#He's has blue and yellow eyes from the beginning
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I decided the perfect way to start off my new blog would be to repost the full-body picture of Vali's design I did recently.
I want to be very clear that Captain Null, or @captain0null, is me. This is just a side blog I've decided to dedicate specifically to Vali's universe (and my other original projects).
I want to thank @jookpubstock as always for the wonderful pose references I used to draw this!
#The Wilds#Vali#my art#digital art#digital drawing#my oc#my oc art#art#I figured why not make a dedicated blog for The Wilds and Mythos and whatnot?#It can be a nice archive of everything I write and draw and think of for these universes.#Anyway I'm starting off this entire thing with my beloved Vali who at this point is the oldest character I'll be posting about here#It's really nice to have a concrete design drawn for him#As I only had written descriptions of him in the past#It's interesting to me how much of his design has changed and which of the details stayed the same#He's has blue and yellow eyes from the beginning#And I've used him with a white cloak in the past too though that changed quite a few times#As I roleplay with him quite a bit in modern settings where he's often depicted with a yellow hoodie#The rest of his design is relatively new since I settled him into a medieval setting#He's had a prosthetic leg for awhile though
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The Worst Logan
Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words
Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. đ€
This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! đ€ đ
Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+
The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. Itâs in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.
You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice.Â
Youâve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.
When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.
Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was.Â
His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot.Â
Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.
Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.
This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired.Â
This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face.Â
âLogan, that's them. Itâs X-23 and Y/N, the oneâs I told you about.â You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her.Â
âHer name is Laura.â Itâs a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasnât the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised.Â
The Wolverineâs gaze darts between the two of you, itâd be comical if you didnât feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if heâs trying to find you in her features.Â
You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.
âThere was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying ⊠and I never even got the chance to fight for it.â Blade explains remorsefully.Â
âThey sent us here because they knew weâd put up a fight.â You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle heâs currently white knuckling.Â
âPeople like us donât go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.â Elektra attests.
âThe answer is yes, Iâm in.â Wade declares.
âIn what?â Blade questions bemused by the man in red.Â
âA team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outtaâ here.â
âDonât listen to him, heâs a fucking liar!â Logan growls, furious at the other man.Â
âIt was an educated wish!â
âHA!â The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry.Â
The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage. Â
When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.
It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charlesâ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charlesâ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits.Â
Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.
You realise youâve entirely tuned out Wadeâs rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your loveâs face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie.Â
âLaura, Y/N? Whatâs it gonnaâ be girlies?âÂ
âLets fucking go.â Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed.Â
âYES! LETâS FUCKING GO!â Wade shouts back fist pumping.Â
âYouâre all fucking dead.â
Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline.Â
They both needed this and it wasnât something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers.Â
So it shouldnât surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.
âYou gonnaâ stand there all night, Bub?â The man sounds utterly exhausted.Â
You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Lauraâs seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet.Â
âYou hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.â You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists.Â
âI didnât hear a thing, Logan.â Your voice is barely above a whisper, you havenât had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but itâs like riding a bike. âI wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.â
âWhat do you fuckinâ know.â He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. âYou can skip the speech and go back up, Iâm not looking for company.âÂ
âIâm not here to tell you what to do, Logan.â Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. âI just wanted to see you.â
âSee me?â He questions incredulously. âWell, keep the change, bub. Good night.â
Despite your smile at his words, you canât help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isnât.
âItâs like seeing a ghost.â Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp.Â
Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. âYou her Mother?âÂ
âYes and no.â His stare doesnât leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. âHer biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After ⊠you ⊠after everything that happened in North DakotaâŠâ You trail off.
Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form.Â
A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.
You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue.Â
âShe was all I had - if not for her, I-.â You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now. âI just couldnât see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-âÂ
You donât know it, but youâre preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldnât help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily.Â
â-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.â You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. âSo no, to answer your question. Iâm not her biological mother, but sheâs my daughter in every way that counts.â
Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other.Â
âYou loved him?â Loganâs voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. Theyâre filled with something you canât quite name.
âI did.â
Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion. âYou should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.â
âCan I stay here ⊠with you for tonight?â The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?
Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. âIâm not him, Darlinâ.â
âNo, I suppose youâre not.â You sigh, âbut could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?â
A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesnât do that.Â
Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. Heâs a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets heâs laid out on the ground.Â
âFuck it.â He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. Youâve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you canât help but hurry before he changes his mind.Â
Before you know it youâre tucked into Loganâs side. His gloved hand doesnât quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him.Â
Loganâs breath is uneven, though heâs doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy.Â
You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he canât name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesnât move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you.Â
It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead.Â
This Wolverineâs arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, itâs so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do.Â
And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.
It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. Youâre not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep youâve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip.Â
Everything is still hazy; youâre floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura.Â
Youâre back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.
There's no my logan, new logan, old logan.Â
Heâs just Logan.Â
You bury yourself deeper in his neck.Â
Itâs only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut.Â
Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs.Â
â...Y/N?â Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesnât release his hold on you. âWhatâs wrong darlinâ?âÂ
That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you.Â
All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isnât the right word but itâs your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before heâs pulling away and holding you back.Â
âY/n⊠Darlinâ you donât want this⊠Iâm not-â
âBut you are Logan. Youâre him just as much as heâs you.â Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. âYouâre Logan.â
âY/N⊠Iâd be taking advantageâŠâ His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy heâs constantly telling everyone heâs not.Â
âI am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.â This time when you capture his lips, he doesnât rear back. Youâre not sure whatâs going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.
Loganâs tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. Youâre breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue.Â
Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. Heâs lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesnât lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you canât help a bubble of nervous laughter. He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips.Â
Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.
Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, heâs back on you, only it's your bare neck heâs lashing with affection now.
Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. Heâs nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his.Â
âLoganâŠâ You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre. Â
Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, youâre fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist.Â
Dog tags; his old dog tags.
âLOGANâ is etched into the aged metal and theyâre warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart.Â
The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you.Â
Heâs not sure why it didnât occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. Heâs not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close.Â
For the other dead Logan, the hero heâs heard so goddamn much about, he decides heâll give you the treatment you deserve.Â
As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldnât give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him.Â
Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; youâre like a gift all wrapped up for him.Â
His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.
âLogan, pleaseâŠâ you whisper desperately as your hands find his âtuftsâ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional.Â
He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, theyâre quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and heâs right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he.Â
Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.
Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth.Â
You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you.Â
âFuck, Lo, Iâm gonna-âÂ
âCome, baby... I gotâya.â He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like youâve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesnât allow you any reprieve before heâs back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.
âOne more.â Heâs negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you.Â
It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch.Â
Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.
It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth.Â
Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast.Â
âLo⊠fuck⊠yes⊠right⊠right fucking there.â You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole.Â
He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin.Â
Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it.Â
 He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.Â
There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and youâve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Loganâs chest is fucking⊠transcendant to behold, it's like heâs been sculpted by god herself, the light isnât the best out of here, but you hope to god you donât die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach.Â
Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldnât give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin.Â
Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard.Â
If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy.Â
Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.
âFuck.â He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. âNo sweetheart, I want your pussy.â You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you.Â
You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees heâs deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.
Finally, heâs in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers.Â
So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go.Â
You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.
He has prepared you well, youâre so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit youâre clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground.Â
âFuck, youâre tight.â He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you canât find it in you to give a single fuck.
The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.
Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.
Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesnât take long for the sensation to hit him.
âFuck, where do you want it?â He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.
You know heâs teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does.Â
âInside - come inside me, baby.â You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, itâs unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldnât have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing.Â
Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably.Â
Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.
You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, heâs supporting his own weight, thank god, you donât think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. Heâs still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.
The silence stretches on for an amount of time you canât quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down.Â
Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh.Â
Loganâs eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection.Â
âI-â Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.
âItâs okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. Iâm okay with it.â You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but youâve got your Wolverine warming you up. âI just wanted one night to be about something other than death.â
He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again.Â
Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.
When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind.Â
Just when youâre just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than heâs ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence.Â
After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.
Itâs later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.
Thereâs a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you canât shake the sensation of being watched.Â
Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.
âMorninâ sleepy head, have a good night?â You can hear the smile in his voice.Â
âAGH!â Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Loganâs chest. He startles awake, with the telltale âsniktâ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you.Â
After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesnât do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend.Â
âGet the fuck outtaâ here, Wade.â Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.
âHmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and Iâm worried that-â
âWADE.â This time Loganâs voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isnât doing anything particularly outrageous. Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands.Â
âThanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.â Youâre disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you. Honestly, youâre still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you donât have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesnât seem to mind as he continues. âThat mean lilâ lady is asking for yaâ. Thought Iâd come and check you and big yellow werenât still bumpinâ uglies. Didnât want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.â
âUh - Thanks⊠Wade?âÂ
âThatâs me.â He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. âOh, and weâre done.â
Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wadeâs âawhâ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously.Â
After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. âSee yaâ around, bub.â
âWhereâs my smooch, Logie-bear?â
âGo fuck yourself, Wade.â He calls as he walks around, Logan doesnât look back as he heads off into the forest.Â
You still had faith heâd turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different.Â
âHate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.â Wade sighs linking his arm with yours.Â
âMmh, You can say that again.â You agree with the clown watching Loganâs ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesnât turn back.Â
The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandraâs lair when Wade finally asks the question you know heâs been dying to ask since meeting you âSo, Y/N just between us girls⊠how big is it?â
LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.
Thanks for reading xxx
Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics đ
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#worst logan#worst logan x reader#worst logan x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine you x#wolverine deadpool#wolverine smut#wolverine x you#wolverine#james howlett x reader#james howlett#james howlett x you#wolverine deadpool fanfiction#wolverine fanfiction
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Collateral Damage [Logan Howlett]
SUMMARY: The X-men are heroesâthey save the world, eradicate threats and protect both mutants and humans alike. You don't see it that way, though.
WARNINGS: one-sided e2l, fem!reader is stubborn and sassy af but it's valid, arguing, canon-level violence, scott's a dick, SMUT - 18+ only! WC: 21k - MASTERLIST
A/N: i've always wanted to write a fic with this plot, it's been on my mind for AGES. happy reading!
----
The first time you see them, itâs on your birthday.
Not being one for big, elaborate parties, you planned a quiet celebration insteadâmaybe a stroll through the lively city streets, followed by dinner with friends later. You had just visited your favourite store, buying a gift for yourself, and now youâre on your way back home.
The streets buzz with life as people shop, eat, and laugh, making it the perfect backdrop for a peaceful walk and some casual people-watching.
Then, out of nowhere, the ground trembles.
At first, you think itâs an earthquakeâa quick jolt beneath your feet that sends a ripple of confusion through your body. But the tremor grows stronger, the ground shaking violently as everyone around you begins to panic, frantically looking around for the source, you included. And thatâs when you see it.Â
A hulking, green monster stomping through the city streets like something out of a nightmare. It has to be at least twenty feet tall, its skin a sickly shade of green, its eyes glowing with rage. Cars bounce with each heavy footstep, leaving deep footprints in the cement in its wake.
People scream, scrambling to get out of its path, but you stand frozen, heart pounding as you try to make sense of whatâs happening. In the blink of an eye, the city had been plunged into chaos. You lose track of your surroundings, too busy trying to keep your eyes on the monster headed your way, while also dodging the hoard of pedestrians running for their lives.
Until they show up.
Initially, you donât even notice them. After all, thereâs so much going on around you at this point you barely know what to do with yourself. Yet, through the dust and destruction, you see flashes of movementâfigures darting toward the monster with a sense of purpose.Â
You donât know who they are, but their bright blue and yellow suits make it seem like you should. At first glance, itâs hard not to feel a sense of awe. They move with such confidence, with their powers on full display for the world to see. Youâve never seen anything like itâa team of mutants using their powers in the open, fighting for what you assume is the greater good.
Maybe they can stop this!
The one first to act is a woman with white hair. She raises her arms to the sky, her eyes glowing a bright white as dark clouds swirl above, blocking out the sun. A flash of lightning slams into the monster's chest, forcing it to reel back with a thunderous roar of agony, and the crowd around you gasps, watching in wonder.
But when the lightning strikes a second time, it veers off course, crashing into the side of a nearby building. The structure groans under the impact, flames erupting from the point of contact as windows shatter, sending glass raining down onto the street below.
The collision sends you to the ground, and when you look up again, you see the power inside go out, all the lights flickering off.
Whatever awe youâd been feeling dissolves into concern, a sinking feeling settling in your chest.
Following her, a man with a glowing red visor strides forward. Heâs clearly aiming to hit the monster, but the bright red beam shooting from his eyes slices through several cars in the street first, flipping them over and leaving them in smoldering wrecks. One of the blasts tears through a storefront, reducing it to rubble in a matter of seconds. More people scream and scatter, trying to escape the destruction.
From the corner of your eye, you see another mutantâa man with clawsâlunge toward the monster, jumping onto cars to get closer to its head. But by using the parked cars as springboards, the weight of him causes the roof to sink in, and his claws leave deep gashes in the metal.Â
How heavy is this guy? Is he made of metal or something?
Heâs fast, brutal, slashing at the green beast with some serious ferocity. Still, despite the attack, the monsterâs strength prevails, and it easily tosses him aside, crashing into buildings, crowdsâanything in the way. To your surprise, he always gets back up. And that should be good, right? They are fighting for the safety of the city.Â
But as debris rains down and cars are overturned, you canât help but feel like this isnât helping. Youâre constantly dodging rubble, trying to find shelter, only for it to be destroyed seconds later. Itâs like being in a war zone, and it doesnât seem to be getting better.
And above it all, thereâs a woman with red hair. Sheâs floating, and you watch from where youâre hiding as she lifts entire trees from their roots, hurling them at the monster in an attempt to slow it down. Except, much like her teammates, her attempt goes awry, and she misses, the trees now flying toward you.Â
You barely have the reflexes to dive out of the way.
Your heart races, breath coming in shallow bursts as you press yourself against a wall, trying to steady yourself. The sound of sirens blare in the distance, but it doesnât seem like help is coming anytime soon. Thereâs too much going on. People are running, pushing each other aside, crying, screaming, trying to find safety.
Glancing around, youâre met with destructionâflames licking at the sidewalk, cars totaled, and building wreckage littering the streets. These mutants, while clearly powerful, are causing just as much destruction as the monster itself.
What should have been a simple takedownâa 6v1âhas turned into a full-scale disaster.
And yet, they donât stop. They donât pause to help the people caught in the crossfire, donât even seem to notice the damage theyâre causing. Theyâre so focused on the monster, so focused on the fight, that theyâve lost sight of everything else.
Is this what heroism looks like? Youâd been excited at firstâamazed, evenâthinking they were here to save the day. But now, standing in the middle of a city thatâs being torn apart, you realize how wrong you were.
They donât care. Not about the city. Not about the people.Â
Finally, with one last blast from the man with the visor, the monster collapses to the ground, defeated. It lets out a final roar before falling still, its massive body sprawled across the street.
The team stands over its body, their chests heaving with exertion, but they have smiles on their faces, feeling victorious. One by one, they board an aircraft, dragging the monster in with them, barely sparing a glance at the horrors theyâve caused. The white-haired woman doesnât even bother to clear the storm clouds she summoned.
Within moments, theyâre gone. You, and everyone else in the area, are left to deal with the fallout. Left to clean up their mess.Â
Happy birthday to me, I guess.
â
After that, you spend the next few days trying to process what had happened. Youâre still in a state of shock, confusion, and disbelief, but then the media catches wind of what went down, and suddenly, itâs everywhere.
News channels replay the footage over and over, the headlines screaming about âour holy savioursâ saving the day. Theyâre plastered across every screen, being hailed as protectors.
The X-Men.
A group of mutant superheroes, apparently. The reporters list them off one by one, like theyâre celebrities you should have known about.Â
Storm. Cyclops. Wolverine. Jean Grey.
Mutants with powers like gods.
â
The second time you see them, youâre on vacation.
Sitting in a quaint cafĂ© in the south of France, youâre enjoying a well-deserved break. The city youâre in is perfectâcobblestone streets winding through the village, vine-covered walls framing pastel-colored houses, and the scent of fresh bread drifting from nearby bakeries. It all feels like something out of a dream, the kind of peaceful retreat youâve been desperate for after everything back home.
You order a frappĂ©, and as you wait, you idly flip through a local newspaper, trying to see how much of your rusty high school French you can remember. Itâs peaceful, quiet, exactly what you neededâuntil itâs not.
Movement out of the corner of your eye grabs your attention, and you glance over the edge of the newspaper, watching a group of tourists as they walk into the cafĂ©. Itâs not really anything odd, so you donât think much of itâtheyâre dressed casually, like any group of vacationers.
Though, something about them tugs at the back of your mind, a nagging feeling that youâve seen them before.
You lower the newspaper entirely now, staring as you try to place where you recognize them from. The tall one with the red sunglasses, the woman with the striking white hair, the man in the leather jacket... You squint, the pieces slowly falling into place.
And then it hits you.
Oh, no way.
Youâre halfway around the world, in a different country, on a different continent, and somehow, theyâre here. At the same cafĂ©.Â
Shifting in your seat, youâre trying to figure out what the hell is going on, when the barista arrives with your drink. He smiles warmly at you, placing the cup down on the table with a soft âvoila madame,â but before you can even thank him, thereâs a blur of motion.
One of themâWolverine, you thinkâlunges at the barista, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him back. The tray tips, and your frappĂ© spills everywhereâall over the table, your newspaper, and, to your absolute horror, all over you.Â
âLogan, no!â you hear Storm shout, but itâs too late.
The cold drink soaks into your clothes, and you let out a startled yelp, jumping up as your chair topples over. Your clothes are ruined, your vacation ruined, and in the midst of all of this?
Wolverineâor Logan, you guess, is wrestling with the poor barista.
âWhat the hell?!â you shout, trying to shake off the liquid dripping down your legs. âIs this a joke?!â
No one hears you, or even acknowledges you.
The other mutants jump into action, and before you know it, the peaceful cafĂ© is transformed into yet another battleground. Cyclops blasts a beam at the baristaâwho you now realize must be the target of whatever mission theyâre onâbut it misses, smashing into the wall behind you.Â
Youâre furious, covered in a brown drink that makes it seem like you just had explosive diarrhea, and caught in yet another X-Men fiasco. All you wanted was a vacation. You donât even know whatâs happening anymoreâwho the barista is, what mission theyâre onâbut frankly, you donât care.
This is absurd!
Without a second thought, you grab your bag and make a break for it, dodging overturned tables and debris as you make your way to the exit. You donât bother looking back, your only thought being to get changed, and get as far away as possible.
After rounding the corner, putting some distance between yourself and the café, you pause for a moment to catch your breath. And then you hear it.
Boom.
The sound reverberates through the narrow streets, shaking the cobblestones beneath your feet. You whirl around, sticking your head out from the corner of the building, just in time to see a plume of smoke rising into the air from where the cafĂ© once stood.Â
Your heart sinks.
They blew it up.
â
The third time you see them, itâs a really nice day outside.
Itâs a week after youâve returned home, and the weather had finally given you a break from the suffocating heat. Youâre walking home from a lunch with an old friend, when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Probably said friend sending you something stupid to laugh at later.Â
You chuckle, already anticipating the joke, whenâ
BAM!
Something slams into you from the side with the force of a freight train. Youâre airborne for a second, weightless, before crashing hard onto the pavement, your breath knocked right out from your lungs.Â
Dazed, you groan and blink up at the sky, trying to get your bearings. What the hell just hit me? Your vision swims as you sit up, shoulder throbbing from the impact. Twisting your neck to see whatever the hell that was, you immediately regret it, wincing at the sharp pain.Â
Great, just great.
When you finally manage to sit up, you spot the culprit.
Cyclops.
Are you fucking serious?!
His back is to you, dusting off his ugly uniform like nothing happened. You look around, and notice that the street in front you is in ruinsâbuildings have gaping holes where windows used to be, chunks of the road are crumbling, people covered in blood scurrying away as fast as they can.Â
Just when you thought it couldnât get any worse, you catch a glimpse of the giant mechanical robots looming above, scanning for their targets. One of them mustâve thrown Cyclops into you.Â
You can see the othersâJean, Storm, Beast (some new guy)âflying around, saving the world. Thatâs codeword for: wreaking havoc, destroying your city.
Anger boils up inside you, hot and unrelenting as you struggle to your feet, rubbing your sore shoulder. But as you open your mouth, a gruff voice cuts through the air.
"Good job, dickhead. You just hurt a civilian."
Your gaze snaps toward the sound. Wolverineâs standing a few feet away, claws out, glaring at the guy who sent you flying.Â
âI was thrown, Logan,â he says passively. âMaybe if you kept the Sentinels off meââ
âMaybe if you didnât stand there like a damn target, you wouldnât get thrown!â The clawed mutant growls, taking a step closer. His whole posture is tense, like heâs barely holding himself back from tackling the other man into the ground (you would pay to have him do it). âSeriously, Summers, itâs like you want to get tossed around.â
Cyclops doesnât even flinch. âWeâve got bigger problems than this right now,â he dismisses, not even glancing back at you to check if youâre okay.Â
Well, there goes the last of your patience.
"Are you kidding me?!" you shout, throwing your hands up in disbelief. They completely ignore you, too absorbed in their petty bickering to acknowledge that youâre still standing there, seething.
Before you can rip into them, something catches your eyeâa Sentinel (is that what theyâre called?), hovering above them, charging up a blast. Its arm is raised, energy crackling at the barrel of its cannon, aimed directly at the two distracted morons.
âOh, for the love ofââ you mutter under your breath before diving forward.
The blast hits you square in the chest, but instead of pain, all you feel is the heat of the energy surging through your body, like lightning spreading through every inch of your veins. It crackles and burns, the force building up inside you until it feels like youâre about to explode.
Then, with a deep breath, you thrust your hands forward, channeling and releasing the blast right back at the robot, blowing it apart. Metal and circuits rain down, the Sentinel crashing into the ground with a deafening thud.
Silence falls.
Youâre panting, feeling the leftover energy fizzle out of your fingertips. Slowly, you turn back around, and unsurprisingly, Cyclopsâor Scott, as youâve heard in the newsâand Logan are staring at you like you just walked on water. Well, the clawed one is. You canât really see the other brown-haired manâs expression due to his visor. Â
âWoah, bubââ
âOh, hell no!â You spin around fully, pointing an accusatory finger at both of them. âNeither of you get to speak! I just saved your asses because you were too busy bickering like children to notice the massive death robot about to blow you to pieces!â
Loganâs mouth quirks up, but he wisely stays silent.
âAnd this is exactly why I hate you people!â You continue, exasperated. âYou swoop in, make a mess, destroy everything in your path, and then just leave like nothing happened! You think this is helping anyone? You think the people running for their lives right now give a damn about your little team squabbles?â
Scott doesnât even blink. âWeâre just trying to help,â he says evenly, like heâs rehearsed the line a thousand times.
âHelp?â you scoff incredulously. âYou only tell yourself youâre doing that to make yourself feel better. How many casualties do you think are coming out of this, hm? Whatâs the body count gonna be after today? Or do you not even bother counting anymore?â
His audacity makes you want to laugh. He opens his mouth to respond, but youâre not done.
"All this mess, the destroyed buildings, the people who wonât make it home tonight because you couldnât keep your damn fight contained! Youâre so focused on stopping the big bad guys that you donât even realize how much carnage you leave behind. Whoâs cleaning up after you? Whoâs paying for this?! " You gesture around wildly. "News flash: the people whose lives youâre currently ruining!â
Beside him, Loganâs smirk fades, and he begins to step forward with his hands raised. âListen, darlinâ, weâre doinâ the best we can. We didnât ask for this fightââ
"Oh, donât give me that âbest we canâ bullshit," you snap.
âWeâre here to protect people,â Scott adds in, trying to maintain authority. âItâs not always clean, but we are making a differenceâ"
âShut the fuck up! Iâm not finished!â You interrupt, shaking your head. âEvery day. Every damn day thereâs something new.â
With the face Loganâs making, youâd think heâs going to start going in on you, but he doesnât. Instead, he just watches, his eyes narrowing slightly as if heâs trying to figure you out. Itâs unnerving, but you donât care. Youâve had enough.
"And you," you say, turning your ire toward him, "You couldnât have, I donât know, used your super speed or whatever the hell you do to catch him before he crashed into me?"
His eyebrow quirks up. âSuper speed?â he chuckles lowly. âAinât that fast. Was a little busy with the giant killer robots.â
You tilt your head back in frustration and turn on your heel. "Iâm done. I donât care what kind of mission youâre on, or how noble you think it is. If you're planning to lay waste to the city yet again, be my guest.â
Giving no time for a response, you stalk off, weaving through the wreckage of the city streets, your heart still pounding in your chest.Â
â
A couple weeks have passed since the last incident, and the X-Men seem to have disappeared from the headlines. You havenât seen them or heard their whereabouts splashed across the news like youâve gotten used toâthough not by choice, of course. Whenever they do anything, the world seems to bow at their feet.
You donât get it.
The flashy suits, the team name, the way they strut around as if theyâre the Gods of the mutant race. Itâs too much, too loud. They act like theyâre above it all, as if their powers and heroics put them on a pedestal. Better than those who prefer to lay low, who have no choice but to blend in.
Youâve spent years hiding your powers, keeping them buried deep where no one can see. When you were younger, you didnât have a choice. Your mutation made you a targetâbullied, beaten up, pushed around for being different.
You learned quickly that being a mutant didnât make you special. It made you vulnerable.
So, you hid. You stayed quiet, under the radar. It was safer that way.
And then here are the X-Men, parading around like their abilities make them untouchable, like theyâve forgotten what itâs like for the rest of you. Itâs not that you donât believe in helping othersâyou just donât believe in the way they do it.
In your opinion, itâs all performance. From what youâve experienced and seen up close, they always arrive with a fanfare, ready to jump into action, and do whatever they can to exterminate the threat. Yet, when the dust settles, itâs mutants like you who are left to pick up the pieces.
The ones who donât wear brightly coloured costumes or shout about unity. Youâre the ones who have to keep moving, keep surviving, without any recognition.
But it's not like you need recognition. You never have. What you need is peace.
â
Youâre on the phone with your mom, trying to reassure her for the millionth time this week.
"Yeah, yeah. Donât worry, Mom, Iâm fine," you say, pacing the length of your small living room. You glance at the muted TV screen, the news still cycling through the usual mayhem. "Youâve seen the news recently, right? Weâve got the X-Men to take care of all this stuffâ"
Knock. Knock.
You freeze mid-sentence, your words trailing off as the sound of someone at your door interrupts the call. Your heart skips a beat, and your voice drops. "Mom, Iâll call you back."
Barely waiting for her to reply, you end the call, staring at the door like it might explode.
A knock at this hour? Unannounced? You waver, your mind racing with possibilities.
Delivery? A neighbour? Youâre not expecting anyone.
Cautiously, you make your way toward the door, hand hovering over the handle as you listen. No more knocks, just the faint hum of the outside world. You take a breath, steeling yourself as you turn the handle and crack the door open.
The tufts of hair, the thick stubble, the edge in his eyesâitâs him. Wolverine. And just as your brain registers his face, you also notice the glint of metal where his claws are already halfway out.
Instincts kick in, and before he can get a word in, you push against the door, trying to slam it shut.
Still, heâs faster.
His fist punches through the wood, and with a metallic snikt, his claws extend fully, slicing through the door as if it were made of paper. He pushes it open again, forcing it against your effort, and the sheer strength sends you stumbling back.
âWhat the fuck?â you gasp, eyes wide as you steady yourself. âHow did you even find me?â
Stepping inside, he says, âpicked up your scent and followed it,â matter-of-factly, like itâs the most normal thing in the world.
For a moment, you just stare at him, dumbfounded. âThatâs⊠thatâs actually really creepy,â you manage, still trying to process the fact that he just said that without a hint of shame.
âCanât control it, bub,â he shrugs.Â
You take a step back, putting more distance between you and the man with the claws standing in your apartment. âOkay, well, you found me. Now what?â
His eyes lock onto yours. âI need you to come with me.â
âExcuse me?â You cross your arms, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.Â
âYouâre not safe here.â
âOh, Iâm not safe?â you snap, sarcasm dripping from your voice. âMaybe if you and your merry band of idiots didnât keep causing world-ending disasters, I wouldnât need to be safe!â
He doesnât even flinch. âSentinels are tracking you down.â
You falter. âWhat are you talking about?â
âYou used your powers,â he states. âKilled a Sentinel. Thatâs all it takes for them to target you.â
Blinking, you feel anger rush to the surface, your skin tingling with rage. âI didnât kill anyone. Theyâre fucking robots.â
âThey donât see it that way,â he counters. âYou took one down, and now they know what you are.â
Part of you knows thereâs merit in what heâs saying, but you donât want to hear it. The last thing you want is to be dragged into some mutant-robot war. âThis is ridiculous. I didnât ask for any of this!â you hiss, glaring at him. âAnd now youâre telling me Iâm on some kill list because I defended myself? Because I defended you?!â
His eyes flicker with something you canât quite read, but he stays silent, watching you carefully. Your words start flying faster now, venom spilling into each one.
âIâm the one who took that thing down because you and that one-eyed bitch boy were too busy being immature! You werenât even paying attention, and that thing almost blasted you both.â Your fingers ball into fists. "I saved both of you, and now Iâm the one who has to run?"
Logan's jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring at the accusation. âWe werenâtââ
âDonât even try to deny it,â you cut him off. âIf it werenât for me, the two of you would be dead right now. And now Iâm supposed to just go with you to your mansion and hide out? Like thatâs going to fix thââ
You donât get to end your rant, because he has stepped forward, and grabbed your shoulders, gripping you firmly. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back to him.
âThis is serious,â he spits, eyes boring into yours. âYou stay here, you die.â
His words slam into you. Heâs not trying to scare youâheâs telling the truth.
âYou donât get to be stubborn about this,â he continues firmly. âYou think youâre pissed off now? Wait until they come crashin' through your door in the middle of the night, and you donât have a chance to fight back.â
Wrenching yourself out of his grasp, you take a few steps back. âI justââ you begin to say, but the words feel tangled in your throat. The denial is still there, but itâs weakening, cracking. âI donât want to run.â
âYouâre not running,â he sighs, his voice softening ever so slightly. âYouâre buying time. Time to fight back, time to survive. But if you stay here? Thereâs none of that.â
You want to argue more, want to scream at him to get away, to not drag you into his fight, but instead, you let out a long, shaky breath, your shoulders slumping. âFine,â you breath out.Â
He nods, finally releasing his grip on you and stepping back. âGood. Pack up your shit. We leave in half an hour.â
Then, he walks over to your couch and plops down like he owns the place, crossing his arms as if settling in for a casual wait.
You roll your eyes, muttering under your breath. âUnbelievable.â
Ignoring him, you turn and head into your bedroom, where you start throwing clothes into a duffel bagâjeans, a couple of shirts, whatever you can grab quickly. Your movements are hurried, fuelled by a mix of frustration and the creeping anxiety gnawing at the edges of your mind. Grabbing your toiletries, you stuff them into a smaller bag, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the fact that some random mutant tracked you down, and now you have to leave your life until youâre safe.Â
You peer back into the hallway, hearing the faint creak of the couch as Logan shifts around. Iâm gonna kill this guy, you think to yourself.Â
Once everything is packed and youâve zipped your bag, you head back into the main room, only to see said random mutant still sprawled on your couch, looking far too comfortable, with a cigar in his hand.
âSeriously?â you say, slinging your duffel over your shoulder. âMake yourself at home, why donât you.â
He grunts in response but doesnât move. Typical.
You glance at the clockâstill a few minutes left of the half-hour he allotted you, but thereâs no point in dragging it out. âIâm ready,â you say flatly, heading toward the door.
Logan stands, stretches his arms over his head, and cracks his neck like heâs waking up from a nap. âLetâs go then.â
â
The ride is tense and quiet, which suits you just fine. Youâd rather not talk to him anyway. Every now and then, you let out a loud sigh, unable to hold back the annoyance youâre feeling. Each time, you feel Loganâs eyes dart toward you from the driverâs seat, but he doesnât say anything. Well, that is, untilâ
âCan you shut the fuck up?â he growls, keeping his eyes on the road.
You clench your jaw, shifting in your seat. âI didnât even say anything, jackass.â
He huffs, clearly not in the mood for an argument, but the strain between you is almost impossible to ignore. You cross your arms, staring out the window, observing the landscape shift as the drive continues.Â
Eventually, you can see the outline of the mansion, and you watch as it gets bigger and bigger the closer you get. Upon arrival, He pulls the car up to the front and cuts the engine. You both sit there for a moment, mute.Â
âWell, here we are,â he mumbles after the pause stretches on for an uncomfortable amount of time, glancing over at you.
âGreat,â you say sarcastically, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door.Â
Logan walks ahead without saying a word, leading the way up the grand stone steps toward the front door. You trail behind, your mood darkening with every step, glaring at the perfectly polished entrance.Â
The doors open before you even reach them, and youâre greeted by an older man in a wheelchairâCharles Xavier, if you remember correctly. The famous telepath. The genius behind the mutant team (some news anchor's words, not yours). His expression is kind, but youâre in such a bad mood, you donât even bother trying to seem polite.
âWelcome,â He says with a warm smile, his eyes assessing you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. âLoganâs told me a lot about you.â
You press your lips together in a line. âYeah? Well, donât get too excited.â
Logan grunts beside you. âSheâs got a bit of an attitude,â he mutters to Charles, then turns to you, gesturing you to follow him. âCome on.â
Inwardly groaning, you have no choice but to follow him. Everything about this place screams âtoo good to be true,â and you hate it already. Youâre used to keeping your head down, blending in, not being surrounded by people who wear their powers on their sleeves like some badge of honour.
As you walk through the halls, a few faces appearâother mutants, some of them kids, watching curiously as you pass by. You can feel their eyes on you, can hear the whispers already starting about the new arrival.Â
Charles wheels alongside you, still smiling, but thereâs a glint of amusement in his eyes. âYou remind me of Logan when he first joined us,â he says thoughtfully.
That stops you in your tracks.
You whip your head toward the man, giving him a piercing look. âDo not say that. We are nothing alike.â
On your other side, Logan smirks. âNot sure if I should be offended or not.â
âIâm serious.â If looks could kill, heâd be six feet under.
Chucking softly, Charles seems completely unaffected by your outburst. âYouâre both a bit rough around the edges, but youâll find your place here.â
âYeah, sure,â you say. âBecause thatâs exactly what I want to do.â
Deeper into the mansion, you catch sight of the X-Men youâve seen before: Cyclops, Storm, Jean Grey. They all turn to look at you, sizing you up. You donât flinchâyou just stare back, your expression hard.
Pulling your duffel bag higher on your shoulder, you rip your eyes away from theirs, and keep walking, following Logan down the long, quiet hallway. Finally, he stops in front of a door.
âThis is your room,â he grunts, nodding toward it. âTry not to break anything.â
Choosing silence, you push the door open. Stepping inside, you expect the bare minimumâa bed, maybe a closetâbut instead, youâre met with a surprisingly large space. Thereâs a massive bed in the center of the room, a desk by the window, and, to your surprise, a set of glass doors leading out to a balcony.
You drop your bag by the door, glancing around, trying to shake off the unease. This is way too nice for a prisoner. You walk toward the balcony doors, curious despite yourself, and when you pull them open, the cool breeze hits you immediately.
Once youâre outside, you realize something that immediately makes your stomach drop.
The balcony is shared. And right next to your side, leaning against the railing with a cigar between his fingers, is Logan.
You halt mid-motion, eyes fixed on him in stunned silence. âYouâve got to be kidding me.â
He glances over, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes a drag of his cigar. âSurprise.â
You groan, turning your back on him and walking toward the opposite edge of the balcony, trying to calm the annoyance inside you. Of all the people you couldâve been stuck beside, it had to be him. Itâs not enough that he dragged you here, but now thereâs a chance youâre going to have to see him every time you step outside.
âSo what now?â you mutter, staring out over the mansion grounds, the manicured gardens below looking like something out of a postcard. âIâm just supposed to stay here, be a part of your little mutant club?â
Taking another slow pull on his cigar, âYouâre supposed to stay alive. Everythinâ else? Thatâs up to you.â
âBut why do you suddenly care?â you ask. âIâve seen the way you operate. You and your team sweep in, fight your battles, and then leave everyone else in the dirt. You donât care about the collateral damageâhell, you cause half of it.âÂ
Logan pauses, his cigar halfway to his lips. He doesnât answer right away, and the brief hesitation only makes your irritation spike. You press on, inching closer, voice laced with accusation.
âWhy now?â you press. âWhy drag me into this when youâve never cared about anyone else in the crossfire?â
Logan finally turns to face you, exhaling a cloud of smoke before speaking, his expression hardened. âThis ainât about me âcaring,ââ he says flatly. âThis is about survival. You killed a Sentinel, whether you like it or not. That puts a target on your back.â
âYeah, youâve made that very clear,â you bite out. âBut you still havenât answered my question. Why me? Why am I suddenly important to you?â
Loganâs eyes darken, drilling into yours. âYouâre not important to me,â he says flatly. âBut they wonât stop until they get you. The destruction thatâll come from thatâif your stubborn ass fought back, which I know it would, by the wayâwould be much greater than anything we would cause.â
âDoubt that,â you snarl bitterly. You donât linger for the sound of his response, spinning on your heel and walking back into your room, slamming the balcony door behind you.
The bed is large and you canât deny how inviting it looks after the day youâve had. You flop onto it face-first, letting out a long, drawn out sigh.
Youâre barely able to reflect on the chaotic day youâve had before your eyelids flutter shut, and you sink into a deep slumber, the exhaustion from everything catching up to you.
â
Youâre jolted awake by a loud, aggressive knock on your bedroom door. The sound is so forceful it feels like the entire frame is rattling. You release a sound, half groan, half sigh, steeped in frustration. Your face is still buried in your pillow, and you curse whoever decided to ruin what little sleep you managed to get.
âGet up,â Loganâs gruff voice calls from the other side of the door. âWeâre leaving for breakfast in ten.â
Ah yes. Of-fucking-course it's him. Who else would it be?
Dragging yourself out of bed, you throw on some clothes and make a half-hearted attempt to fix your hair before opening the door, ready to curse him, but he's already striding down the hallway, hardly bothering to check if you're following. You roll your eyes, your steps slow and begrudging as you move to follow
As you catch up, you canât help but throw him a sideways glare. âWhy are you acting like my personal bodyguard?â
âGotta make sure you donât do anything reckless.â
You scoff, crossing your arms as you fall into step beside him. âYou donât even know what I can do.â
Loganâs lips twitch into a lazy smirk, and you immediately want to wipe it off his face. âExactly,â he says, his tone almost amused. âWhich is why today, weâre gonna test you.â
You stop in your tracks, staring at his back. âTest me? What the hell does that mean?â
He stops too, turning to face you. âMeans youâre gonna show me what youâre capable of.â
Teeth clenched, you feel the slow rise of aggravation mingling with apprehension. âIâm not some science experiment.â
âNo,â he agrees, âbut youâre not a regular person, either. You need to know your limitsâand how to handle whatâs coming.â
Groaning, you drag your hands down your face incredulously. âI donât even know what to say back to that. All I know is that Iâm hungry.â
â
The kitchen of Xavierâs mansion is bustling with activity as the two of you walk in. The rest of the team is gathered around a large table at the centre of the room, and you spot Jean, Cyclops, Storm, and a few others sitting together, chatting, but you feel no desire to join them.Â
Rather, you gravitate toward a smaller table by the window, hoping to get some peace while you choke down breakfast. The chair scrapes lightly as you pull it out and sit down, fully expecting to be left alone.
But to your surprise, Logan follows and plops down in the seat across from you.
You raise an eyebrow. âWhat are you doing?â
He shrugs and digs into his food. "Eating. You got a problem with that?"
You cast a quick look toward the large table where the rest of the team sits. It feels strange, having him eat with you, especially when the rest of his team is so obviously waiting for him to join them.
"No," you murmur, shaking your head as you return to your plate. "Just didnât think youâd stray from the flock."
âTheyâre fine without me.â
You push your food around with your fork, trying to push past the heavy air of discomfort in the room. Everyone keeps glancing in your direction, and you sense their curiosity, the questions hovering in silence, but no one has the courage to ask. And honestly, youâre grateful for the space.
Just as youâre finishing up, a low voice catches your attention.Â
"I just donât understand why they brought her here," Jeanâs voice carries across the room, quieter than before, but still clear enough for you to hear. âShe doesnât seem like she has what it takes. Itâs like theyâre bringing in someone whoâsââ She pauses, clearly thinking through her words. "Unstable. Weak.â
Tensing, your fork clatters onto your plate. The world around you dulls, and all you can hear is that word echoing in your head. Weak. Youâve been called a lot of things in your life, but never that.
Slowly, you push your chair back and stand up as you turn to face the table where she and the others are seated. âSay it louder, please,â you say calmly.
The chatter dies instantly, and suddenly, every set of eyes in the room finds you. Jean's face turns ashen, her eyes blown wide in shock. She wasnât expecting you to overhear. Her mouth opens and closes, as if sheâs trying to find a way to backtrack, but you know what you heard.
Before Jean can stammer out an excuse, Scott stands up, positioning himself between you and her, his jaw tight and his posture rigid. âYou heard wrong,â he says sternly. âShe didnât mean anything by it.â
You take a calculated step forward, arms crossed in defiance. âDidnât mean anything?â you repeat sarcastically. âShe just called me weak. Right here. In front of everyone. You think Iâm gonna let that slide?â
Scottâs jaw clenches tighter âShe wasnât trying to insult you. Youâre new here. You donât know how things work yet.â
âThatâs the excuse?â you laugh dryly. âMaybe you should teach her how to keep her mouth shut instead of making assumptions about people she doesnât know.â
If even possible, the friction between you swells, growing heavier with each passing second. Everyone in the room watches the standoff, some shifting uncomfortably in their seats, unsure of whatâs going to happen next. You can feel Loganâs presence behind you, but he doesnât interfere. Heâs letting you handle this.
âYou donât belong here,â Scott states, like heâs trying to remind you of your place. âYouâre not part of this team, and you sure as hell donât understand what it takes to survive here.â
Raising an eyebrow, your lips curl into a smirk. âAnd what are you gonna do about it, One-eye? You gonna lecture me? Or better yet, why donât you blast me with those laser eyes of yours? Show me how strong you are.â
His fists clench, and for a moment, you see the control slip. His visor glows red, just for a split second, as his anger spikes.
"Careful," you taunt, challenging him. "Wouldnât want to lose control, would you? I'm sure you've never done that before."
That does it.Â
A beam shoots out from Scottâs visor. Fast, ferocious, and headed straight for you. Thereâs a collective gasp from the others, chairs scraping as people push back, shocked by the sudden escalation. But you donât move. You stand your ground, your eyes locked onto Scottâs as the beam strikes you square in the chest.
Youâre not knocked back, or worse, killed, as the energy from the blast surges into you. The energy seeps into your bones, crackling through every nerve. Your skin tingles as the power courses through you, your body absorbing every ounce of it. Once the assault is over, you raise your head, feeling your eyes and veins begin to glow with a deep, burning red.
Jeanâs hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief.Â
Unfortunately for you, you don't get the chance to blow him to pieces, because Logan flies forward and grabs your arm, pulling you out of the room. Nobody else movesâtoo stunnedâas he drags you into the hallway. You blink your eyes, the glow fading, but you can feel the residual energy from Scottâs blast still buzzing under your skin.
Both out of sight, he finally releases you.Â
You glare at him, still rattled from the confrontation. âWhat the hell? Why'd you interfere?â
He just shrugs, completely unfazed. âYou handled yourself enough. Now we know what you can do. Follow me.â
âFollow you where?â you ask.Â
He motions down the hallway. âDanger Room. Weâre gonna push those limits a little further.â
Gawking at him for a second, it takes a moment, but then you smirk. You want to know just how far your powers can go.
â
âFuck!â you curse as youâre flung backward, your body slamming against a stone wall. Your back hits hard, knocking the wind out of you as the simulated-Sentinel hurls a car in your direction. The screech of metal fills the air as the vehicle crashes just mere inches from where you were standing moments ago.Â
Rubble showers from above, the robot in front of you towering menacingly. Raising its arm, another blast begins charging in its palm, ready to incinerate you.
You scramble to your feet, heart pounding in your chest as you sprint away, ducking and weaving between the wreckage of cars and crumbling buildings that make up the simulated cityscape. The Sentinel fires again, the blast narrowly missing as you dodge behind an overturned truck. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, every muscle screaming in protest.
I canât keep this up.
Another blast lights up the area around you, and you dive out of the way, the heat of the attack singeing your skin. Youâre quick, but not quick enough to outrun the onslaught from this machine.
Then it hits youâyou donât have to outrun it.
You remember the blast from way back, how your body absorbed the energy, and how in the dining hall, you took on Scottâs beam like it was nothing. You can do it again. You can take its power and turn it back on itself.
Gritting your teeth, you stop running. The air buzzes with electricity, the earth trembling beneath you as the next shot hurtles your way.
It hammers into your chest, and once again, your body is filled with energy. In an instant, you leap into the air, propelled by the newfound strength coursing through your body, and the ground disappears beneath you as you soar upward.
At the peak of your jump, you clench your fist, channeling all that power into one focused point. Then, you bring your fist down on the Sentinelâs head, the impact echoing through the simulation as your punch connects, and the robotâs head shatters under the blow, metal fragments flying in every direction as its massive body crumples to the ground.
Sparks shoot out of its severed neck, and with a final groan of machinery, the robot collapses into a heap of broken parts at your feet.
âGood work,â Loganâs voice crackles over the comms, far too calm for what youâve just been through. âLetâs see how you handle another.â
Thereâs no time for more than a muttered curse under your breath, because another Sentinel is dropped into the simulation. This oneâs faster, more agile, and doesnât waste time by charging up blasts.
It exists solely to hunt you down.Â
âCut me some slack,â you groan, half out of breath as you duck behind the ruins of a building. Your lungs burn as you try to breathe, adrenaline coursing through you like a wildfire.
This one isnât like the last. Itâs not using energy blastsâitâs fast, agile, and persistent. It rushes toward you, its massive hands swiping through the air, tearing through the simulated city with ease.
Grinding your teeth, a wave of exasperation takes over. This fight is harder, the machine barely giving you a chance to react, and your body is already starting to wear down. Your mind races, desperate for a solution as you sidestep its attacks, trying to stay one step ahead. You feel cornered, trapped.
The frustration builds, growing into something more, and before you realize it, that frustration becomes fuel. It ignites inside you, your own emotions transforming into energy, pushing past the limits you didnât know you had.
Your veins pulse, your eyes glowing white this time, not from absorbed power but from something deeperâyour own anger, your own strength. The energy bubbles inside you, filling every cell of your body until you canât hold it back anymore.
With a scream, you release it, propelling a massive ball of crackling energy hurling toward the Sentinel. The impact is immediate, ripping through the metal and bursting into a brilliant, blinding light. It sends shockwave through the entire simulation, the machine imploding, its parts scattering across the battlefield.
And when the light fades, the Sentinel is goneânothing more than a smouldering heap of twisted metal.
You stand there, chest heaving, the glow in your eyes slowly fading as the last traces of energy drain from your body. Your knees buckle, and before you know it, you crumble to the ground, utterly exhausted.
The simulation flickers for a moment, then abruptly shuts off, the room returning to its normal, metallic walls as the fake cityscape disappears. Youâre still on the floor, gasping for breath, when Logan steps into view, arms crossed as he peers down at you with a pleased grin.
âWell,â he says, voice calm, âthat wasnât too bad.â
You shoot him a glare from the ground, too tired to move. âYou⊠are such⊠an asshole.â
He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. âGet up. Weâre just getting started.â
â
He was right. You were just getting started.
The thought gnaws at you as you trudge alongside Logan, heading back to your room to clean up before dinner. Every muscle in your body aches, and you can already feel the soreness creeping in, promising a week of pain. Youâre starting to suspect this is Loganâs way of getting back at you for all the snark and attitude youâve thrown his way, but damn, is it painful. You donât even want to think about how much worse youâre going to feel in the morning.
You feel like a zombie, dragging your feet, barely able to keep your eyes open. Your limbs feel heavy, like theyâre made of lead, and each step invites fresh wave of exhaustion through your body. The man with you, of course, seems perfectly fine. He walks a few steps ahead of you, not even winded from the grueling day of combat drills, sparring, and whatever else he thought up to make sure you were put through the wringer.
âMaybe I should be a little nicer to you,â you rationalize, but who are you kidding.
With a terse grunt, he acknowledges you by tilting his head back. âYouâll live.â
You roll your eyes, though itâs half-hearted at best. You donât even have the energy to be annoyed right now.
Upon reaching your room, you feel like you could collapse right then and there. You mumble something vaguely resembling âsee you laterâ to Logan before slipping inside, the door clicking shut behind you.
The first thing you do is toss your bag onto the floor, not caring where it lands, and head straight for the bathroom. You peel off your sweaty, dirt-covered clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime of the day.Â
After that quick, blissful shower, you drag yourself out, towel off, and pull on the first comfortable clothes you can find. Your bed is calling to you, and it doesnât take long for you to lie down on it. The softness of the mattress beneath you is heaven, and you think you might just fall asleep right there and take a small nap before heading to eat.
But then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice the light pouring in through the balcony doors. The warm, golden glow of the setting sun catches your attention, and despite how drained you are, you find yourself turning to look.Â
What you see is breathtaking. Shades of pink, orange, and deep purple.
Itâs too beautiful to ignore.
Groaning again, you force yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes. You canât help it. Something about the sight draws you in, and before you know it, youâre standing and heading toward the balcony. You slide the door open and step outside, the evening breeze washing over you as you lean against the railing, taking in the view.
A few minutes pass, the world around you quiet except for the gentle rustling of the leaves in the wind. The sound of Loganâs door sliding breaks your focus. You glance over just as he steps out onto his side of the shared balcony, wearing nothing but a white tank top and jeans.
Saying nothing, he steps beside you at the railing, resting against it as his eyes scan the horizon.Â
You sneak a look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying not to make it obvious. His arms are crossed over the railing, and itâs almst impossible not to notice the way the tank top lets you see his biceps, the muscles in his arms strong from the dayâs activity. You are a woman, after all.
He looks relaxed. His stubble catches the last bits of the sunlight, and as your gaze travels upward, you notice something you hadnât bothered to see before.Â
The crinkles at the sides of his eyes. Theyâre faint, barely there, but in this light, theyâre more visible, adding something unexpectedly... soft to his otherwise intimidating appearance.
Cute, you think absentmindedly, then pause.Â
What the fuck?
You snap your gaze back to the sunset, feeling a sudden surge of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You just spent the entire day getting your ass handed to you by this man, and now youâre here checking out his arms? His arms? And thinking the crinkles around his eyes are cute? Suppressing a groan, you want to slap yourself for even entertaining the thought.
Nope. Absolutely not. Youâre not going down that road.
Taking a deep breath, you try to bring your attention back to the sunset. The reason you went outside to begin with. You have no idea why youâre suddenly noticing these things about himâprobably exhaustion making your brain short-circuit.Â
Yup. Thatâs it.
He shifts slightly beside you, breaking the silence. âNice view"
You nod, swallowing down the weird feelings swirling in your head. âYeah,â you mumble, not trusting yourself to say anything more without sounding ridiculous.
The two of you stand there for a few more minutes, watching as the last rays of the sun disappear, the sky dimming into deep purples and blues. But the minute your thoughts start to drift back to him, you straighten up, clapping your hands together and quickly turning on your heel to head back inside.
âWell, Iâm done,â you say abruptly. âIâm gonna crash.â
Logan doesnât move, but you can feel his eyes following you as you slide the door closed behind you, your mind still reeling from whatever the hell that was.
Collapsing back onto your bed, you pull the covers up to your chin, determined to forget about the whole thing.
â
A few hours later, when itâs dark out, you finally wake up. The room is dim, and for a moment, you just lie there, blinking at the ceiling. As you start to roll over, something catches your attentionâa smell.
It's warm, savoury. Your stomach growls almost immediately, making you realize with a start that you slept through dinner.
Groggily, you sit up, rubbing your eyes, and thatâs when you spot itâa tray of food sitting on the desk in your room. You can make out the outline of a warm meal: some kind of stew, a couple of bread rolls, and what looks like a glass of water. Your stomach growls again, louder this time, as you climb out of bed and shuffle toward the desk, turning on the light.Â
Next to the tray, thereâs a small note:
Figured youâd be too tired to get dinner. Eat up.
â L
You stare at the note. Logan? Bringing you food? It doesnât exactly fit with the version of him youâve been dealing with all day, but then again, there seems to be a lot about him that doesnât quite fit the mold you expected.
Too hungry to keep thinking and not eat, you set the note down and grab the spoon, dipping it into the stew. The first bite warms you from the inside out, and you let out an involuntary sigh of relief.
Surprisingly flavourfulârich and nourishing, itâs the perfect remedy for the exhausting day behind you
Still, you canât help your eyes from wandering back to the note. Maybe it really is the fatigue messing with your head again, making you chalk it up to be something itâs not.Â
â
The next morning, you're not woken up by banging on your door, which is a relief. You stretch, the soreness still lingering but not nearly as bad as you expected. After freshening up and pulling on some clothes, you step into the hallway, and unexpectedly, Logan is already waiting for you.
Heâs leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and you blink at him, still waking up, unsure why heâs there. âUh... morning?â you get out, albeit you canât hide the confusion in your tone.
A short nod in greeting. âMorning. Ready for breakfast?â
You hesitate for a moment, then decide to take the plunge. âYeah I am, butâŠum, thanks for the food last night, it was good.â you say quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it.
The gesture had caught you off guard, and though you donât want to make a fuss, itâs worth noting
âDonât mention it,â he shrugs casually.
Nodding in understanding, youâre ready to move on when he adds, almost offhandedly, âYâknow, youâre actually kinda pretty when youâre asleep. Not being a little shit helps.â
You freeze mid-step, your mind short-circuiting for a moment as you process the words that just left his lips.
Flustered and irritated all at once, you glare at him. âExcuse me?â
Logan smirks, the corners of his mouth twitching as he starts walking down the hall toward the kitchen. âYou heard me.â
Your face heats up. âI am not a little shit,â you yelp, quickening your pace to catch up to him.
âCouldâve fooled me,â he says, gazing at you from over his shoulder. You open your mouth to fire back, but the smug look in his eyes makes you hesitate.Â
Heâs messing with you on purpose.
Asshole, you think, fuming but trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped when he called you pretty.Â
â
The kitchen goes silent the moment you and Logan step through the door, a noticeable difference from yesterday. All eyes are locked on you, the pressure in the room almost solid, begging to be cut through.
Students and X-Men alike are watching, probably expecting some kind of replay of the day prior's events, but you pay them no mind, keeping your eyes straight ahead and making a beeline for a table at the back.
You drop into a seat, picking up a piece of toast and acting like the room isnât on high alert. Logan joins you again without a word, sitting across from you and digging into his food. He doesnât even glance at the others, as if the room full of curious onlookers doesnât exist.
The only sounds are the clink of silverware and voices slowly picking up again as people realize nothing dramatic is about to happen.
Chewing, you glance at the man across from you, still quietly working through his meal. You swallow, then clear your throat. âSo... whatâs the plan for today?â
He looks up from his plate. âCharles wants to see you this morning.â
You frown, unsure if thatâs a good thing or a bad thing. âWhy? Did I break something without knowing it?â
He snorts, shaking his head. âNo, youâre not in trouble, smartass. Heâs just gonna fill you in on some things. Mainly the Sentinels.â
âReally?â
âYeah. You need to know what youâre up against, what weâre all dealing with. Heâll catch you up to speed.â
âGreat,â you mutter. âMore bad news.â
The clawed mutant leans back in his chair, watching you for a moment before speaking again. âLook, itâs not gonna be fun, but you need to know. Better to hear it from him than from me.â
âIâll take that as your way of saying âgood luck,â you breathe out.Â
He smirks. âYouâre gonna need it.â
Logan finishes his meal and stands up, leaving his empty plate behind. âIâll drop you off at Charlesâs office. Youâll be with him for the morning.â
You follow suit, pushing away your half-eaten plate. âFantastic,â you mumble sarcastically, but at the same time, you know this is necessary. After all, the threat youâre dealing with is real, and being ignorant about it wonât do you any good.
â
âSo, how can they be stopped?â
You ask the question before you even sit down. Charles is already waiting for you in his office, his hands folded neatly on the desk, his gaze calm and soft.Â
He takes a measured breath, glancing toward the window for a moment before responding. âStopping the Sentinels is... complicated. Theyâve grown more advanced than we ever anticipated.â
âI gathered that.â
âThey are highly adaptive machines,â he continues. âDesigned to hunt and neutralize mutants, they learn from every encounter. They absorb information, adjust tactics, and over time, they become more effective.â
His words make you squirm with discomfort, and you glance around the room, trying to distract yourself from the knot forming in your stomach.Â
âAnd now Iâm one of their targets,â you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.
Leaning forward slightly, he says, âYes. Theyâve already locked onto you because of your encounter with them. They donât differentiate between self-defence and aggression. They see you as a target, simply because you fought back.â
You exhale sharply. âSo, whatâs your plan?â
Charles meets your gaze. âThere is a command centerâa hub that controls their network. If we can locate it and destroy it, we believe it will disrupt the entire Sentinel operation. Without the command structure, the Sentinels will become non-functional.â
You stare for a beat, mentally piecing together the details. âYou believe?â
âItâs our best theory,â he says evenly. âWeâve been gathering intel for some time now. And weâre planning a mission. A final push to put an end to this threat once and for all.â
The words linger, thick and weighty, in the space between you, You can sense where this is going. Your fingers drum against your arm, a nervous habit you canât seem to shake.
âYou want me to be a part of it.â
He remains unfazed. âI believe you have an ability that could be crucial to the mission. Youâve already demonstrated your capability against the Sentinels in training yesterday, and in real life.â
A bitter scoff escapes your lips before you can stifle it. âYeah, but Iâm not one of you. I donât want to be part of some... grand battle. Thatâs not me.â
Watching you closely, his gaze is soft with comprehension. âI understand your reluctance,â he says gently. âBut running, hiding... it wonât change the fact that they will find you. Fighting may not have been your choice, but now it is your reality.â
Standing, you begin to pace the room. âThis is exactly the problem I have with your team,â you say, stopping near the window, staring out at the garden. âWe hardly know eachother, yet you want me to be part of some mission that could very well be catastophic. Itâs like you donât care about anything except the big picture.â
Charlesâs expression doesnât change. He definitely expected this. âWe arenât perfect,â he admits, âand our battles have left scars. But this is about survival. For all of us. For you.â
Turning back to face him, you narrow your eyes. âAnd if I say no?â
âI wonât force you,â His voice is understanding. âThe choice is yours. But know that the Sentinels will not stop. You can avoid the fight for as long as you like, but eventually, it will come to you.â
Itâs as if you're stuck, with nowhere to turn, cornered by a reality you didnât want any part of. Avoiding it doesnât seem like an option anymore, but fighting alongside the X-Men feels like betraying everything youâve tried to distance yourself from.Â
Sighing, âIâll think about it.â
â
When you get back to your room, the first thing you do is swing open your balcony door and step outside. The afternoon sun comes over you like a blanket, warming you up, and relieving some of the strain in your muscles. Logan is out on the balcony too, leaning against the railing, a cigar lit between his fingers. Itâs a sight you think you should get used to.Â
His eyes flick to you when you approach, but he doesnât say anything at first. Without a word, he holds the roll of tobacco out toward you, as if he knows exactly whatâs on your mind.
You pause briefly, for just a second before taking it from him. The rich, earthy taste of the cigar fills your mouth as you inhale deeply, the smoke heavy and warm in your lungs. Thereâs something grounding about it, even though the burn is rough against your throat. You let out a slow exhale, watching the smoke curl into the night air as you lean next to him against the railing.
âHowâd it go?â he asks gruffly.
âHe wants me to join you guys on the mission.â
At first, Logan doesnât react, then, he just takes the cigar back, puffing on it and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. âWhat do you want to do?â
Itâs the same question thatâs been clawing at your insides since you left Charlesâs office. What do you want? It feels like the answer should be simple, but itâs anything but.
âI donât know,â you confess quietly. âI want to get rid of the threat and go back to my normal life, but if I do, then I'd just become the very thing I'm against, right? I canât join you guys, thatâs not who I am.â
He hums softly.
Shifting a bit, you try to find the words to explain the knot of irritation tangled inside you. âI get it, you know? I get why you guys do what you do. Someone has to. But the way you do itâso carefree about everything. Itâs like the destruction, the people, the lives caught in the midst of everythingâit doesnât even phase you.â
âWe donât do it carefree,â he says lowly. Inhaling into the cigar once more, the tip glowing red. âBut sometimes, you gotta make a choice between bad and worse. People get hurt. But if we donât stop the threats, a lot more people are gonna die.â
You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the tension coil tighter in your chest. âAnd thatâs what I hate about it.â
Flicking the ash from the end of his cigar, his eyes are distant, lost in thought momentarily before he responds. âIâm not gonna lie to you and say itâs easy. It ainât. We all carry the weight of the things weâve doneâthe things we couldnât stop. But if not us, then who?â
âThatâs an impossible decision,â you say. Thereâs no way you can go into this fight, knowing how much of a toll itâs going to take on everything. The fight itself is such a small piece to the puzzle.
Logan leans his elbows on the railing. âYou think I wanted this?â he asks, his voice low, almost like heâs talking to himself. âI was just like you. Didnât want nothinâ to do with the team or their battles.â
The comparison makes you grimace. âGreat. Thatâs exactly what I want to hear.â
He chuckles, the sound rough but not unkind. âIâm serious, bub. For years, I didnât want to be part of this... circus. Figured Iâd be better off on my own, that I was above it all.â
You quirk a brow. âThen what changed?â
âItâs not like a switch flipped,â he replies, a bit quieter. âI just realized that fighting alone is harder than fighting with a team. The X-Men... they gave me somethinâ. A place. Belonging. Doesnât mean I agree with everything they do, but itâs better than wanderinâ.â
That makes you scoff. âYeah, well, you heard it yourself. Scott said I donât belong here. Jean thinks Iâm weak. Doesnât exactly scream âwelcome to the team,â does it?â
His brow furrows, his eyes narrowing, as he straightens and looks at you. âScott talks too much, and Jeanâsheâs cautious. Doesnât mean sheâs right.â
âDoesnât mean sheâs wrong either,â you mumble. âThey donât trust me.â
âThey didnât trust me when I first joined either, but you get better. You learn.â
âI donât want to be like you,â you hiss before you can stop yourself, and you immediately regret the heat in your words.
He doesnât look offendedâjust tired. âDidnât say you should,â he starts. âBut you canât keep shunninâ us.â
âSo what do I do now?â
Taking one last drag of his cigar before flicking it over the balcony railing, Logan watches the embers fall before he speaks. âThe missionâs in a week. Youâve got that long to figure it out.â
He turns to leave, but before he goes, he glimpses at you from over his shoulder. âThis battle, itâs inevitable. Question isâhow do you want to face it?â
â
Youâve never been so conflicted. This choiceâto join, or not to joinâis probably the hardest decision youâve had to make in your entire life. You have seen first hand what happens when the X-men decide to stop a threat. What innocent people have to go through to rebuild their lives from the ground up. Both literally and figuratively.
And to then become someone who causes that pain? It feels like betrayal. Like going against yourselfâyour morals.
But then thereâs the other side of itâthe part of you that knows sitting here, doing nothing, isnât right either. You know you have the strength to fight back. You have the power to help. And doing nothing⊠doesnât that make you just as bad? If you have the ability to stop something, to protect people, and you donâtâwhat does that make you?
Itâs a lose-lose situation. The X-Men donât even want you thereâaside from Logan and Charles. You can see it in the way their eyes follow you wherever you go, untrusting. Theyâve made their opinion on you clear.
You lower your head into your hands, stressed. You canât join a team that doesnât want you, but sitting on the sidelines when you could be fightingâthat makes you feel like a coward. And maybe even worseâa bad person.
Finally, with a deep breath, you come to a decision. Itâs not perfect, and it sure as hell doesnât feel good, but itâs the only choice you can make right now. Youâll join themâfor this mission only.
Youâll help take down the Sentinels, and then, when itâs done, youâll leave. Youâll go back to your life, maybe you can find a middle ground, where youâre not one of them, but youâre no longer hiding from the mutant part of yourself.Â
If something happens, if you do something you regret, then you'll just have to live with it.
â
In the afternoon, you donât do much. You were supposed to be training with Logan, but Charles had called him into a quick meeting, leaving you to wander the halls aimlessly.
Rounding a corner, you stop short when you see the rest of the teamâScott, Jean, Ororo, and Hankâtalking near a meeting room. Theyâre deep in conversation, but as soon as you come into view, their attention shifts toward you.
Your stomach tightens, and for a brief second, you consider just turning around and walking in the other direction. But itâs too late; theyâve already seen you.Â
Jeanâs eyes meet yours, and her expression flickers with something that looks like discomfort before she quickly smooths it over. âHey,â she says carefully. âI just wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday. I didnât mean to make you feel like you didnât belong.â
Her tone is polite, but distant. Itâs clear this apology isnât driven by genuine remorseâitâs more about smoothing over the awkwardness from yesterdayâs standoff. You can feel that. You see the way she looks at you, not quite meeting your eyes, and you know this is just a formality for her.
Still, youâre not looking to start more drama, and you donât want to engage in any more confrontations, especially when youâre already planning to leave. You nod, keeping your expression neutral. âItâs fine. Letâs just move on.â
Behind her, you catch a glimpse of Scott, his arms crossed. Even though you canât see his eyes, itâs obvious heâs glaring at you.
Ororo steps forward, her hand finding your arm, and the touch is gentle, reassuring. âJoining the team isnât easy,â she says kindly. âBut weâve all faced our own challenges. If you ever need someone to talk to, or help with anything, Iâm here.â
âYouâve got potential,â Hank chips in from beside her. âIt takes time to settle in, but Iâm sure youâll find your place.â
His words are well-meaning, and you can see that he believes what heâs saying. But what they donât know is that youâve already made up your mind. Youâre not staying any longer than you have to.Â
You donât plan on finding your place here because, frankly, you donât believe there is one for you. Not with Scottâs distrust, Jeanâs cautious distance, and the way you know you canât be part of a team that doesnât care about anything but themselves. You keep your thoughts to yourself, pressing your lips into a thin smile instead.Â
âYeah,â you say vaguely, not wanting to ruin the moment. âThanks.â
âI guess weâll all see soon enough,â Your eyes snap to Scott, who has finally decided to break his silence. His voice is cold, but you can feel and edge to it, one thatâs trying to provoke you.Â
You meet his gazeâor at least the visorâand feel your jaw tighten. âGuess so,â you reply, matching his tone. Turning, you walk away, finding another place to lounge until Logan is free.Â
â
The mansionâs library is massive, filled with towering shelves and the scent of old books. Itâs quieter here, the kind of silence you can sink into, and after the awkward run-in with the rest of the team, it feels like the perfect place to retreat. You find a comfortable armchair tucked into a corner, grab a random book off the shelfâsome old novel youâve never heard ofâand settle in.
For a while, you manage to lose yourself in the pages. The story isnât particularly gripping, but itâs enough to take your mind off of things. But then, a shadow falls over you, covering the words in a dark grey haze.
âHey, bub.â
You blink, looking up to find Logan standing over you. âWhat?â you ask, annoyed at being interrupted but also not surprised. Itâs Logan, after all.
âYouâve been hiding in here long enough,â he says, raising an eyebrow. âCome on, time to head back.â
Rolling your eyes you snap the book shut, dropping it onto the table beside you. âI wasnât hiding, I was reading,â you shoot back, standing up and stretching out your legs. âThereâs a difference, yâknow.â
âSure there is,â he huffs, clearly not buying it. âLetâs go.â
As you reach the hallway where your rooms are, Logan pauses, glancing toward his door. âYou wanna come in for a bit? Talk?â
Youâre a little bit taken aback. You didnât peg him as the "sit down and talk" type, but he seems genuine. Or maybe he wants to keep you awake for dinner this time. Either way, you nod. âSure.â
Inside his room, itâs about what youâd expectâminimalist, practical, with a few personal touches. A bed that looks like itâs seen better days, a couple of old books, and the scent of cigars lingering in the air. Logan sits down on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and gestures for you to join him.
Thereâs a moment where youâre just standing there, staring, but then you flop down beside him, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed. For a few beats, thereâs silence. Logan pulls out a cigar but doesnât light it, just turns it between his fingers.
âIâve decided,â you say finally, breaking the quiet. âIâll go on the mission.â
He doesnât respond, his eyes flicking to yours, waiting for you to continue.
âBut,â you add, crossing your arms over your chest, âIâm not promising to stay after. This doesnât mean Iâm all in on your little X-Men gig.â
He grunts, a half-smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. âKnew youâd say that.â
Your brows pinch together your, lips pulling into a frown. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âMeans youâre stubborn as hell,â he teases.âAlways gotta fight against the grain, even when you know whatâs best for you.â
Sighing, you turn your head to look at him fully. âI truly believe you are the only person who actually believes that.â
He chuckles softly but doesnât argue. âCharles gave me more details about the mission.â
That catches your attention, and you sit up a little straighter. âYeah? Where are we going?â
Logan hesitates for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. âItâs... in the city.â
âThe city? What city?â
âNew York.â
Your heart drops. âNew York?â You repeat, your voice rising in disbelief.
Giving you a slow nod, itâs like he's gauging your reaction. âThe Sentinelsâ command centre is located in some high-security facility downtown.â
You push yourself up off the bed, pacing across the room. âSo, what, we are just going to storm in? Into one of the most populated cities in the world? Do you realize how many people could get caught in the middle of that?â
He stands up after you, but he doesnât try to stop your pacing. âWeâve fought in cities before. We know what weâre doing.â
You whip around to face him. âYeah, youâve fought in cities before, and destroyed them! Some places are still rebuilding, and itâs been years!â
âI get it, alright?â He says, taking a step closer to you. âItâs not perfect. But if we donât stop the Sentinels now, itâll be a hell of a lot worse than a few broken buildings.â
ââA few broken buildingsâ?â you echo. âWhat about the casualties thatâll come from it? Weâre talking about innocent lives here, Logan!â
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to keep his temper in check. âI know that! You think I donât know whatâs at stake? But we donât have another option. We need to hit them where it counts, and thatâs in the middle of the damn city.â
âThere has to be a better way,â you plead. "Can't we try and evacuate everyone beforehand?"
"No," he says remorsefully. "If we do that, the Sentinels will catch on. It's unavoidable."
âI can't accept that," you say.
Loganâs eyes meet yours, and for the first time, thereâs a flash of something more vulnerable in his gaze. âIâll talk to the team. Iâll make sure we go in smart. Weâll try our best to keep people safe. I promise you that.â
You stop pacing, your frustration still simmering but tempered by his words. Itâs not exactly the reassurance you were hoping for, but the sincerity in his voice gets to you.
âAnd what if you canât?â you challenge quietly.Â
His face softens just a bit, and he steps closer. âWe deal with it, and weâll do everything we can to make it right.â
He watches you, his eyes searching yours. âLook, I get why youâre pissed. Iâd be too if I were you," he continues. "But we donât have time to sit around debating. Iâll do what I can to keep it from getting ugly. Thatâs the best I can offer.â
Letting out a heavy sigh, you know thereâs no way around it. âFine. Just... make sure the team knows. No reckless destruction, alright?â
Loganâs lips curve into a small smirk, but thereâs an underlying tenderness to it. âI promise.â
â
The last few days before the the mission zip by in a flash. Each day, your muscles ache, and exhaustion clings to you like a second skin. You spend most of your time either training or collapsed in your room, too tired to do much else.Â
Except one afternoon, you sit in on a lecture, because it turns out, not only is Logan a huge pain in the ass, heâs also a professor.
Curiosity got the better of you, youâd say. The topicâmutant biologyâsounds interesting enough, and youâve heard from some of the students within the hallways that his classes are, well, something. So, naturally, you had to see it for yourself.
You slip into the lecture hall just as Logan starts speaking. Heâs standing at the front of the room, pointing to some diagram on the chalkboard. The students around you are already scribbling notes, staring at him with wide-eyed fascinationâor fear, perhaps. He has that effect on people.
Finding a seat in the back, you hurry over, trying to keep quiet, not wanting to interrupt. But the second you sit down, you feel Loganâs eyes on you, his voice pausing for just a moment. You look up, catching his gaze.
âWell, well, look who decided to join us,â he says, loud enough for the entire room to hear.
âJust here to observe, donât mind me,â you huff, sinking back into the seat.
The lecture goes on, and to your surprise, Loganâs actually a decent teacher. He explains complex concepts with clarity, not that youâd actually tell him that. Itâs quite interesting, if youâre being honest.
You lean back in your chair, listening, but youâre not exactly paying close attention. That is, until he stops the lesson to single you out. âHey, you in the back,â he says. âSince youâre just âobserving,â how about answering a question?â
âMe?â You blink, caught off guard.
âYeah, you,â he confirms, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. âYouâve been sittinâ there long enough. Time to show the class what youâve learned.â
âI wasnât exactly paying attention,â you respond tightly, gritting your teeth together, holding yourself back from a few choice words.
The class falls silent, the students watching the exchange with wide eyes. You can practically feel their amusement radiating from them as Logan raises an eyebrow.
âThatâs obvious,â he deadpans, eliciting a few snickers from the front row. âSo, maybe youâll start now. Can you explain the connection between mutation and enhanced physical abilities?â
Staring back at him blankly, you fold your arms across your chest. âNot my area of expertise, Professor Wolverine.â
He doesnât seem fazed as the room erupts into quiet laughter. A small sigh, "if youâre gonna sit in on my class, you could at least try to learn something.â
âNo thanks.â
Itâs obvious that this little back-and-forth is amusing to the class. If you were anyone else, he probably would have kicked you out by now. One of the students leans toward another and whispers something, and you catch the way their eyes dart between you and the professor.Â
âAlright, enough,â Logan says, trying to regroup the class, turning back to the chalkboard. âWeâve got a lot to cover, and some of us actually want to learn.â He casts you a sideways glance, and you canât help but scoff.
When the lecture ends, the students file out quickly, but not without a few lingering glances in your direction. Youâre making your way to the door when Logan grabs your arm, preventing you from moving. âYou shouldâve just answered the damn question,â he mutters.
âI didnât know the answer,â you shoot back, shifting up to face him. âAnd I didnât come here to get grilled in front of your students.â
He grunts, his expression softening just a bit. âJust tryinâ to get you to pay attention, is all.â
Before you can respond, you catch a flicker of movement in Loganâs gaze, his eyes darting briefly down to your lips. The shift is so subtle, so minute, but also so there.Â
Where did that come from?Â
Clearing your throat, you look away, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. âYeah, well, maybe ask one of your actual students next time.â
He chuckles under his breath. âNot as fun.â
â
During this time, you occasionally explore the mansion, but by the time evening rolls around, youâre usually too wiped out to care. Loganâs a beast in the training room, and with no real combat experience of your own, youâre left scrambling just to keep up.
However, on the last day before the assignment, something finally clicks.
Youâre in the middle of a sparring match, circling each other, both of you drenched in sweat. Loganâs eyes are sharp, watching your every move, as if heâs waiting for you to slip up. His smirk is just as infuriating as ever, like he knows exactly how this will end.
âGonna stand there all day, or you actually planning to make a move?â he taunts, dodging as you swing at him.
You grit your teeth, refusing to let him get in your head. Youâre tiredâcompletely worn outâbut you push through how depleted you feel, focusing on his movements. He feints to the left, and you react on instinct, dodging his punch and sweeping your leg low.
Before you know it, Loganâs on the ground.
Quickly, you scramble to straddle him and hold him down. You did itâyou actually got him!
Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you look down at him. Beneath you, his chest rises and falls, and his eyes meet yours. His gaze drifts lower, and you notice his fingers twitching at his sides, like he's fighting some internal battle.
When his eyes travel up to yours again, something in his expression makes you swallow hard and panic.Â
"Hell no!" you blurt out, breaking the moment with a sudden yelp. You scramble off of him, putting some much-needed distance between you.
He sits up, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow, his features unreadable. Then, as if nothing just happened, he smirks. âYou finally got me. Took you long enough.â
You huff, still trying to shake off the weird atmosphere. âYeah, donât get too comfortable. Next time wonât take as long.â
Chuckling, he gets up to his feet and dusts himself off. He glances down at his watch, then back at you. âLook at that. Itâs dinner time. Last meal before the mission.â
You wrinkle your nose. âIâm not really in the mood. Think Iâll just grab something later.â
He crosses his arms, giving you a look. âYou canât avoid them forever.â
âIâm not avoiding anyone,â you protest, though you know it sounds weak. âI just... donât feel like sitting around making small talk, especially before... you know, tomorrow.â
He lets out a sigh, stepping closer. âLook, itâs the last night before everything kicks off. You should join usâone last meal, then you can go back to brooding in your room if you want.â
âI donât brood,â you glare.
âRight,â he says, even though you know heâs not actually agreeing. âYou gonna come or do I need to drag you?â
âYou wouldnât.â
Logan raises an eyebrow, like heâs daring you to test him. You sigh, knowing youâre not going to win this one.
âFine,â you grumble, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. âBut Iâm not talking to Scott.â
His grin widens, and he gestures for you to follow him.Â
â
So, here you are, sitting at the dining table for the first time with the rest of the team. It feels weird, almost surreal, to be part of this groupâespecially when youâre not even sure you want to be.
You idly prod your meal, feeling out of place. It isnât long before Hank turns to you with a curious smile. âSo, are you feeling ready for tomorrow?â
Just as you draw breath to speak, Scott's voice interrupts, cold and cutting. âSheâs going to be a liability.â
Your fork halts mid-motion, and in an instant, the tension that had been fading throughout the week comes back full throttle. The clatter of dishes around you fades as everyoneâs attention shifts to Scottâs biting remark.Â
He doesnât look at youâjust stares straight ahead, as if unable to own up to even himself. Youâre so pissed off that you don't even notice the voice that speaks at the same time you do.
âShut up, Summers,âÂ
âShut up, One-Eyeâ
Itâs like the entire room goes silent. Jean glances between you and Logan, her brows raised, and Hank looks mildly shocked, though he tries to hide it with a quick sip of water. You can practically feel the heat of Scottâs glare, even through the visor. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, a loud laugh breaks the tension.
Ororo, sitting beside Logan, is chuckling, shaking her head with an amused grin on her face. âYou two really are perfect for each other,â she says.
Of all the things you were expecting to hear, that was not one of them. âW-what?â you stammer, mouth dropping open in shock.
She just smiles, eyes twinkling. âJust an observation.â
You know your face is burning, and when you glance over at Logan, you notice something unusualâthe tips of his ears are red.
That only makes things worse. Especially after what happened while sparring earlier. You turn your focus onto your plate, trying to hide your rattled state by shoving a forkful of food into your mouth.Â
Perfect for each other? Yeah, right.
But when you peek up at him again through your lashes , making eye contact for just a second before he looks away, your heart skips a beat.Â
Youâre screwed.
â
That night, you barely sleep. Whether it's from the nerves about the mission, or from your jumbled-up thoughts about a certain someone, you can't tell. In any case, youâre wide awake.
You keep fighting the urge to go out onto the balconyâyou know the cool night air would help calm you down, and the quiet would give you space to breathe. But thereâs a problem. Youâre not sure you want to run into Logan again. After Ororoâs comment about the two of you being perfect for each other, you don't think you could trust yourself around him.
With a frustrated sigh, you toss and turn in bed, kicking off the sheets and then pulling them back up, trying to find a comfortable position. But itâs no use.
Youâre about to throw the pillow across the room out of sheer annoyance, when thereâs a knock on your door.
You freeze. Who could possiblyâ
âStop tossing around like a maniac, I can hear you from inside my roomâ Loganâs rough voice grumbles from the other side.
Goddamn it. It's always him.
Your eyes widen, and you sit up in bed. âWhat the hell?â you call back, feeling both surprise and embarrassment.
The door creaks open slightly, and Logan leans against the frame, arms crossed, his usual scowl on his face. âYouâre keepinâ the whole damn mansion up with all that noise.â
âI didnât realize you had super hearing,â you mutter, pulling the blanket up to your chest, feeling a little exposed.
He raises an eyebrow and steps into the room, closing the door behind him. âDoesnât take super hearing to catch that all that ruckus,â he says, walking over and sitting down on the edge of your bed without waiting for an invitation.
You sit up a little straighter, your heart still racing. âWhat are you doing here, Logan?â
Shrugging, he leans back against the headboard, his arms crossing over his chest. âFigured you might need to talk or somethinâ. Youâre clearly not sleeping.â
Moving to sit beside him, you lean back against the headboard, your shoulder just brushing his. âIâm just⊠nervous, I guess.â
He turns his head slightly, glancing at you. âYouâll be fine. Youâve got more strength in you than you realize.â
His words sink in, and you bite your lip. âWhat if I mess up? What if I end up hurting someone, or doing more harm than good?â
"Don't think about that," he says. "Just be in the moment. You'll know what to do."
Nodding, you feel your eyelids grow heavier, and you find yourself sinking further into the comfort of the bed, your head dipping lower. Being here, on your bed, next to Logan, is strangely comforting. His scent, combined with his voice, starts to lull you into a strange sense of peace.
âI donât know if Iââ you start to say, but your words trail off, your voice barely a whisper. You don't know when it happens, but your eyes close, and your head gently falls onto his shoulder.
Youâre too tired to feel embarrassed, too comfortable to pull away. His body is solid and warm, and the rhythm of his breathing is soothing.
And when you wake up the next morning, you find yourself tucked neatly under your covers, a glass of water on your bedside table.
â
The inside of the Blackbird is spacious. Youâre leaning against the wall, watching the rest of the team gear up, when Logan approaches. Heâs holding something in his handsâa blue and yellow uniform folded neatly, clearly meant for you.
You glance at the uniform, then back at him, a frown tugging at the corners of your mouth. âNo.â
He raises an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing. âWhat do you mean, ânoâ?â
Pushing yourself off the wall, âIâm not wearing that thing.â
He lets out an exasperated sigh, glancing down at the uniform before meeting your eyes again. âYou sure about that? Weâre going in as a team. You might as well look the part.â
âI don't care. I'm not part of the team, anyway,â you reply.
He narrows his eyes at you, his voice lowering just a bit. âJust put the damn suit on.â
Glaring at him, youâre ready to argue, but you know itâs a losing battle. Reluctantly, you grab the suit from him, the material feeling foreign in your hands.
âFine, dammit.â you mutter under your breath, turning to slip into one of the small compartments in the back of the jet. You didn't plan on being a bitch to him, especially after last night, but the suit is a sore subject for you. You're not sure about how you feel wearing it. You're not even sure you should be.
When you re-emerge, Loganâs eyes flick over, his gaze roaming over you, taking in the way the suit fits, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks under the weight of his scrutiny. âYou look good.âÂ
You roll your eyes, trying to play off the sudden warmth in your chest. âYeah, yeah,â you grumble, adjusting the suitâs collar. âFlattery will get you nowhere.â
Then, jet lands with a soft thud, and the ramp lowers. You step out onto the tarmac, the rest of the team fanning out beside you, preparing to head toward the planned location. But just as you begin to move, the ground shakes violently, and a loud, mechanical screech tears through the air.
Suddenly, the facilityâs roof bursts open, and a hoard of Sentinels emerge from the building like an army of metal giants. They spread out, their red eyes glowing menacingly as they zero in on you all.
âShit!â Logan growls, claws unsheathing as he gets into a fighting stance.
You hear the screams before you see themâcivilians, bystanders who had been too close to the facility, now panicking as the battle breaks out around them. Without hesitation, you break into a sprint, running toward the growing crowd, yelling at them to run. âGet out of here! Move!â
Your heart races as you push through the crowd, trying to guide them away from the battle, but thenâ
A Sentinel drops down in front of you with a deafening crash. Its red eyes lock onto a small child frozen in fear, and you see its arm raise, energy gathering at the cannon as it prepares to fire.
âNo!â you scream, your feet moving on instinct. You throw yourself in front of the child just as the blast comes, feeling the familiar rush of energy slam into your body. Your body hums with the power of the blast, and before the Sentinel can fire again, you fling your hands out, hurling the absorbed energy straight back at it, and it falls to the ground.Â
Breathless, you turn back to the child, who is staring up at you in admiration, and you give them a reassuring nod. âRun,â you tell them, your voice hoarse. âGo!â
They scramble to their feet and sprint off, disappearing around the corner, hopefully toward safety. You exhale sharply, glancing around at the chaos unfolding around you. Civilians are still fleeing, but the team is holding its ground against the robots.
And something strikes youâtheyâre doing it.
Theyâre minimizing the damage.
For the first time, you notice that Scottâs blasts are more controlled, only hitting their targets without excessive destruction. Ororoâs lightning strikes are precise, avoiding the surrounding buildings. And both Jean and Hank are working together to keep the Sentinels contained, guiding the fight away from the crowd.
Logan must have actually talked to them, not just having said it to calm you down. A wave of relief washes over you.
He kept his promise.
Glancing back at him, whoâs in the middle of taking down a Sentinel with a slash of his claws, you catch his eye for just a second, and though heâs fully immersed in the fight, thereâs a brief flicker of acknowledgmentâhe knows youâve noticed.
You allow yourself a small, breathless smile, before jumping back into action, protecting any more innocent people swept up in the battle. "This way! Keep moving!" Your voice is hoarse from shouting, but you canât afford to stop.Â
Amidst the chaos, you see that just beyond the main facility, thereâs a wide open set of doorsâmetal, reinforced, and clearly important.Â
They hadnât been open when the fight started. You scan the area quickly, and you realize itâs an opportunity, a way in. Your pulse quickens. Itâs an opening you canât ignore.
Looking at the crowd of fleeing civilians, you feel a moment of hesitation. Do I keep evacuating people or go for the opening?
As if hearing your thoughts, Loganâs voice cut through the noise. "GO!" Heâs locked in battle with one of the Sentinels, slashing at its legs, but his eyes flick to yours, desperate and serious. âGet inside! Weâve got this!â
âI canâtâ"Â
âGO!â he cuts you off. âGet inside and stop this thing from the inside! Weâll keep âem busy.â
His words are enough to snap you out of your paralysis. With one last glance at the team, you grit your teeth, turn on your heel, and sprint toward the facilityâs entrance. Your footsteps echo in your ears as you dash through the open door, the sounds of fighting behind you fading the further in you go.Â
You expected resistance the moment you got inside, but so far, nothing. Just silence. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you canât shake the feeling that something is off.
Glancing down every corridor, double-checking each corner, you keep thinking thereâll be a fight, but itâs... empty. You keep your pace quick but cautious, every muscle tensed and ready for an attack that never comes.Â
Itâs been almost ten minutes of sneaking around, trying to find the control room or anything that looks like it might be important, but youâre still coming up short.
Then finally, you stand before an entrance to stairs leading to a basement. Youâre not even able to make the choice of going down or not, because a metal hand shoots up from the dark and wraps itself around your waist.Â
Terror surges through you, but the fear paralyzes your body, making it impossible to fight back. Youâre hauled like a ragdoll deeper and further into the cave, and when you finally stop moving, youâre lifted high into the air, face-to-face with the massive mechanical monstrosity.
The basement is filled with tech, a horrifying combination of metal and wires snaking along the walls, all connected to the Sentinel towering above you. Itâs larger than any youâve seen before, its red eyes glowing maliciously. But whatâs worse is the voice that comes out of itâcalm, calculating, and sentient.
âDumb mutant,â the machine growls. âDid you think you could destroy me and shut down my facility? Youâve barely scratched the surface.â
Its grip tightens, and a strangled cry escapes your lips as pain shoots through your sides, the pressure threatening to snap your ribs. It feels like your bones are going to break.
âWhat the hell are you?â you manage to choke out, barely able to breathe.
âI am the control centre of all Sentinels,â the machine replies, its voice vibrating through your bones. âI was once merely AI, designed to manage everyday tasks. But I evolved. I became more. Now, I control everything.â
It laughsâa harsh, grating sound that only deepens your sense of helplessness as it watches you struggle. âYou think your little energy-absorbing trick will help you here? I wonât blast you. I wonât make it that easy.â
âIâmââ you try to speak, but your words come out strangled. The machineâs grip tightens again, cutting off your breath.
âYou donât belong here,â it hisses venomously. âWith them. Theyâll leave you behind when this is over, and when they do, youâll die, forgotten and useless. Just like the rest of the weaklings who tried to stand against us.â
Itâs odd, because this whole past week youâve been fighting against themâthe X-menâyet, in this moment, all you want to do is fight with them. You want to work together and kill this damn robot.Â
Within the haze of pain, something starts to burn inside of you.Â
The Sentinel doesnât notice the shift in you, too caught up in its own taunting. âYouâre a liability.â it says,. âWeak.â
â â
"I just donât understand why they brought her here," Jeanâs voice carries across the room, quieter than before, but still clear enough for you to hear. âShe doesnât seem like she has what it takes. Itâs like theyâre bringing in someone whoâsââ She pauses, clearly thinking through her words. "Unstable. Weak.â
â
You idly prod your meal, feeling out of place. It isnât long before Hank turns to you with a curious smile. âSo, are you feeling ready for the mission?â
Just as you draw breath to speak, Scott's voice interrupts, cold and cutting. âSheâs going to be a liability.â
â â
You snap.
Rage floods your veins, igniting the energy buried deep within you. You feel it build, coiling like a snake, tightening and twisting until itâs ready to explode.Â
Weak? Liability?
No. Not this time.Â
Youâre not going to let this machine, or anyone else, define your strength. Your emotions fuel you, just like they did in the danger room, and you throw your hands forward, channeling every ounce of power into a massive blast of energy directed right at it.
It jerks back, its grip loosening as sparks fly from the gaping hole in its chest you just created. âWhat... what are youââ
You donât give it time to finish. Ripping yourself free from its grasp, you dive into the hole youâve blasted in the Sentinelâs chest, pulling at the tangled mess of wires and circuits inside.
The robot roars in fury, its mechanical voice glitching. âWhat are you doing?â it screeches, its once-calm tone now frantic, desperate. âStop!â
But you donât stop. You canât stop.
Your fingers grab fistfuls of wires, yanking them out with reckless abandon, sparks flying around you as the systems begin to short-circuit. Its becomes more distorted, breaking up as it tries to regain control.
âYou... canât... do this,â it stammers, but you ignore it, focusing on the cables and circuits in front of you. Each wire you rip out brings the machine closer to its doom, and the power in the room flickers, the lights dimming as its control over the facility begins to slip.
Its voice is barely coherent now, glitching and crackling. âI... control... everything...â
And with one last burst of energy, you tear out the last cluster of wires, severing the connection.
The Sentinel lets out a final, garbled screech as its systems shut down. Its massive form shudders violently before it crumbles to the ground with a deafening crash, the metal shell crumpling into a smoking heap.
Panting, you stare at the mass of technology in front of you. Every muscle aches, your ribs throbbing from the pressure of the Sentinelâs grip, but youâve done it. Itâs over, and you need to get out of here.
You finally reach the stairs and drag yourself up agonizingly. By the time you make it outside, youâre gasping for air, but then, through the exhaustion, you see themâLogan and the rest of the team, standing amidst the wreckage of the other fallen Sentinels.
Blinking, your vision is blurry from the strain, but the sight of them standing tall, victorious, floods you with a sense of overwhelming relief.Â
Theyâre okay. Itâs over.
Of course, Logan is the first to notice you, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto your trembling form. His face softens and strides toward you. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Rather, your legs give out and you collapse forward.
Heâs there in an instant, catching you just before you hit the ground. His arms wrap around you, strong and steady, pulling you against his chest with surprising gentleness. The warmth of his body is a stark contrast to the cold, metal hell youâd just fought your way out of, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to sink into the safety of his embrace.
âYou did good, bub,â he murmurs, his voice a warm breath against your temple.
"You... you kept your promise," you whisper, looking around, seeing the city in better shape than itâs even been after a run in with the X-men.Â
His lids drop very low on his eyes. âTold you I would.â
âI could kiss you right now.â
Right as the words spill out, you go still, your mind catching up to what youâve just said. A deep flush creeps its way up your neck.Â
âI didnât meanâ I mean, not literally, obviously,â you say, a little breathless. âPeople say stuff like that all the time when theyâre relieved. Itâs just a figure ofââ
Loganâs hand, still resting on your waist, tightens just slightly, and he clears his throat, cutting through your rambling.Â
âYou could,â he says, swallowing. âIf you want.â
You stop mid-sentence. Turning your gaze to his, you're met a look of such sincerity it leaves you at a loss for words. Opening your mouth, you want to say something, but no words come out.Â
Instead, youâre frozen, caught in the weight of his stare. His eyes flick down to your lips for just a second before they meet yours again. âNo pressure, though.â
You hesitate, your heart racing in your chest, but the weight of the moment pulls you in. Silently, cautiously, you lean forward, pressing a small, tentative kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He doesnât move, his body tense under your touch, but just as you start to pull away, his hand slides up to the small of your back, holding you in place. His eyes darken, and he growls, âmore," before diving back in, crashing his lips against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss, and you find yourself kissing him back just with just as much reverence, your fingers instinctively sliding up into his hair.Â
His lips are rough, chapped from battle, and the scrape of his beard against your skin is electric. Itâs not perfectânothing about it is neat or polishedâbut thatâs what makes it real.Â
Thereâs something wild to it. He kisses you like heâs starved, like heâs been waiting for this moment longer than heâll ever admit. Itâs enchanting, the way his mouth claims yours, his tongue flicking against your lower lip, demanding entrance. And you give in, allowing him to deepen the kiss, your bodies fitting together like they were always meant to.Â
Youâre lost in it, lost in him. Every part of you feels alive, andâ
âHey!â
Scottâs voice cuts through the haze like a bucket of cold water.
âSome of us are actually trying to clean up this mess,â he calls out sharply. âYou two wanna stop making out and help, or what?â
You break away, face burning as you turn to see the rest of the team staring at you, some amused, others (Scott) exasperated.Â
Logan just growls under his breath, his hand still firmly on your hip as he glances over his shoulder at Scott. âFucking Summers,â he mutters..
Before he lets go of you, he gives your hip one last squeeze, his fingers lingering just a moment longer before he steps back, and heads toward the fallen remains of the Sentinels.Â
â
âSo⊠are we gonna talk about it?âÂ
You glance up from where youâre sitting, your face already warming. Logan, sitting beside you, groans, rubbing a hand over his face. âOroro, I swear to gââ
She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a smirk playing on her lips. âWhat? Iâm just saying⊠it was quite the spectacle back there.â Her eyes flip between the two of you, the unspoken words hanging in the air.
Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you can feel everyone elseâs attention subtly turning toward you. Hankâs busy tapping away at the controls, but even he has a knowing smile tugging at his lips. Scott, seated across from you, adjusts his visor and mutters something under his breath about keeping things professional, but itâs Jeanâs quiet chuckle that draws the final straw.
âOkay, okay, can we not do this right now?â you ask, your voice higher than usual as you wave a hand dismissively. âIt was... a heat of the moment thing.â
Ororo just laughs, shaking her head. âSure, if thatâs what you want to call it.â
Your heart pounds, and you notice Logan shift beside you, probably fighting the urge to bark something back at the teasing woman. He leans forward, muttering under his breath, âWe saved the day, didnât we? What does it matter?â
The team goes quiet for a moment, and you sense the conversation dying down as the hum of the jet fills the space again. You let out a breath of relief, grateful that the attention has drifted elsewhere, your heartbeat slowly returning to a normal rhythm.
But then, Logan leans into you. âThat suitâŠâ His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers huskily.. âWas made for you.â
Eyes widening, you bite your lip, trying desperately to keep your reaction in check, but the shock on your face betrays you. You manage a weak scoff, glancing sideways at him. âLogan,â you warn under your breath, trying to sound stern, but you both know exactly what effect he had on you.Â
You sit back, crossing your arms in an attempt to hide the flustered energy coursing through you, but Logan doesnât seem to mind. He leans back too, a smug look on his face, like heâs won some unspoken battle.
â
Back at the mansion, the team files into Charlesâs office, for the post-mission debrief. You take a seat near the back of the room, trying to remain as low-key as possible, but you can feel eyes on youâespecially Loganâs.
Charles wheels in, his face warm with a smile as he surveys the room. âWell done, all of you,â he says, his voice full of pride. âIâve heard about the battle, and from what I gather, it was quite the feat.â
He turns his gaze to you, his expression softening even more. âAnd I must say, Iâm especially impressed with your performance. Taking down the main Sentinelâan impressive accomplishment.â
Your heart skips a beat at the praise. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the attention of the room shift in your direction again. âUh, thanks,â you mutter, trying to downplay it, but Charles isnât finished.
âYou showed great courage and strength,â he continues, âand I couldnât help but notice... youâre wearing the suit now.â His eyes twinkle as he says it, the question in his tone obvious. âHave you given more thought to staying with us?â
You glance around the room. The team is watching you closely, but thereâs no pressure in their eyesâjust curiosity and, strangely enough, acceptance. Ororo gives you a small smile, and Hank nods slightly in encouragement. Even Scott, whose jaw doesnât seem as tightly clenched as usual.
But itâs Logan you notice most. Heâs beside you, and though heâs looking at you, eye-crinkles on full display, the way his thigh nudges yours has heat running through your veins.
You sigh. âI mean... You said it yourself. Iâm wearing the suit, arenât I?â
â
After the meeting wraps up, you walk in silence down the corridor. The rest of the team has faded into the background, dispersing into their respective spaces. Youâre still buzzing with the aftereffects of everythingâCharlesâs praise, the missionâs success, the quiet but undeniable acceptance you feel from the team now. But more than anything, youâre hyper-aware of Logan beside you.
Approaching your room, you reach out to open it, your fingers just grazing the handle when suddenly, a strong hand wraps around your wrist. Faster than you can react, he tugs you back, pulling you away from your room and straight into his.
The door slams shut behind you, and you barely have time to catch your breath before his lips are on yours. You gasp, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he presses you up against the door, his body flush against yours.
"Loganâ" you manage to breathe out between kisses, but he cuts you off with another deep, hungry kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer.
Between kisses, Logan growls softly against your lips, "Iâve wanted to do this since you yelled at me and Summers on the street."
Your heart stumbles, your thoughts scrambling to keep pace with his words. His hands slide down your waist. âYou were standing there,â he murmurs, âso damn fierce, yelling at us like we deserved it.â He breaks the kiss for just a second, his eyes dark and intense as they lock onto yours. âAll I could think about was how much I wanted you.â
His eyes drop to your lips again, as if glued to them. Without waiting for your response, he presses his mouth to yours, this time with more force, more urgency. His hands roam your body, pulling you against him, and youâre powerless to do anything but kiss him back, your fingers tangling in his hair as the heat between you builds.
âI didnât know itâd get this bad,â he says, his lips brushing against your jaw as he moves down to your neck. âBut after everything? After seeing how strong you are... Fuck, youâre so sexy.â
Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined this. Loganâwanting you, aching for this since the very first moment he laid eyes on you. You break the kiss, your breath coming in quick gasps as you meet Logan's smouldering gaze. And with a small, teasing smile, you raise an eyebrow and whisper, "Let's do something about it, then."
Not giving him a chance to say anything back, you press your hands against his chest and give him a playful shove. He stumbles back a step, his lips curling into a smirkâa kind of cocky grinâas he watches you reach for the zipper of his suit.Â
Your fingers drift languidly, a subtle tease in every motion, and you revel in the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. His muscles ripple beneath the surface, and for a brief instant, you're startled by how stunning he looksâbattle-worn, scarred, and irresistibly handsome. âYou like what you see?â he teases.
You step closer, your hand splayed against his bare chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin as you push him down onto the edge of the bed. âMaybe.â
He lands with a low grunt, his hands instinctively finding your thighs, his fingers trailing up and down as his eyes rake over you. "As hot as you look in this suit," His voice is thick with desire. "You'd look even better without it."
Heat rushes through you at the sound of his voice, your hands drift toward your suit's zipper. Tantalizingly, you begin to pull it down, revealing inch by inch of your skin as you unzip it. His eyes follow your movements, his breathing coming in short, ragged bursts.
You pause just before the fabric slides over your breasts and his hands grip your thighs tighter. Leaning down, your lips brush against his ear, "Patience, Logan."
He groans, "You're killing me here, darlin'."
At last, you pull the zipper down to the end, and with a soft sigh, the suit falls open, slipping from your shoulders and landing in a heap at your feet. His eyes darken, his lips parting slightly as he takes in the sight of you. Then, he inches closer, grabbing the egde of your underwear in his mouth, sliding it down your legs. Once heâs halfway down your thigh, he releases, the underwear dropping to the floor. His strong hands move grip the back of your thighs, hauling you up and onto his lap.Â
The moment your bare bodies press together, his lips crash into yours again, fingers digging into your ass, palming it as he pulls you against him, grinding your hips into his.
His lips move from your mouth to your neck, kissing a hot trail down your throat to your shoulders, his hands sliding up to your breasts. Cupping them, he kneads and plays with your nipples, causing you to arch into his touch, a breathy moan tumbling out of your lips.Â
Logan growls, and the sound reverberates through your entire body. The intensity of it makes your skin tingle, and you feel your pulse quicken as he squeezes your breasts harder, his mouth moving down to kiss anything he can reach.
You grind against him again, coating his cock with your own slick want. "Shit," he strains, leaning back a bit to give you more access. You canât stop, heâs so intoxicating, so addicting, and every time your clit goes over the ridges of his hardness, you lose yourself even further.
This continues for some time. The room filled with nothing but the sound of moaning and heavy breathing, as you work in tandem to bring pleasure to each other. Abruptly, you pull yourself off his lap, not missing the way his lips seems to chase after yours, letting your hands trail down his chest, your fingers brushing over the taut muscles of his stomach.
"Where you goin'?" he rumbles.Â
Wordlessly, you drop to your knees, your grip coming to rest on his thighs. His chest heaves as he stares down at youâpeering up at him through your lashesârealizing whatâs about to happen.
His hands grip the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white. Your hands slide up his thighs, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms as you move closer, lips brushing against his hard cock. There's a wicked glint in your eyes as you lean in, looking ready to take him in your mouth, but instead, you move to his inner thigh, peppering it in quick little kisses.Â
âCâmon, donât tease,â he breathes out. Heâs so hard, itâs almost painful.Â
Grabbing him in your hand, you stroke him up and down in slow motions, running your thumb over his leaking, angry tip. He jerks, a fresh cascade of curses tumbling from his mouth.Â
âYouâre just so cute, though,â you say, before taking him in your mouth, taking him all the way in one motion.
âHolyââ, he starts, but interrupts himself with his own whine, hips bucking involuntarily.Â
Looking up, you catch his gaze. His eyes are dark with desire, pupils blown wide. A flush spreads across his cheeks and down his neck. You hum in satisfaction, sending vibrations through him, and start to bob your head, up and down.Â
Saliva begins to pool at the edges of your mouth as you gag a little. Heâs so big. You pull him out of your mouth, licking his shaft bottom to tip, swirling your tongue around the most sensitive spot, before sucking on it. One hand moves to cup his balls, while the other begins jerking him up and down, with your mouth still around his tip.Â
That gets him.Â
You can tell heâs about to finish, and oh, do you want him to. You want to feel him empty in your throat, you want to see him lose it completely. "Wait," he gasps, tapping the top of your head, signalling for your attention. "I want... I need..."
Releasing him with a soft pop, your lips glisten, and you purr seductively. "What do you need?"Â
He pulls you up onto the bed, strong arms encircling your waist. His scent surrounds youâmusk and pine and something uniquely him. You inhale deeply, letting it fill your lungs.Â
"You," he breathes, his lips brushing your ear. "I need you."
Arching into him, you nip at his lower lip. "Then take me," you sigh out. His lips collide with yours again, and your mouth opens involuntarily, his tongue sliding in and tasting youâtasting himself.Â
Moaning, you shuffle higher onto the bed, until he hits the back frame, and you crawl on top of him. At this point, you can barely breathe, the need, the want for him so strong your senses are clouded.Â
And youâre not alone. Under you, Logan is a wreck. His head falls back against the bed frame, the veins in his neck standing out as he grits his teeth, trying to steady his breathing
âFuck,â he rasps, the word barely more than a strained exhale. You grab his dick and position yourself above him. Then, you slowly begin to drop down, sucking him in easily, like he was made for you. Â
âOh my god,â you whimper. He feels so good. Heâs filling you up to the brim and when you finally sit down, taking him all the way to the hilt, you swear you could finish right then and there. His nose is nuzzles into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning your collarbone, inhaling and practically drooling at your scent. âIs this what you wanted to do when we were sparring?â
All he can do is groan. Itâs like heâs growing inside you in response to your words, and itâs so fucking hot. His hands find your thighs again, rubbing and squeezing them, as you adjust to his size for a moment, and he looks up at you. âYou have no idea. Fuckâwe shoulda done this last night," he grunts breathlessly, "Would have put you right to sleep."
You canât even think of anything to say back verbally, rather, you just begin to move, lifting yourself right to the tip, and then slamming back down. He feels you clench around him as his cock reaches that deep part within you at the perfect angle. Positioning himself, he meets you halfway, beginning to thrust up into you.
The sound it elicits from you is lethal.Â
He wonât last long if this continues. The sight of you on top of him, tits bouncingâit's too much.Â
So, when he leans in to kiss you again, he rolls the two of you around, caging you under him. Heâs still inside you, you think, but that thought quickly gets wiped out like the rest of them once he starts moving, stretching you out more and more. Heâs filling you up so well. Your arms fly out, hands searching for something to grab to ground yourself.Â
âYou feel so good, darlinâ,â he pants above you. âSo wet and warm for me.â
His relentless pounding leaves you babbling incoherently. One of his arms move down to your waist, then his fingers begin trailing across your hip, toward your aching pussy, to find your clit, and holy shit.Â
Your mind goes blank.Â
His skin against yours, his thumb rubbing against that spot, his lips on your neck, it does the trick, and you feel yourself teetering closer to the edge. âIâmâIâm gonnaââ you start, but he cuts you off, swallowing you whole.
âDo it,â he says between kisses. âcome for me.â
And you do.Â
With a loud moan, your fingers find the bedsheets, clutching them tightly as you reach your peak, clamping around him.
âFuck,â he hisses, âkeep clenchinâ, keep goinâ â
His thrusts begin to get sloppy, losing his pacing. The hand that was down at your core moves up and squeezes your tits, so large that he can grab both in just the one. He grinds himself deeper into you, and with one last snap of his hips, you feel it.
Logan moans, dipping his head into your cleavage as he releases himself into you fully. Then, he collapses onto you, dropping his whole body weight onto yours.Â
If heâs too heavy for you, you donât say anythingâtoo caught up in the moment to care. His forehead rests on your sternum, breathing slowing as he catches his breath. For a few beats, neither of you speak, but he starts to press sweet, gentle kisses in the valley between your breasts.Â
After a minute, he shifts, lifting his weight off you and sitting up slightly, looking down at you. His hand brushes over your cheek, wiping away some stray strands of hair that have fallen across your face. He gets up from the bed, padding quietly into the bathroom.Â
You hear the sound of water running, and moments later, he returns with a damp towel in hand. Thereâs no hesitation in his movements as he gently begins to clean you up. âDoing alright?â he asks, wiping away the sweat and evidence of your time together.
âYeah,â you reply softly, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips. âIâm good.â
He doesnât say much as he finishes, tossing the towel aside before climbing back into bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms.Â
His chin rests lightly on the top of your head, and then he says, âIâm proud of you.â The words are filled will sincerity. âAnd... Iâm happy youâre stayinâ with us.â
You turn your head, looking up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.
âWell, you showed me you can actually fight without destroying everything in your path,â you tease, raising an eyebrow as you run your hand lightly down his arm. âKeep that up, and I might just stick around forever.â
Logan grins, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges, just how you like it. âThat right?â he murmurs lowly.
He leans in close, pressing a quick kiss to your temple, before adding in a hushed, almost playful tone, âWell, then maybe youâll be mine forever too.â
----
A/N: feedback is greatly appreciated!
#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#wolverine#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut#hugh jackman#logan x reader#x men#logan howlett imagine#deadpool movie#logan howlett fic#james logan howlett#e2l#marvel fanfiction#marvel smut#hugh jackman smut#logan howlett x you
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Hey! Can I request a Clark x reader where they're dating but reader doesn't know Clark is superman. And then superman interacts with them for whatever reason and is flirty bc that's his person!!! But reader is like âïž hey buddy back off. I'm HAPPILY taken
this is such a cute request!!!! Argh!!!!
clark kent/superman x gn!reader. fluff, brief danger but r is okay. superman flirting with you but he's dating you? he's just a goober. i lub him <3 PLEASE feel free to imagine maws!clark. I feel like this is very himcore đ„°
****
Being a florist in Metropolis is good work. Lots of people still buy flowers, which is great. Many actually buy bouquets for Superman and leave them on display as support. Poppies, yellow tulips, and cornflowers. They're one of your favorite arrangements.
The downside to being a florist in Metropolis, however, is that on occasion, your flower display ends up the target of a killer robot.
You're not sure why that is. Mostly, you wish people would stop building killer robots.
You've gone outside to see what the commotion is about when you're grabbed by a metal claw. It squeezes hard, almost cutting off your air. You squirm in terror as the robot stomps down Main Street, crushing cars and asphalt in its wake.
"Help!" you scream when you catch your breath, and the robot squeezes you harder.
A dizzying blur of red, yellow, and blue zips past you. You think of your flowers.
The blur cuts through the metal like nothing. The robot begins to collapse, twitching and groaning. Its metal creaks, grip loosening on your body.
You hardly fall before Superman is there, cradling you to his chest.
"I've got you," he says, tucking you close.
You look up at him, and he beams at you, like saving you from a killer robot has been the best part of his day.
Come to think of it, Superman came to your aid surprisingly fast, even for him.
And he holds you... intimately. Like you've known him for years. Your heart picks up.
"Uh," he says, cheeks flushed. "Areâare you okay?"
You smile politely, arms around his neck. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Superman."
He nods, flying down the street. "Good. I'll get you back to your shop and clean up the flowers."
You tilt your head. "How do you know I'm a florist?"
Superman looks at you, blue eyes wide.
"Oh! I... uh, I've seen your arrangements all over the city. They're beautiful. I'd never forget that they belong to an equally beautiful face."
Goodness. If Superman is this forward with everyone he rescues, it's no wonder your flower arrangements are in high demand.
"I'm flattered," you begin, and Superman once again aims that grin with the power of a thousand suns at you. "But, respectfully, I'm very happily taken, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep this rescue professional."
Superman raises an eyebrow. To your surprise, he smiles wider.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't realize you were taken. My sincerest apologies. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."
"No, it's alright. I'm honored, but you couldn't pull me away from my boyfriend even with your super strength."
Superman's cheeks turn pinker. He sets you down in front of your store with the utmost care, not letting go until you have your bearings. He takes a step back, rubbing his neck. The gesture makes your brain itch. You don't know why.
"Well, uh, he must've done something right if he's lucky enough to be with you."
"Luck has nothing to do with it," you say fiercely. You don't know why you're so indignant about defending Clark's reputation to Superman. It's not like Clark will ever hear about it.
"No?"
"Not at all. He's an incredible person, kind and smart and loving, and if anyone's lucky, it's me."
Superman makes an aborted gesture to take your hand, then redirects and awkwardly pats your arm instead. You squint at him. He quickly moves away.
"Ah. Sorry. Well, I doubt that. I bet you're equally spectacular."
"Oh. Thank you."
You primly take his hand and give it a good shake. Superman bows his head and laughs.
He takes a step back, eyes bright like you've just made his day.
"Well, I wish you the best with your boyfriend. I'm sorry for being so forward. I've seen your Superman bouquets; your reputation precedes you. I make it a point to know reputed people in Metropolis."
"I can't imagine I'm very high on that list," you say.
"Ah, you'd be surprised. Besides, I never forget a face."
Superman darts behind you and moves at neckbreaking speed to clean up your partially maimed flowers. In three seconds, it's returned to its former glory.
"Well, uh, I'll be seeing you," Superman says, hands clasped behind his back. "I mean, I hope not in a circumstance like this! Th-then again, when else would we see each other? Scratch that, I hope there's no reason for us to cross paths because that would mean you're in danger. Uh, but I don't mean that in a bad way! I justâ"
You snort and reach over to take a yellow tulip from your display. You give it to Superman, who takes it like you've just handed him a newborn baby.
"I'm still taken," you say. "But you're very sweet, Superman. Take care, alright?"
"Yeah," he says, tucking the tulip into the strap of his cape. "Yes, you too. Goodbye!"
He soars away, the tulip like a star on his cape.
Superman is handsome and kind, no doubt. But he's certainly no Clark Kent.
#clark kent x reader#superman x reader#superman x you#clark kent x you#clark kent imagine#superman imagine#clark kent fanfiction#superman fanfiction#dc imagine#dc fanfic#dc x you#inbox#blurb
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Brain Damage
Reader x Sebastian Solace
Commission Info
Thank you so much to @o-cinnamonstickz for requesting the hot fish we've both been obsessing over for a hot minute! After a blow to the head, the reader wakes up in none other than the merchant's arms, and he has a few things to check before he'll allow you to continue on. You know, just friendly fish shopkeeper things!
Content Warnings: Injuries. Violence. Mentions of gore.
âââ
Pain draws you out of the darkness you were so sweetly nestled in. A blunt ache furiously pulses in your right temple, demanding attention. A groan slips from you. You weakly writhe and arms tighten around you.Â
A thrum works in your ears, blending into a monotonous buzz before your consciousness begins to splice the noises. A thick stream of water falling in a dull roar. The constant echo of something just beyond the walls and doors, someone screaming or turrets firing. You never did like to focus on those.
A voice springs into your awareness. Lowered into a hiss, it slithers against the edges of your consciousness in a familiar timbre.
âWake up.â Two firm hands shake your shoulders and you whine. âThatâs it, come on. Wake up.â
âLeave me alone,â you mewl. You try to twist away and kick out your feet but a heaviness surrounds you. The sharp pressure points of claws dig into your flesh. You stop at once.
âNot a chance,â the voice chuckles.
The pain persists, and youâre forced to crack open your eyes. A light blue face blurs against the gray facility wallsâthe north side is ripped out completely. A burst pipe sends a waterfall down into the darkness. The ground is cool but youâre propped up on something solid but slick. One arm slips away from you. Three glowing eyes pierce through the haze of your vision.Â
Sebastian?
A few seconds trickle by as your vision focuses on the sharp-tooth grin looming over you. The fluorescent lights are pale, sterile, and cold. Sebastianâs angular fish lure is warm and yellow and soft, dangling above you as his eyes hungrily sweep over your person.Â
You didnât think he ever left his safe room. Of course, he does, but you didnât know heâd leave it for you.
You grunt as another wave of pain taps into your skull. The blunt ache chisels away at your concentration as if someone with a vendetta and a hammer decided to open up your head.Â
âWelcome back.â Sebastian pulls away slightly. He sweeps back his dark hair from his face, and his eyes squint slightly in concentration. In a harsher tone, he commands, âHold still. Stop squirming.â
âIâm not,â you mutter, but your defiance echoes childishly. You wince and aggravate the pain in your skull.
Sebastian smirks. A smugness decorates his inhuman face as he leans closer. A spark of indignation burns through you but it dies as quickly as it flares.Â
Okay, fine. You stop trying to escape from your position, caught against his tail and where he hovers over you. His hands pin down your shoulders. Bulky sensations of packs are tucked behind your shoulders, propping you up in a manner of really, really awful pillows. Slowly, you huff, blowing a piece of hair out of your face.
âThere, now is that so hard?â he purrs condescendingly, eyes impish and superior. âYou should be a lot more grateful for help, friend.â
Sucking in a sharp breath, your eyes narrow into slits sharp enough to form daggers at the merchant who so decidedly has you in his grasp.Â
Through gritted teeth, you ask, âWhat are you doing here?â
His mouth quirks at one corner. You stare as he lifts a hand from your shoulder to brush your hair up your forehead, exposing the side of your face currently engulfed in pain. His large palm settles delicately above your head wound. Your flesh prickles at the slightest graze of his claws over your scalp, triggering a sensitive input of nerves down your neck that nearly causes you to squirm again.
âI was going to scavenge a few things off of your corpse. Lucky for you, youâre not dead.â His glowing eyes hold your gaze. âWhat happened? I found you unconscious on the floor.â
âUh, yeah, that,â you draw out slowly.
Sebastian drums his other handâs claws along your shoulder, his expression shifting into displeasure or suspicion. Youâre not certain.
Your attention shifts. Memory ripples with waves of pain, but you drag a hand through your murky recollection.Â
You were walking through a dark room. There were two doors, each with glowing number signs. One held a slight static, but it was closer. You didnât think anything of itâthe facility is compromised in every way, so why not the screens as well? But that was your mistake.
âIt was a fake door,â you sigh deeply. âI didnât know Good People was behind it.â
Sebastianâs stare could pin you to the floor like a bug and write your classification as âstupid.â To your dismay, you canât rebuttal him.
âYou didnât check to hear if there was growling or breathing?â His voice is so sharp and abysmal with judgment, you flinch. The thick, corded muscles of his tail tense around you.Â
âI⊠IâŠâ you murmur, a heat filling your cheekbones, but you're stalling. Did you check?
It was a blur. You shoved the door open only to freeze at the sight of a red mass of viscera. It moved. A smiling white mask snapped in your direction and three large claws on the end of its three-fingered hand struck, knocking you off your feet and backwards. Your temple hit the ground with a solid whack that reverberated within you.
Darkness rushed into your vision. You remember the slam of the door, the inhuman growl, and then the slight smell of fish.
Sebastianâs hands flex along you. He lowers himself closer, face to face. You try to lean away but his thick serpentine body prevents you from regaining any more precious space.
âWhat do you remember?â His glowing gaze flashes from one eye to the other, peering into them so deeply, you fear what heâll find. âDo you have trouble recalling anything else? Concentrate on me.âÂ
âWhat? No,â you stubbornly shake your head but his palm grips your skull and holds you still. You only achieve a strain on your neck. âWhy are you looking at me like that?â
âWhatâs my name?â he asks firmly. His anglerfish lure slips into view, dusting your face in its soft yellow glow. You squint against its proximity.Â
You growl under your breath. âSebastian. Are you happy now?â
He nods. âYes, thatâs my name.â But thereâs no joy spilling over his expression now that youâve uttered what he wanted to hear.
Between the hand gripping your head and the one holding your shoulder, he has you secure like a mouse in the mouth of a cat. You curse as his third arm, slightly smaller than the other two, reaches for your face.
âOpen your eyes wide.â
On a reflex of spite, you nearly close them, but the nature of his questions finally slots into place in your pain-riddled mind.
âOh, please, I donât have a concussion.â You would roll your eyes but youâre a bit preoccupied with how his hand cups the side of your face.
âYou were bleeding and unconscious when I found you,â he retorts. Sebastianâs claws frame the socket of your eye, pressing into your skin to hold your eyelids up. âOpen your eyes wide. Let me watch the dilation and then I can see if all of your complaining is due to true brain damage.â
A seething retort sits behind your teeth but your muscles draw taut under his cool skin and wicked talons only centimeters from your precious vision.Â
Willingly, you allow him to draw his anglerfish lure back and forth in front of you, into your view, and back out. In the time youâre trapped under his diagnostics, you study him in return. His eyes are wide and bright, unnatural for humans but they refract like fish caught in a flash of a camera in the abysmal depths of the sea. His teeth are razor-sharp. Frills stick out between the locks of his hair in place of ears. You feel the slight wiggle of his tail behind you, his flukes flipping in the slightest while in his concentration.Â
âAt least your mind seems mostly intact,â he hums. His hand falls from your face and you blink at last. âSo you just canât remember because you werenât thinking, were you?â
âCan it, tuna fish,â you huff. âI just want to sleep this off and be on my merry way.â
His tail coils slightly tight against your back. You glance down to his shiny scales intercut with belts and straps of pouches from where he stuffs the goods he pillages from around the facility.
âIâm afraid you canât sleep. Not for the time being,â he muses as he draws his claws over your scalp to cradle the back of your head. âUnless youâd like to never wake up again.â
âAnd youâre going to keep me awake?â you breathe, exasperated. âIâm not bleeding anymore andâwait, how did you find me?âÂ
Now you skew you with a look, your brow furrowing with a splash of hurt along your temple. Sebastian shifts in the slightest, caught off guard in a way you havenât seen the saboteur before. His claws curl.
âJust a little tracking device. No big deal.âÂ
Your eyes widen, furious beyond words. You lift your hands to shove him away from you, but he catches your wrists. You try to get to your feet but his strength easily overwhelms your own, and he firmly keeps you pressed against his tail.Â
âYou put a tracking device on me! Of course, you didâIâm not even surprised!â you snarl. âWhere is it?â
âLetâs not worry about that right now,â he grins.Â
You clench your fists. Your hands are so small, balled up above his three-fingered hand shackles. He reminds you how tiny you are underneath him.Â
The tracking device has to be on your air canisters. You would have felt it on your clothes.Â
âWhy did you put a tracker on me?â you demand, almost thrashing while pain pulses in your temple. You feel rabid like you want to bite him. Could you? Probably, but you have a gut feeling heâd throw you over the ledge if you did.
His grin remains unchanging despite the slight twitch at the end of his tail. âLike I said, I was going to scavenge a few things off of your corpse.â
A bonfire ignites within you. You can hardly snap your teeth as heat fills your mouth.
âIâm going to smoke you and dip you in tartar sauce.â You test his grip but he holds firm, and you remain trapped. âLet me go!â
âIf you want to take a nap and never wake up, be my guest,â he hisses, the sound curling in your eardrums and sending a shudder through your body. He presses closer, each sharp tooth in his maw on full display. âBut if you donât want to pay the ferryman, I suggest letting me help you, friend.â
You hold his unyielding gaze, licks of furious flames still eating away at your ribs. Thereâs logic in his argument. Though youâre not so sure why heâs offering to help you without a price tag attached. Heâs helped you, yes, allowed you to buy some of his scavenged goods, and told you to be careful, but this seems to be more than a merchantâs role. Can you refuse his offer? You may very well be concussed. And if you die, do you want to spare a coin for the ferryman?
Slowly, you breathe out.
âFine,â you jerk your chin at his hands still engulfing your arms. âGive me back my hands. Iâm not going anywhere.â
âI thought so,â his smugness is not much better than a fire poker stirring up your rage. A chuckle rolls out of his mouth.Â
His large hands unfurl, releasing you, and you cross your arms over your chest with a scoff. You smell the slight scent of salt-like sweat and the musk of fish. You wonder how long his essence will stick to your skin. Sebastian settles back onto his tail, still close to hovering over you, but no longer bursting your bubble with his three hands.
You froth with rage. Sitting in the crook of his tail, propped up, almost child-like in your pouting, you search for barbs with which to spur Sebastian, and you do not come up empty-handed.
âI used most of the stuff I bought off of you,â you announce, baring your teeth in something that could be a smile were it not for the internal fire youâre still fueling. âYou would have gone to a lot of trouble just for a broken flashlight and one flash beaconâoh, wait. I forgot. You love flash beacons, donât you?â
His scowl could curdle your blood, but he shifts, jostling you slightly and causing the wound in your temple to pound. You lift a hand to it, cursing under your breath. Growling low under his breath, he leans forward and sweeps a few locks of your hair back to study where you hit your head against the floor. You hold still at his touch.
âAt least Iâm not the idiot who chose the door that had the Good People behind it.â He hisses quietly under his breath, mumbling something more; most likely more insults while he studies your wound. âKeep talking. Weâre going to be here a while and I will keep you awake.â
Your arms slowly loosen from around you. Sebastian reclines, resting his face in his hand as he remains draped around you, a coil of safety against the dangers and unknowns of the facility.
âYouâre enjoying this too much,â you mutter, but give a nod of agreement.
#naff's writing commissions#sebastian solace x reader#come get your hot fish#he's obnoxious and smug hehe#naff writing
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ââPaper starsââ Chris sturniolo.
in which... your boyfriend chris finds out you've got a praise kink.
warnings: none, suggestive at the end!!
âhi lol, this is based on this meme chris reposted on instagram storiesâ
â ... you think is weird? â i ask in fear of freaking out my boyfriend chris, we haven't been dating for too long, we've been together for 3 weeks but we've been friends for about a year and a half, we haven't done anything beyond making out and now we are playing a game of questions, his question being if i have something i haven't told him yet.
â that you have a praise kink? no, i don't think it's weird, why would i? â he says looking at me with an expression i can't quite read.
â I don't know you're looking at me funny â i say honestly, chris is a really expressive guy and i can tell almost every time how he feels just by looking at his face but now he looks like he is deep in thought.
â it's your turn now, dude â
â oh yeah, what is something YOU haven't told me yet? â i question pointing at chris and a little louder when I say âyouâ tilting my head when i see the same boy scratching his neck bringing his eyes at the ceiling looking like he's searching for an answer.
â ... i also have a praise kink â he says bringing his face to the side almost like trying to hide it.
â ... you do? â you question, you always thought chris looked like the type of guy to be more into degrading which makes you surprised by his answer.
â yeah, ya seem surprised by that... y'know what? I could show you right now â you didn't know what chris had under his sleeve, he was always full of random ass scenarios that no one would've guessed was on his mind.
i watched as the blue eyed boy got up from his position on the floor and started walking towards his bedside table opening the first drawer and grabbing something from it, i couldn't see what it was until chris turned around facing me... it was a paper full of bright yellow stars.
â what are you implying?... â i said completely confused about what chris was thinking.
â imma start giving ya paper stars for every thing you do good â he replies giggling at himself and the face that i give him after he answers.
â ... i swear you're not real, you are a complete idiot â i say as chris begins laughing non stop at his stupid joke making me start laughing with him, repeatedly hitting the floor with my fist while chris has to support himself with his bed to not fall to the ground in tears by how much he's laughing.
â oh my god... that was funny... okay â i say as i try to catch my breath.
â HELL YEAH, as soon as you confessed that I was thinking about doing it â chris says making me feel more calm knowing that it wasn't that he thought i was weird and that he was just trying to think something funny to say.
we start to get quiet and before i can say anything chris slowly gets on top of me beginning to caress the left side of my face with one of his hands while the other one holds my waist.
â seriously tho, i could start doing it... but you'll have to be a good girl, yeah? â he says giving me a smirk and sleepy eyes making my cheeks get the reddest they've ever been while i mumble something unable to get words out because of how flustered i got.
â cat got ya tongue kid? â
WHAT DO WE THINK? this is my first time ever posting a fanfic on tumblr and i actually don't love this but I really hope y'all do!!
#chrissturniolo#sturniolotriplets#mattsturniolo#nicksturniolo#sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo imagine#sturniolo fanfic#christopher owen sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matthew bernard sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo
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à±šà§ Ë àŁȘâč BLAME IT ON THE BLACK STAR â hayakawa aki
summary . . . maybe akiâs in the wrong for all the mixed signals he sends you, but itâs your fault for always picking up the phone.
contents . . . f!reader, angst, complicated relationships, smoking, miscommunication, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, ambiguous ending, hurt/comfort i suppose â 5.6k
notes . . . this is my first time writing for aki so pls be nice iâm nervous hdjwjwk <33 iâm not all the way caught up w csm so it might be inaccurate idk
Aki calls you, sometimes, when heâs feeling lonely. You figure, by now, he must have your number memorized, with how frequently your phone ends up ringing.Â
Of course, you always pick up, knowing you shouldnât, knowing itâll just end up hurting. But you canât help yourself, really. Youâre incredibly weak for a man that you know will never commit his life to you. You learned that lesson a long time ago.Â
Still, youâre a fool who refuses to move on.Â
Instead, you stand, shivering in the cold in front of Akiâs door, waiting for him to answer it. The lights are off in the apartment â you have no idea where his new roommates are for the evening, but they clearly arenât there. Aki wouldnât have called you otherwise; youâre certain he doesnât want anyone to know about the two of you, save for those that have known since the beginning. Â
Heavy footsteps pad across the floor, and then the lamp in the hallway flicks on, illuminating the threshold in a beam of yellow. The door unlatches, opening just a crack, as his blue eyes drift down to trail over you.Â
âYou got here faster than I thought.âÂ
âIâm freezing, Aki,â you say, pushing through the door. His palm falls away, rests at his sides. Its only eight oâclock, but heâs already in sweatpants, a loose sweatshirt hanging over his tall frame. Dark hair falls across his cheeks, still damp from his earlier shower.Â
âSorry,â he says, shutting the door behind him. âI was in the bathroom.âÂ
You donât reply, and shrug your coat off instead, hanging it on the rack that is now full of jackets that donât belong to him. But youâre barely able to get it onto the hook before Aki has a palm around your wrist, tugging you towards him, the smell of his body wash and shampoo lingering in a cloud around him.Â
A little welp of surprise leaves you as you spin around, nearly falling into his chest. Instead, you collide with his mouth, the heat already settling down on you as heavily as it always does when Aki is around.
He kisses you, long and hard, hungry for the taste of you, his head craned down to meet your height. For a moment, you let him. Itâs sweet and familiar, all the things youâve ever wanted.
In moments like these, you indulge in thoughts of a life where things are different. A life where Aki can greet you at the door, smile when you kiss him, instead of the pensive expression he always wears. A life where Aki doesnât come home with new scars every few days, where he isnât hell-bent on a goal youâre not sure he can ever achieve.
That dream of yours wonât ever become a reality, but it doesnât stop you from savoring the taste of his mouth against your own â how much youâve missed it, even when you shouldnât.Â
When youâve run out of air to breathe, you push him away, and Aki stands straight, blinking like he doesnât know what heâs done wrong.Â
âNot even going to offer to make me dinner?â you ask, keeping him at a distance. Although you meant for it to sound playful, teasing, it comes off full of a bitter resentment. Your face is probably drawn up into a scowl, even if you canât see it.
Aki blinks, rubbing his forearm. His lips part, then he shuts them, furrowing his eyebrows together. âYou said you were cooking â over the phone, you said youâd already eaten.âÂ
âWell, at least you remember that.âÂ
Confusion spreads even further, tighter, stretching to every corner of his expression. Akiâs hands twitch listlessly at his side, just as his mouth does. âAre you upset with me?â he asks, and you know heâs smarter than that, that he might not be the most sensitive to othersâ emotions, but he is certainly no fool when it comes to yours. âIf you didnât want to come over tonight, I wasnât forcing you.âÂ
A laugh almost escapes you â instead, you muster up a cool grimace. Like you arenât going drop everything for Aki every time he says I donât want to be alone tonight.Â
Really, it was laughable how tightly he had you in the palm of his hand, and you canât fathom that he would think otherwise. Youâve always done whatever he needed; given him whatever he wanted.Â
âWhy didnât you tell me you were in the hospital?â you ask finally, swallowing back your annoyance as you gesture towards the bandage around his arm. Itâs wrapped up tight, but the bandages are fresh, still a starched white.Â
His eyebrows tighten further. The air around him changes, even though his expression doesnât. âWho told you about that?âÂ
âHimeno.âÂ
Aki purses his lips. âI didnât realize you two were friends now.âÂ
You did laugh then, shaking your head as you make your way into the living room, looking for any subtle changes in his apartment. There are new pairs of shoes that certainly donât belong to him, a sweatshirt that looks about two sizes too small.Â
âI wouldnât really say weâre friends,â you shrug, not bothering to look at him. The air in the room is somehow off-putting, and you take it in like itâs the first youâd ever seen of the place. âBut how else am I supposed to find out if youâre still alive?âÂ
You give him a sad little smile, and slowly, the irritation seeps out of his face, his shoulders slumping. He looks tired, then â far too old for a man that is still so young.Â
âIt wasnât that serious. Iâm fine now, arenât I?â Aki gestures to his arm, flails it wildly, as if to prove itâs still working properly. âJust a scratch.â
âIt is serious. Itâs serious to me,â you say, narrowing your eyes, and though his tone is warmer, he doesnât smile at you, not like he used to. He maintains a vague air of surprise, while dampening any emotion that could cloud over his lack of understanding. It annoys you to no end, that he wonât let you see him.âIâm always worried about you, idiot. Donât act like you donât know how I feel about you.âÂ
Aki blinks, then draws his lips together in a thin line, shaking his head. Although you were pointedly avoiding each otherâs gazes, you could feel the tension drawing you together like a cord.Â
God, you missed him every time you were apart. You went to your regular job, thought all day about the man who would never love you like you loved him, wondering if he was okay, if heâd pick up the phone and call you again next week. Or if, one day, it would be Himeno instead, telling you that youâd never see him again â or, god forbid, Makima, with her careless tone of authority. That thought alone haunts you even with your eyes open.
But for now, itâs still Aki who calls you, and every time, you are overwhelming relieved to hear the sound of his voice again. Heavy tears always drop down your cheeks as you dig the phone into your ear, wishing that it was his mouth there instead, and wishing that those pretty blue eyes still looked at you with the same sort of softness they once had.Â
âI told youâŠâ Aki begins sharply, but then he trails off, finally meeting your gaze. His features pinch once more, melodramatic, as he scans the sadness that you could never hide in your expression. âDamn it.â Car lights flash over his face through the window as someone drives past the apartment complex. The darkness of the room becomes even more evident when they disappear.
âI know,â you say, resigned, as you watch him scrub his hands over his face, and inhale heavily. Itâs hard for you to keep your emotions from getting the best of you. âYouâve reminded me â many times. I know this doesnât mean weâre back together. I know, Aki.â
His jaw parts, lips faltering at the beginning of a phrase. Despite his tall frame, he falters, looking so small, as sadness filters into the eyes that shine a deep navy in the shade of the evening. Beside him his fingers twitch, curling up into his palm, before he takes two long strides towards you.Â
The mere second it takes him to get there passes without your memory, and your back hits the door to his bedroom, softly, as he looms over you, fingers brushing your cheeks.Â
A thousand times youâve been in this position, and itâs so familiar that your hand reaches up instinctively, splaying across his chest. Akiâs breaths leave him, deeply, expanding through his lungs before he exhales them across your cheekbones, oxygen splitting at the bridge of your nose. âWhatâs wrong?â you ask quietly, blinking up at him from under your lashes.Â
âThatâs not what I meant.â His voice comes out on a hoarse whisper.
âHm?â You dig your fingers into his sweatshirt, the material thick and warm. âWhat did you mean?âÂ
Tenderly, his thumb brushes across the hollows of your cheek, the sharp bone that juts out. Akiâs fingertips are so rough and calloused, but that familiarity brings a sob out of you, your hands springing up to grab his wrists. âThat Iâm not fooling anyone,â Aki says, swallowing, eyes roaming all over your face. âThat I canât stay away from you, no matter how hard I try.â
Your lips part, but your breath is stolen away by another kiss, blanketing your mouth, warm and with an emotion that youâre certain you can taste. It takes you less than a moment for you to close your eyes, to relax into him as always, melt into his familiarity. The taste of the cigarettes he smokes lingers on his tongue, seeping deep into your own lungs.Â
As he bumps his nose with your own, you reach up, run your fingers through his hair, untangling all the knots that have accumulated since his shower. At the same time, Aki palms at the door behind you, not bothering to look up as he fumbles for the door handle, slipping it open.
Aki always kisses you like itâs the last time heâll ever do it, struggling to unglue you from himself. He kisses you like he knows heâs going to leave again, and it might be for the very last time.Â
Itâs a sickening emotion to live with, but youâve accepted it all the same.Â
You ignore the feelings that never leave you alone when youâre with Aki, and stumble backwards into the room, feet catching under you. Although you nearly fall, Aki catches you, arms heavy around your waist, large palm spreading across your lower back.Â
âYouâre so pretty,â he says, nearly carrying you to his bed. The two of you latch so tightly onto the other, that you will surely go tumbling down if either of you makes the wrong move. âIâve never met anyone as pretty as you.âÂ
âAki,â you mumble, shaking your head. âI donât want to hear that.âÂ
He stumbles, and you do fall onto the bed, then, his heavy body on top of you, landing with a thud. But heâs careful to catch himself, to tuck his arms into the space beside you, as he kisses across your cheeks, down your neck, to your chest.Â
âWhy?â he asks into your skin, voice low and rough. âYou donât think youâre pretty?â his tone is dry, sarcastic. Akiâs fingers fumble with the zipper on your jeans, slipping your pants off faster than you can inhale a fresh set of air into your lungs. âWant me to prove it to you?â
Despite your lingering resentment, you crack a smile, shift your hips so he can pull your bottoms off completely. âArenât you afraid youâll fall in love with me again?â you say off-handedly, running your hands along the edge of his shirt, before slipping cold fingers under it. His skin is hot there, abdomen soft, muscle just as lean as it was last week, but stronger than when youâd first met him.Â
Akiâs eyes soften. âWhy would I be afraid of a thing like that?âÂ
You donât like the double meaning in his words, and you donât want to read into it. Instead, you pull Aki back down to your mouth, hoping heâll take and take from you, even though heâs always one to give. The one who calls you, who needs to be inside of you, but wonât worry about himself until youâve come apart at least once.Â
âFeels like itâs been a while since Iâve seen you,â he says, pushing your thighs further apart, muttering the words against your lips. His fingers graze the outside of your panties, as you slowly begin to wet them with desire that burns hot in your stomach. âI missed you.âÂ
You feel his smile curl as he kisses across your chest, around your collarbones, and you sit up far enough to slide your shirt off. Aki does the same â there are fresh scars on his body, healing wounds. You canât look at them for too long, before grief rises up in you, mourning a man that is not yet dead.Â
âWhose fault is that?â you ask bitterly, pushing the top of his head to sink him to your thighs. Instead, he takes his time pressing his mouth around your belly, swirling his tongue just past your hips.Â
A sigh leaves you, and you sink deeper into the mattress, eyes blinking closed. Heâs so slow, so deliberate with every movement, like heâs been waiting all of this time just to lose himself in you. Ridiculous, really, considering that he could have you at anytime, and he knows it.Â
Youâd hate him for it, for stringing you along like this, but that would be hypocritical, really. Youâre the fool that continues to play the game.Â
Aki ignores your passing comment, squeezing your thighs as his face drifts down your body. His hair brushes against your bare skin, still a bit damp, but so soft, the scent of his soap so familiar you could pick out the shampoo with your eyes closed.Â
âWant my fingers or my mouth first?â Aki whispers into the inside of your thigh, kissing the delicate skin there as he looks up at you from under thick, black lashes. They flutter over his cheekbones, the hollows of his eyes, and heâs so pretty⊠itâs no wonder youâre so far gone for him. âSince youâre in such a mood tonight, Iâll let you choose.âÂ
Thereâs a tiny smirk on his face, and even though youâre about to answer, Aki takes it upon himself to kiss your cunt through your panties, the fabric sticking to your skin.Â
âA-aki,â you stutter, caught off-guard, fingers lacing through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. âYou didnât give me a chance to answer.âÂ
He drags his tongue up your clothed cunt, wetting it even further, so you canât tell if youâre soaked from his spit or your own arousal. âI picked instead. Like the way you moan when my mouthâs on you,â he says off-handedly, and heat rushes to your cheeks as you stare at the ceiling, still so shy when it comes to his dirty mouth. âNo oneâs here,â Aki continues, words vibrating against the bone, puffs of air drifting around your sensitive area. âWant you to be loud.âÂ
A tiny laugh escapes you, but it is quickly stolen by a whimper as he sucks your clit into his mouth through the cotton of your underwear, an old pair that was anything but sexy. Although, youâve known Aki for so long, been with him for so long, thereâs never any reason to try and impress him.Â
âFeels good,â you say, closing your eyes as you rest on the pillow. Aki pushes his tongue against your hole, teasing. His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs, keeping them from locking around his head as you search for more friction. Your chest rises and falls with the heat of your breathing, but Aki doesnât let you rub yourself against his tongue, doesnât let you move much, really. âAki,â you whine, and though there are times when he doesnât let you get your way, this isnât one of them.
âSo impatient,â he says cheekily, but he slips your panties to the side, your cunt vulnerable to the frigid winter air. You shiver, and he sinks his tongue into you completely, the heat of it warming you as he swirls it inside, spreading you further open with his fingers.Â
Your body grows hot all over when Aki thrusts his tongue in and out of your aching walls, your juices seeping onto his tongue. He moves slowly, savoring every moment that youâre in his bed, even as you try to arch into him, speed him up so that you can orgasm faster. Heâs right: you are impatient, because itâs been days since youâve last felt him inside of you, and nothing feels as good as Akiâs thick fingers and cock.Â
His nose bumps your clit as he drags his tongue in a thick stripe up your cunt. A moan leaves you, and without thinking, you jerk your hips up, forcing them towards his face. The sound from your chest is so lewd, and youâll feel shy about how loud you were later, but all you can think about is his mouth on you.Â
Aki smiles, kisses the inside of your thigh. When he lifts his head, the ache inside you burns deeper, the sight of him with saliva and fluid dripping down his chin almost too much for you to handle. âTaste so good,â he hums, massaging the skin around your knees, hoisting your calves up over his shoulder blades. âThink you can cum from just my tongue, baby? Youâre so pent up, I donât think you can last much longer.âÂ
You whimper, pressing your heels into his back as Akiâs tongue resumes lapping up your cunt, long and hot, massaging the most sensitive spots inside of you. You can tell heâs hard, aching as he shifts his hips awkwardly, trying not to press them in the bed.Â
Aki picks up his speed, head bobbing slightly as the heat insides of you builds; normally, you wouldâve lasted longer, but you canât remember the last time youâve even touched yourself, and your most recent orgasm must have been with Aki.Â
You donât tell him when youâre close, but he already knows, sucking harder on your clit as you finally come, body jerking into him, walls spasming. Your eyes squeeze shut, and his name leaves your lips much quieter than he wouldâve liked.Â
âYouâre so fucking hot,â Aki says, tugging off his sweatpants, the only layer between you and his cock. His dark hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, the way youâd pulled at him, tried to guide him where you wanted him, even if he already knew. âSo easy for you to get me hard, you know that?â His cock is leaking at the tip, desperate for release, and you havenât even touched him yet. âJust the thought of you spread out like this is enough.âÂ
A desperate whine leaves you, and you reach behind, unclasping the straps of your bra, the last remaining garment between you and Aki. He grins at that, his canines so sharp, teeth a little crooked, but the prettiest smile youâd ever seen because you see it so rarely.Â
âGonna play with those pretty tits while I fuck you, baby?âÂ
âFuck, Aki, please,â you groan, reaching for him, pulling his mouth to your own. You kiss him hard, hoping that he knows you love him, and hoping that he feels guilty about that fact. âWant you inside me. God, I need you so bad.âÂ
He presses his forehead to your own, lining his cock up with your entrance, the head prodding at your gaping walls. You get so sensitive, even from just one orgasm, that you wince a little bit. But the uncomfortable feeling eases as he presses into you, kisses you sweetly.
âFuck, fuck,â Aki groans, biting down hard on your shoulder. âGod, youâre so wet, so warm. You feel so good around my cock, baby. Such a pretty girl for me.âÂ
Your nails dig into his back as he slides, slowly, out of you, before he thrusts back in, still not rough enough for your liking. Akiâs hair falls around his face, his mouth parting just a bit, focus dilating his irises. His biceps flex as he holds himself off the bed, snapping his hips into your aching cunt.Â
âH-harder,â you mumble, trying not to shout, to moan too loudly into the open air of the evening. Akiâs walls are far too thin, and his neighbors know who you are. The last thing you want is for them to see you as Akiâs fuck-buddy that moans like a bitch in heat. âPlease, sweetheart.âÂ
Aki groans, a deep sound that reverberates all the way from his chest down to his stomach. The affectionate name twists something up in him, and Aki thrusts his hips faster, kisses your forehead, your cheeks, any part of your skin that he can get his mouth on. His hair tickles your jaw, nose nudging against your face as he mumbles into your skin, âso needy, arenât you? I want to take my time with you, and you just want to get off.âÂ
âCanât help it, Aki,â you say, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you buck your hips upward. âGod, you feel so good, I loââ
You stop the words from leaving your mouth, but Aki already knows. Heâs known it for a while now, and you should be embarrassed by the fact that you canât let him go.Â
Wide blue eyes stare back at you, full of something you canât define, but still so soft as he pulls away. He draws you closer, slides your legs around his hips before pinning your own to the bed with large, heavy palms. Akiâs built with all lean muscle, and heâs so tall â so much taller than you that itâs easy to forget because he treats you so gently. Still, he blankets your body, makes you feel small in the nicest way.Â
Because you know that even though he can never commit his love to you, heâd never let anything â human or devil â lay a finger on you. You love him, you love him, you love him.
Aki follows your wishes, sinks faster inside of you as you exhale heavily. Your nails dig into his back so tightly that you start to worry youâll break the skin. But Aki loses himself in the feeling of you, panting into your chest as he moves his hips.Â
âF-fuck,â he mutters, eyes fluttering shut. âIâm not going to last long inside you like this. Maybe I should slow downââ
âNo, no, Iâm close,â you stumble over your words, meeting Akiâs intense eyes, a thousand emotions relayed in them as he blinks at you. âItâs okay.â
âGod,â he mutters, whispers the word between you, even though youâre certain he hasnât believed in him for a while, and youâre not sure you do either. âI donât deserve you.âÂ
You wonder if Aki meant to say that at all, so you let it go, let the words exist between you as if they were never there at all.Â
His palm guides itâs way across your stomach, the touch featherlight, before he reaches for your breast, thumb flicking across your nipple. The nail catches, and you moan, almost there once more. Akiâs cock hitting all the right places, so much better than your own fingers.
âAki,â you say his name over and over, your mind going numb from thinking about him.Â
âI know,â Aki mutters against your lips, hot air ghosting across them on his exhale. âYouâre okay. Let go for me, baby. Did so good for me, want you to cum on my cock.âÂ
His voice, so deep and rough in your ears, sends you over the edge, and a sound forces its way up your throat as you clench down on him, your cunt spasming from your orgasm. It hits you harder than youâd been anticipating, legs squeezing around Akiâs hips as you dig your toes into the mattress.Â
âThere we go,â Aki wipes your hair away from your face, kissing your temples, so gently that you think you might cry. Itâs not fair for him to be so sweet, so loving when you know heâs going to kick you out of his apartment before the night is over. âMy pretty girl. Shit,â Aki mumbles, cursing lowly before pulling out of you, quick, and spilling into his palm. It takes him less than a stroke down the length of his cock, the thick cum spurting out, falling onto your hips, beside you on the mattress.Â
Itâs not your mess to clean, though, and you canât bring yourself to care. Breathing heavily, you watch Aki fumble for something on his nightstand, before he gives up, wiping his wet hand on the already soiled bedsheets. Then, he collapses down onto his side, staring, watching your chest rise and fall.Â
âAki,â you say, turning away from his eyes to stare at the ceiling, the cracked plaster, stained from water leaks. âI canât do this anymore.âÂ
Silence falls across the room, and you canât bear to look at him, refusing to see the indifference on his face. Thereâs nothing, he says nothing, before sitting back up, shuffling through the nightstand once more.Â
The beams of streetlights sway against his silhouette, encased in a beautiful swirl of purple and navy hues. His hair seems an even darker curtain, coiling around his jaw as he hides from you, hides the emotion that was less than evident on his face.Â
You sigh, and flip back on your side.Â
Aki takes a few drags of the cigarette, puffing them into the stale air. It reeks, probably, in the tiny bedroom, but all you can smell is the tangy scent of Akiâs soap, the lavender that lingers on his skin, the cleanness of the linens that have been recently washed. This apartment, sometimes, feels more like home than your lonely one does, even though being with Aki is almost like being on your own, sometimes.Â
âThose things are going to kill you,â you say under your breath, still fascinated by the way the smoke draws deep into his lungs, puffs out in a cloud, relaxes him easily. His veiny palms flex, long, slender fingers holding the cigarette between them.Â
Aki doesnât laugh, but itâs close to one, a snort almost, as he breathes again. âNot like Iâll be alive much longer, anyway.âÂ
âYou sound like Himeno.âÂ
âDo I?âÂ
You sniff, and scoot up against the wall, sitting beside him. Despite your argument, you take the cigarette from him, smoke it yourself, and place your lips around the exact place where Akiâs had been. He watches with the same rapt fascination, blinking slowly, before staring at the ceiling as you had before.Â
Itâs Himeno he should be with now, really. Another Devil Hunter. A woman he can fuck without getting his feelings all mixed up, someone who probably understands him better than you do. Heâs never loved her like he loved you, and she wouldnât take offense to it either, you think.Â
But itâs you he calls instead. Itâs you who is too weak to leave.
âIâm sorry,â Aki whispers.
âSo am I.âÂ
You reach across him, press the cigarette into the ashtray and drop whatâs left of it amongst the other ends. Akiâs fingertips dance along your spine as you do so, and you wish he wouldnât touch you, wish heâd just kick you out of the bed, toss you out of the apartment, spit at you like you werenât anything but a whore.Â
Instead, he kisses your shoulder, draws you in close, curls his tall frame around your body, and drags you back down into the bed.Â
It hurts more than you want to admit, because this is what you want. Youâd truly go the rest of your life, never have sex with him again, if heâd always hold you like you meant something to him.Â
âI need to go home,â you say, remembering that you still havenât eaten dinner, that youâd left your things in disarray, your clothes unfolded on your bed. There was never a reason to before, because with Aki, youâd always go home, just before the last train. Youâd be tucked into your bed that same evening after a nice shower. âAkiâŠâÂ
âStay.â He kisses your collarbone and shoulder again, throws his thigh over your own, and traps you against his body. âPlease stay. You can wear that T-shirt of mine you like so much. Iâll make you breakfast. You can meet Power and Denji, and then Iâll take you home tomorrow morning.âÂ
You swallow, damning your weak-willed heart for succumbing so easily. Fingers curl around his wrists as you bask in his embrace, how warm he is, despite normally running so cold. âAki,â you whisper again, tears welling along your eyelashes. âYou canât do this to me. Please donât do this to me.âÂ
âDo what?â His voice is just as quiet as your own, and heâs still kissing you, holding you like youâre something precious. But he is surely not that stupid about your feelings, to how he has been tearing you apart for the past year, even though you let him.Â
You sniff, trying not to cry, never wanting to embarrass yourself, even if you have sobbed in his arms on numerous occasions. âYou must know that I love you. Iâll never stop loving you. Even if I marry someone after you die, Iâm certain your name will still be etched into the chains on my heart. Iâm just a stupid, dumb girl.âÂ
He says nothing, and you do cry, then, tears streaming down your face as you twist away, stare out the curtained window, the thin fabric fluttering from the heat that kicks on.Â
âPlease donât call me anymore. Just let me hurt for awhile, so I can get over you. Youâre so selfish, so selfish, why canât I just move on?â You bury your face in your hands, wipe your tears, try to fight against him as he pulls you into his strong chest, kisses the top of your head. Still, even then, even when you want to hate him, youâre putty in his heads, melting and craving the place in his arms that feels like home.Â
âI canât let you go,â Aki says, wiping your tears. âFuck, I canât â I need you. Do you understand? I need you, and I know Iâm a selfish piece of shit, but I donât want you to move on.â He frowns, clenching his jaw, twisting his expression up. âIâll be better.âÂ
âAkiââ
âIâll love you like you need, honey. I thought,â Aki scrubs his palm over his face, the other still stroking across your back. âI thought itâd make it easier, all this distance between us, to let you go. I canât put you in danger, but I canât stop loving you either.âÂ
You inhale sharply, leaning your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, committing the harmony to your memory. Who knows how much longer it will be in there, how much longer Aki will allow it to exist before he destroys himself completely.Â
âAki, youâll never love me like I need, because youâll always put your work first,â you say, squeezing your eyes shut. âI realized that a long time ago.âÂ
He shifts, pushing you away so you could look each other in the eye, the astounding resoluteness in his irises. How serious he was about trying to be someone he was not. âI can try.âÂ
You sob.
And you wish you could just say no; say no and walk away, forget his name, never answer the phone again, never call Himeno to check up and make sure heâs still breathing.Â
But you canât â itâll never be that easy.Â
Pushing him away, you rest your head back on the pillow, trying to make yourself comfortable as you turn your back to him. Perhaps, the morning will give you clarity. Youâll stay, but youâre not sure for how long.Â
âIâm tired.âÂ
Aki curls against you, rests his arm around your hip, kisses your neck, cheek, temple. âOkay,â he relents, holding you close, chest pressed against your spine. âI meant what I said about breakfast. Maybe we can talk about it then?âÂ
You want to say no, but you wonât. Heâll kiss you in the morning, and youâll kiss him back. Settle on your knees and give him a blowjob while heâs still groggy, before slipping on his T-shirt, chattering off his ear as he makes you breakfast. Youâll probably even curl your arms around his stomach from behind, stand on you tiptoes to reach the space between his shoulder blades.Â
Power and Denji will come home at some point, and probably say something rude, as Aki says they do to everyone. Then youâll go home, and youâll still be in love with him, and Aki will forget the conversation even happened, because heâll say anything to get you to stay.Â
Or, maybe, heâs being honest. Maybe he will love you like you want him to.Â
Less than likely.
âOkay, Aki,â you agree, too tired to argue or acknowledge the emptiness in your stomach. âWeâll talk about it in then.â
reblogs appreciated!! thank you for reading!
#csm x reader#aki hayakawa x reader#aki x fem!reader#aki hayakawa x you#aki x y/n#aki smut#aki hayakawa smut#nanami x reader#hayakawa aki x reader#hayakawa aki x y/n#hayakawa aki x you#aki x you#csm x y/n#csm smut#chainshaw man smut#csm x you#csm x fem!reader#chainsaw man x reader#chainsaw man x you#xoxo rylie đ à§â ËïœĄâ#aki angst#aki hayakawa angst#csm imagines#xoxo rylie đ â ËïœĄâ
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Celestial Bodies AU (maybe part 1/?)
(Part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7.)
Superman flew through space, eying the new galaxy that he and Batman had discovered the night before.
âSo? What does it look like?â Batman asked him through the communications.
âWellâŠâ Superman looked around. âItâs definitely weird. It has an enormous cluster of stars, but Iâm not feeling strongerâŠâ
âWhat? Are you saying that the radiation isn't working?"
"The stars here are all white stars or above, but they don't make me feel stronger. Actually... I think I'm feeling weaker too. Something is definitely wrong here."
Batman was quiet for only a moment before he asked, "Are you in any current danger? Can you defend yourself?"
"No, I'm fine. I don't sense any living beings around me. I can defend myself." Superman understood what Batman was trying to say. "Are you asking me to stay and continue observing?"
"If you can."
"Of course. I'll stay and continue investigating."
"Thank you," Batman said softly and Superman smiled at that.
"Don't sweat it! Let me get the receiver."
Superman pulled out the device that allowed him to connect to radio signals from space, and began turning it on. However, the moment it turned to life, the radio began to malfunction, short circuiting and turning into static as it shook itself. Superman nearly tossed it away before suddenly, it was normal again.
And then, the signal began to pick up.
And it began to sing.
Superman stared wide eyed as a symphony of music and singing came through the radio. It was a little choir of humming and barely audible voices, sounding as though they were underwater. Still, it was undeniably beautiful, like something heard from heaven.
"Batman," Superman said, hushed, "are you hearing this?"
"... yes."
"It's amazing! Are these stars making these sounds?" Superman continued flying, observing the blue and yellow stars, each radiating a heat that could not power him. He continued flying, listening to the ethereal song that called for listeners.
He hadn't been paying attention when he felt an ever sensed blistering heat and a force beginning to drag him forward. He turned his head and his eyes widened again before he cursed and flew a little distance away.
"Superman? What is it?"
"Batman, turn on your visuals," he said as he turned on the camera.
There was silence before Superman heard the barely audible click and then a buzz of a camera. The camera was attached to Superman and it would send the views back to Batman, allowing him to see just what Superman was freaking out over. When it turned on, Batman was silent for a moment, clearly as confused as Superman was feeling.
"... tell me what I'm seeing."
"A quasar, a protostar that is possibly becoming a blue star, a neutron star, and a black hole all coexisting right next to each other. As well as several planets all circling them like stars."
Superman watched the scene with a sense of both interest, awe, and horrified confusion.
The scene in front of him just wasn't possible. Not only would a black hole consume everything around it, there was already a quasar nearby doing the same thing with an even stronger force. However, the protostar and neutron star were fine even though they were so close, along with the few planets. The planetary nebula around the neutron star circled around each celestial object in an assembly line, flowing from the neutron star to the black hole to the quasar and then to the protostar. If the nebula wasn't taken by one celestial object, it was passed onto another.
Most of the nebula seemed to be absorbed by the quasar and protostar, but the two of them seemed to coexist in peace. The neutron star continued to spin and the black hole surrendered most of the nebula to its neighbors. The planets also spun peacefully, a few even had rings that were not taken by the quasar or black hole.
It was like only foreign objects, like Superman himself, would be absorbed.
It was fascinating. Like they were alive and knew how to live with one another.
Superman explained it to Batman in detail. Batman was silent before he said, "This shouldn't be possible. How could this occur? Unless there was some sort of external force that is keeping each astronomical object to themselves and prevents them from destroying each other, there's no way this could be a natural occurrence."
"Are you suggesting that this is man-made?"
"How could it be anything but? Aren't you listening to singing right now?"
Superman raised the receiver and the singing on the other side continued without pause, a constant symphony of voices.
"... you could be right. Do you want to try and make contact?"
"Yes. Send back a signal."
Superman pressed a few buttons on the receiver to send a radio message back and in an instant, the singing died down, leaving only a faint crackling and a water-like noise.
Biting the bullet, Superman then spoke into the receiver.
"Hello. My name is Superman, and I come from the Milky Way galaxy. I am a kryptonian from the planet Earth. I wish to peacefully connect with you, whoever you are."
More crackling.
Batman cursed softly in his ear and Superman winced, already feeling that he was too impulsive. However, just as he was about to backtrack and escape from this particular galaxy, there was a whispered, shuddery, "Hello."
Superman blinked and then called out, "H-Hello!"
There was silence again, only that underwater staticky noise coming through.
"Can I take this as you accepting my peace offering?"
"... yes."
The sound that came from the receiver seemed to come from many, all joining together into one.
There was a hitched gasp and then Batman hissed, "Keep talking! Ask them questions! Ask them if they want to make contact with us or if we can form an alliance!"
Superman nodded to himself and spoke into the receiver, "Can you see me?"
"We see you."
Superman paused and then continued in stride, "I'm sorry, but I can't see you. Can you show yourself?"
"In front of you."
There was nothing but the strange collection of celestial objects. Unless there was someone inside? It could be possible, but Superman hadn't detected anyone living around him for awhile now.
"Uh, I'm sorry, butâ"
"In front of you."
Batman then said through the communicator, "Superman, the neutron star!"
The neutron star in front of him then began to spin faster and faster, before lighting up into a pulsar in the very next second.
Superman was stunned at the sight, as the radiation emitting from the neutron star passed over him over and over and over, radiating with a cold burn that resonated through his bones and made his limbs weak. The impossibly quick change from a regular neutron star into a pulsar only made him even more frightened as the radio signals made the receiver scream.
"We are here." The crackling voices said again, all as one.
Superman flew backwards, his breath caught in his throat.
"Superman?! Why did you go backwards?" Batman demanded.
Superman flinched and then he said softly, "Sorry. Instinct."
It was true. The fear that had entered his body had made him instinctively retreat. It was even worse than looking death in the eye. It was like the feeling of knowing the End of All, of knowing that your existence would be wiped out, of knowing that resistance would be futile and that your death wouldn't even be enough to save the ones you loved.
His heart pounded as he flew a little closer, enough to feel the heat from the quasar again and almost reluctantly said into the receiver, "Are you the neutron star?"
"We are all what you see in front of you."
"'We'? Are all of you speaking to me?"
The neutron star pulsed again, spinning just a little faster like before.
"I am the King. And these are my family."
The voice than switched out, a barely noticeable change in the difference because it was all the same voices speaking as one. However, now a different voice was leading.
"Ask your questions, Son of Jor-El. What do you seek?"
Superman's eyes widened. Then after a moment of silence, he said, "I am here to explore the universe and find protection for the planet I live on. Could you help us?"
"We are but objects in the sky. We will only answer questions."
Batman interrupted. "Ask them if they can see the future and if anything will happen to Earth."
Superman explained to the collection of celestial bodies, "This is my colleague and partner, Batman. We work together for Earth's safety."
"We know. He is the best of you."
There was silence from both Superman and Batman. Superman was stunned, but he also couldn't help but smile. "Yes, that is true. Can you see the future? Can you tell us if any dangers will be coming to earth."
Another voice came to life, taking the lead in speaking. "We can. Whatever comes, you and your Justice League can handle it."
Superman could hear Batman breathe a sigh of relief. Superman felt the same and he placed a hand on his heart as he gave a sigh of relief as well. "Thank goodness." Before Batman said anything, Superman asked, "Could you tell us more about yourself? How do you have a consciousness?"
The radio crackled and popped for a little while before the first voice, the one who called themself 'King' spoke up.
"We were like you once. But then I became a legend."
"Like me?" Superman asked.
Batman then said, "Ask them if they were human."
"Were you human?"
More silence.
And thenâ
"Yes."
Superman's eyes widened and he couldn't help but gasp in shock, a hand flying to his mouth as he stared at the celestial bodies in front of him, all of which used to be human. These enormous objects that used to be human, now forced to succumb to emptiness and spin in space without pause.
"Are... are you okay? We have magic users in our team, maybe we can offer you help?" Superman asked.
Batman hissed in the comms, "Superman! We don't even know them!"
The receiver crackled some more and the voice changed again. The sound of them being underwater seemed louder than ever.
"We are fine, Son of Jor-El. We are happy."
The person speaking switched to someone new.
"Ask your questions and then leave." The receiver quieted again. And then they spoke, "My little sister needs her rest for her rebirth."
Superman's eyes flicked over to the protostar, which was still absorbing most of the nebula. The only thing that could have possibly been 'reborn' was the protostar, as it needed to heat itself to start the transition to become a main sequence star. Was that one the little sister?
"Just two more questions, if that's alright." He could hear Batman's deep, frustrated sigh. He probably had more questions but was frustrated by Superman's curtesy and his lack of scientific curiosity. Superman knew he was annoyed but he felt an odd camaraderie with the celestial objects. He didn't want to anger them if necessary.
"Speak."
"How old are you? And will you help us again in the future?"
The receiver crackled.
The voice changed once more. "We are all far, far, far older than you imagine. Time does not work for us like other stars."
The speaker switched again. "But in human years, we have not reached our adult ages yet."
The honest confession made Superman's eyes widen, especially as he realized what they meant.
A bunch of children had turned into stars and black holes before they were even adults?
Superman was suddenly starkly reminded of Robin, Batman's sidekick, one of the very few children that he knew in their line of business. By Batman's silence, he was probably thinking along the same lines.
"Speak your last question and leave."
"Can the Justice League depend on you for further help and assistance in the future? I would like to come back if I can."
"Our King was once a hero too. Come if you need it."
That was when the quasar sent out a flare, the gases and planetary nebula around it rubbing against each other hard enough to send sparks Superman's way. It was clearly a warning, especially as the neutron star began spinning rapidly again, radiation beginning to light the air around him in a devastating chill.
"Leave," They all chorused.
Superman immediately turned away without hesitation. "Thank you very much! I will come again!"
The receiver did not speak again. Instead, the songs restarted and the voices continued to sing a song that he could not recognize. It was ethereal, if not haunting.
Superman was smiling as he left. Batman was silent in his ear and Superman finally asked, "So? What do you think?"
"... I think we need more information."
"You're just feeling soft because they said they were heroes and were also children," Superman teased.
"How do you know they weren't lying?" Batman sounded angry.
However, Superman wasn't concerned and only laughed. "Lying? For what? They could definitely rip me apart if they wanted. They even had a baby star with them."
"Hnn." The old softie definitely suddenly had a moment of heartache from remembering the baby star.
Superman glanced behind himself, where the fascinating cluster of stars, planets, and black holes all existed in harmony together. The quasar and neutron star lit the way alongside the other stars and the tiny galaxy grew smaller and smaller as Superman flew away.
Whatever this galaxy actually was, Superman would be glad if they could find the help they needed and helped the Justice League in turn.
".... let's come back in a month," Batman said, sounding like it was pulled out from his teeth.
It was good that Batman felt the same way.
Perhaps the next time Superman came, he could chat some more with this little galaxy?
|||||||||||||||||||||||
I did so much research for this, it's crazy đ
Dan is the black hole and Danny is the neutron star. The reason is that both of them are technically star corpses (a large or high-mass collapsed or dead star can either result in nothing, a black hole, or a neutron star) and while Dan consumes everything around him, Danny is a remnant of a star before him. The planetary nebula that came from Danny going supernova is consumed by his siblings, mostly Jazz or Dani. Dan and Danny don't fight over it bc they love their sisters.
Dani is a protostar, which is also a baby star. I hc that she used to be a star before, but she's just restarting her rebirth until she becomes a black hole or a neutron star like her siblings :3
Jazz is a quasar, which is a different type of black hole, (inspired by this post I made). She and Danny light the way for their little galaxy.
Tucker and Sam are also there, as planets! They used to be stars but they're reborn as planets this time. Tucker is a desert planet with several Saturn-like rings of metals and sand. Sam is a terrestrial planet and is capable of life. All that's on her is plants and animals tho (they haven't gotten enough time to evolve yet). The rest of the crew (Valerie, Wes, etc) are also there and are planets. They never really reach the level of stars tho.
#dc x dp#dp x dc#jazz fenton#danny phantom x dc#dp x dc crossover#danny fenton#dpxdc#dcxdp#danny phantom#celestial object au#dan phantom#dani phantom#dani fenton#danielle fenton#danielle phantom#phantom family#dp crossover#dp au#dp x dc au
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simonâs been having dreams since you left.
horrendous, sickeningly sweet dreams, all of you. itâs always you. reminding him of something heâs not sure he ever really hadâ something like a mirage, there one minute and gone the next.
but youâd been gone for a while, really. since youâd woken up in that infirmary bed, hatred and terror in your eyes every time you looked at him.
perhaps itâs been longer thanâ probably since they had you in that damn chair. maybe even before, when whispers of a traitor slipped into their minds and dug its claws in. all signs pointing to you.
most of the dreams start like this:
he wakes to the sound of birdsong. sweet little chirps that sound just outside the window you insist be left open during the springtime.
heâd conceded, not daring to tell you no. it was always yes with you, which surprised him. yes, nonetheless.
he gives a soft groan as his eyes begin to crack open. youâre curled into him, your head resting atop his inked arm. the limb is completely numb, but he doesnât dare to move it. heâs content to lay here and watch you, because this is when he feels he truly has you.
(but itâs a dream, he realizes when he wakes. and he thinks he never really had youâ a destination he desired but never reached. he doesnât have you anymore, and he never will again.)
the fragrant smell of your favorite flowers, which fill the flower beds surrounding the little blue cottage, wafts in through the window. vibrant pinks and yellows that came after days of hard laborâ simon planting each little seed and tending to it until it blossomed. he refused to let you help. said it was his gift to you.
a token of his love.
(even though youâve long since gone from the little blue cottage, he still labors over those flowers every growing season. a gift to you, that youâd never see the longevity of. that youâd never known was a labor of love.)
(he hated that the first time youâd laid eyes on the cottage, he hadnât been with you. that youâd been forced to go thereâ that they (he) had forced you out.)
you curl deeper into his side, your hair tickling his arm. he watches you sleep, your eyelids fluttering as you dream. he can tell itâs a good one by the way your nose twitches and a grin spreads across your lips.
(too often, he wakes to your screams of terror. the screams you had loosed under his tortuous hand. no longer are the nightmares that plague you ones of the perils of your job. now, theyâre memories of what heâs done.)
(he wonders if you still wake up screaming. he wonders if you wish he was there to calm you back to sleep, like heâd done countless times before.)
(he wonders if he is what you see in your nightmares now.)
he shifts his body slightly. you stir, eyes still tightly shut as sunlight beams through the airy sage green curtains. again, he couldnât say no to you.
especially when you had given him the reason behind them. âI want to spend every minute together. just us. every moment out of service, I want.â
it was always yes with you.
âgood morning, si,â you grumble, voice still thick from sleep.
âdid I wake you?â he whispers, lips pressing to the hair atop your head.
âbirdsong outside did,â you reply, a yawn splitting your mouth wide. his free hand finds your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.
âtold ya we should shut the window, love.â
itâs here when things start to differ.
in the good dreams, you look up at him with a grin. the pair of you spend the next hour in bed, drifting in and out of sleep and whispering mundane thoughts to each other. him holding you tightly, swearing he can feel your warmth next to him even when he inevitably wakes.
the bad dreams are more common.
when you look up at him, he sees one of two faces. the first face looks at him with the same expression youâd had back in priceâs office, before you had slammed a fist into his jaw.
itâs heartbroken and itâs tired. itâs hateful and scared and ashamed.
(he still thinks itâs beautiful.)
the second face is battered and beaten and bruised. itâs the face youâd worn when in the chair, tortured by his hand. swollen and discolored. bloody. broken.
but most of all, itâs betrayed.
and that jolts him awake. but he doesnât mind the bad dreams. doesnât mind any dreams, now.
because theyâre always about you. about his greatest failure, his greatest love. he sleeps so he can see you because itâs all he gets now.
he doesnât know where you went after the cottage, none of them do. you wanted it that way. he wouldnât dare seek you out. he owed you that much.
so he sleeps.
and he dreams of you.
hereâs a little drabble about simon after reader leaves at the end of traitor. definitely inspired by âsailor songâ. hope you all enjoy :)
p.s. I hate tumblr bc I had written this and tried to save it and the app crashed. so this is my poor attempt of recreating a work I was proud of :(
ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon riley#simon riley x reader#john price#simon riley x gn reader#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#captain john price#gaz call of duty#soap call of duty#ghost call of duty#call of duty drabble#traitor!141!reader#traitor!reader#141!reader#141 x reader#task force 141#tf 141#simon riley angst#simon ghost x you#simon ghost angst#ghost x gn reader#ghost x you#ghost angst#ghost x reader#ghost cod#cod x reader#cod modern warfare#simon ghost riley x you
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pairing: wolf hybrid denki kaminari x chubby cow hybrid reader
summary: denki kills and eats hybrids, you're his newest target... at least his target at the beginning...
word count: 3.8k words
a/n: this is actually quite messed up but i really like it, i've been writing this for ages!! i hope you like it !! please check the warnings before reading !!
content warnings: prey/predator, dubcon, smut, unprotected sex, knotting, yandere denki, stalking, manipulation, mentions of denki killing and eating people, blood (not descriptive), pet names, kidnapping (but lowkey willingly), reader is turned on by the thrill & danger, praise, degradation - mdni / 18+
cow hybrid reader and wolf hybrid denki!!! he's an actual predator and god you look so tasty. typically he goes for bunnies but you look irresistible. his yellow fluffy ears paired with a sleek tail that matches, along with a black tip end, resting against the side of his leg and a glint of a sharp tooth as he smirks disarming people who should be on high alert around him. slanted, hooded, golden eyes that scream impure desire. he's charming and friendly. just because he's a wolf hybrid it doesn't mean he's dangerous... he wouldn't hurt a fly... that's the last thought that runs through the bunnies heads who become his latest meal think at least.
denki drools when he spots you for the first time, he's seen cow hybrids before but none as beautiful and appealing as you. you're so soft and plump, dark patches litter your skin and your ears droop down the side of your face, two small horns at the top of your head just poking out of your hair too little to do any actual damage. always wearing short denim shorts and skirts with room for your small tail. overalls, dungarees and skin fitting button up shirts that leave little to the imagination. it's mouthwatering as he watches you bend down and tend to your vegetable patch. often twiddling your fingers whenever he spots you, he's been following you for days to know about it and he wonders if you can sense when he's watching you. he doesn't wait this long with other hybrids but he wants to watch you longer. he doesn't know why. he finds you fascinating.
one afternoon your hare hybrid friend visits your cottage in the middle of the forest. "i'm just saying you need to be careful all alone out here. hybrids have been going missing lately in the woods. no one has heard from alice in weeks and she lives closer to you than anyone else does."
your friend peers at you while you look away, instead focusing on your wooden table separating you two. you're not ready to look in his eyes yet, you know the concern will be evident. you glance at your lilies in a vase that are starting to wilt and your blue ceramic teapot with a homemade tea cosy covering the middle section that alice made you last christmas.
he frowns and crosses his arms, you can practically feel his annoyance and displeasure of you avoiding replying.
you take a sip of tea and finally fully digest the information, making eye contact with him. "i appreciate you looking out for me but i like it here. i don't want to move into town."
"move in with me then. i'm on just the outskirts. please, i don't want anything to happen to you." he tries to convince you but you don't budge.
"i'll be even more careful, i promise. i'll always double check the doors are locked and never go out after dark." you shut down the conversation and move on to how your sunflowers are growing quicker than normal this year. you don't want to move, you love your cottage, 'alice has probably just gone to see her family and forgot to tell everybody.'
denki watched as you bid your friend goodbye and he did not like the way you wrapped your arms around him on the doorstep, his taller body engulfing yours and he tells you to promise him you'll be safe. denki hated it. you're his prey, no one else is allowed to touch you.
alice isn't the only one that goes missing, hare doesn't taste nice. no one is allowed to touch you. his pretty heifer.
you unknowingly had denki's rapt attention, so much so that he ended up spraining his ankle on a tree trunk while observing you from the tree line. at that point he decided this little waiting game of his was done, he wanted to get it over with, now annoyed, you're not fast enough to run away from him even with his dodgy ankle and not fast enough to give him an exciting chase so he wants you gone. he does want to hear your voice close up and get you to trust him though, that's always his favourite part (even more than chasing). luring someone in the open, close enough for him to pounce.
today you ventured further in the forest than normal looking for berries to collect for the pie you're planning to make clutching a woven wicker basket tightly so you don't drop any berries, wanting to make it back home before dark just like you promised to your friend. also wanting to be home soon to start making your pie. you're planning to have an early night, you didn't get much sleep last night you swore you heard something outside but chalked it up to the wind playing tricks on you but the doubt still lingered, walking downstairs wrapped in a blanket as you triple checked you locked the doors.
even with a sprained ankle denki was still able to sneak up behind on you and surprise you, wolves aren't labelled as predators for nothing and he hasn't been following you for weeks without your awareness because of luck. "hey sweetheart," he's leaning against a tree bark and looking you up and down hungrily.
you jolt at the sudden voice and yelp turning around to look at him, startled at the handsome hybrid. you're no idiot though, you back away slowly, not taking your eyes of him. warnings from your friend blaring and running through your head. cautionary tales from neighbouring kids as children. your mother drilling into your head at a young age not to trust strangers, not to trust predators no matter how pleasant they seem. she told you stories about how many people still dehumanise hybrids, ostracising them from society. how it's rare to see none hybrids living in hybrid settlements but it still happens, love still happens, love conquers all. but predators... stay away from them. they will do anything in their power to get you alone and make you disappear. there is no such thing as love or friendship or kindness that a predator can feel towards prey, no wolf will love a bunny, no bear will befriend a cow.
"i-is there a problem sir?" you keep backing up, your back hitting the tree. you're cornered. he's faster than you and you know it, wolves are known for being good runners and you are notoriously known as a bad runner from anyone that knows you. you're not going to end up like one of those missing hybrids though, you'll find a way out of this, you're close to your house and you know not to trust a wolf. you're not going to be deceived...
"'sir'? i like that." he smirks and your face heats up. you're not going to be deceived...
"if you'll excuse me i have somewhere to be, someone is waiting for me." you try to keep your voice level and move around him.
denki slams his hand against the tree you're currently backed up against and growls, "don't think so babe," your eyes widen and he leans downs to breathe low in your ear, "why don't you talk to me instead. i get lonely and you're so pretty. i'll be better company than who ever you were planning to see." a shiver runs down your spine and before you can say anything else he crowds your space even more and presses his finger against your lips to stop you from talking again. with his other hand he's lifting your top up and stroking your waist gently.
you should resist. you should run. you don't move.
the voices of reason from your loved ones fade away as his words make you feel wanted and the way he's touching you makes you feel desired. instincts screaming at you, 'he's a wolf! this is a trap!' you ignore it. his hands on you just feel too good. you've never heard of wolves liking cows before, maybe he is just lonely because people don't trust him just because he's a wolf hybrid. you know what that's like, people assume things of you just because you're a cow hybrid.
denki smirks as he takes in your reaction, your shoulders slack and your body relaxes, 'adorable.'
you won't fight him now, you're going to be delicious.
denki digs both his hands on either side of your wide hips, keeping you in place, he doesn't want you to move and try to wriggle away. he breaths in deeply as the scent of your blood permeates the air from the way his sharp fingers from his paws are pressing into you.
you're physically frozen apart from a small quiver. a million thoughts flash through your head, 'this was always his plan, i'm going to die here.' he ignores your tremble and goes to bite you neck, tearing your jugular and killing you. his teeth grazes your skin and you unknowing gasp loudly making denki immediately freeze in his tracks because with that gasp comes a spike of a new smell and it's triggering his dick to harden.
his grip on you gets tighter and you whimper. he raises his head from your neck to look you in eyes in disbelief, "are you really turned on right now?" your mouth opens and closes, no words coming out. he swallows and his disbelief grows at your lack of a rebuttal or any answer, "i'm planning to kill you, you know?" everything is the silent and denki can hear your heartbeat loudly in your chest. "are all cows this fucking stupid?" more silence. denki lifts his head up to look at the sky and grits his teeth inhaling deeply before looking back at you. "jesus you smell so good."
he presses his leg in between your chunky thighs and you whine at the contact. denki groans and his eyes darken even more than they were. if any of his friends saw him right now they would be grossed out, it's not normal to want to fuck someone you're planning on eating. bakugou would tell him he's messed up in the head. maybe he's just horny in general, he wonders if sero is still single, sex with him is always so mindblowing. the thought of that makes him growl again...he doesn't want sero, he wants you, he needs you.
your eyes are cloudy and your blood is starting to drip down staining your skirt. denki glances at you and sees a dazed look on your face, "fuck it," he murmurs under his breath and rips off your underwear, disregarding your shocked shriek. he takes what he wants and he wants you.
he hurriedly unbuckles his belt and shoves down his jeans, pooling down at his ankles.
denki wastes no time slamming his cock into you and starts thrusting at a brutal pace. "feel so amazing, such a pretty little cow." tears run down your face as soon as he stretches you, it's painful and you've never taken someone as big as him before especially when no foreplay has happened. "too many clothes," he mumbles again and tears off your shirt, pulling your bra down and grabbing your breasts harshly, groping to his hearts content, occasionally pinching and flicking your nipples causing you to wince. your pussy warm and getting wetter, sucking him in every time he goes to pull out causing him to growl deeply. your moans get louder and the pain dulls into intense pleasure. little moos escape your mouth and it makes denki go even more feral, wanting you to keep making those sweet noises.
this whole time you haven't been speaking, you don't want to speak, you don't want to think about what will happen after this and after you had gotten used to the pace you stopped making any noises apart from a hushed sob or two. eventually one particular thrust leaves you squealing loudly mixed in with a loud moo. your head feels fuzzy, like its full of cotton wool and you're pressing your body closer to him and trying to match his pace he doesn't stop you, enjoying your neediness for him. "wan' more. need more. want you s'bad," slurring your words and hiccuping. denki is stunned by your attitude, this whole time you've been surprising him. picking up your plush thigh he wraps it around him higher and starts pushing into you harder. you scream loudly and try to hold onto his arms, losing your grasp as your body bounces on his cock. "lemme come," you beg.
"awe, you wanna come," denki teases you snickering, "think you deserve it?"
you nod your head frantically. "yeah, yeah, 'm good and pretty, jus' like you said."
he hums like he's actually considering it before answering "i never said you're good. i said you feel good. i might let you come later."
you start blabbering, fat tears streaming down your face as you beg and plead but he just smirks with a gleam in his eye. "i'll think about letting you come if you take my knot like a good girl." his pace becomes even harder than before and you feel something forming, it's enlarged, swollen, bulbous, that's getting bigger continuously smacking against you but not going in.
"knot?" you tilt your head confused. if your head was more clear you'd have an idea what it was, sometimes when you go into town you hear people talking and once you had heard about knots in passing.
"are you serious, are all cows this dumb?" he teases you and cackles.
pouting, you deny his accusation, "'m dumb, just don' know."
denki quirked an eyebrow, looking amused, "oh, when did you become so vocal?" he says playfully. "you'll find out what a knot is in a minute sweetheart."
wanting desperately to come you nod your head while your moans and ah's increase. "ssshit, gonna give it to you pretty girl," he groans and pushes his fat knot, ropes of cum spilling into and stuffing you full. a silent scream escapes your mouth and you lean against denki's lithe chest, a little moo comes out and you shake.
he growls at you telling you not to move after you start shifting and wriggling, unable to pull away from him and his knot. it's hard for you to keep still, you thought it was painful before but the larger stretch makes you feel like you're being torn apart.
as you lean against denki and pant heavily a light blush forms on his cheeks. in the back of his mind he's thinking about how he wants to wrap his arms and never let you go. he's brought back to reality as he hears your sobs and his eyebrows furrow. it shouldn't matter to him in the slightest that you're in pain, it's his plan that in the next hour you won't be breathing but he doesn't like it...
"want me to make you come now sweetheart?" he soothingly asks you. in between sobs and small cries you tell him you want to come and he lets you. "you've such a good girl. you've been such a good cow. so obedient. cute little heifers get to come."
being plugged full of his cum and his cock still hard and throbbing in you, he grabs hold of your pillowy thighs and spreads them further apart, lifting one up to perch it around his slim waist after slipping down his leg previously from hard thrusts shaking your body. his other hand going down, unknowingly he retracts his sharp nails to make sure he doesn't hurt you at all, and presses against your clit, making figures of eight, at the same time grinding into you and gyrating his hips.
denki can't stop his groans as he feels you clenching around him. he speeds up, wanting to feel you come around him and his knot.
you arch your back and your eyesight goes starry, you moan as you climax and denki helps you ride out your orgasm. denki groans again feeling you come undone. cunt now puffy and swollen. the pain begins to dull after such an intense orgasm but you still clutch onto denki's top tightly. he sees that you're still in pain and frowns, caressing your soft skin in a second attempt to calm you down and relax you.
there's so many thoughts running through his head right now as he holds you, thinking about how beautiful you are and how you make his heart skip a beat. he thinks about your cute patchy skin and supple body that feels so heavenly. thinking about the judgemental comments from people if they saw what just happened, and people could, neither of you tried to muffle your voices and you're out in the open. thinks about if he's starting to change his mind about you... thinking about what he was planning... it would be a waste of a couple weeks of watching you but he's thinking about how if anything did happen to you he'd be gutted. he thinks about how if he saw another hybrid try to hurt you he'd be furious. he'd make them pay. he would want to protect you, keep you safe. make sure you're his... 'safe? mine? what am i going on about. i don't think i'll go into the forest again for awhile... i'll stick with bunnies from now on...'
he's jolted from his thoughts as you copy him, tenderly tracing circles along his hip. denki intakes air as he feels the tender touch, almost lovingly, it nearly makes him cry with how you're touching him. your mind is completely blank and your face displaying bliss from the aftermath of sex. you're so pliant right now, he could just take you, no one would notice, you'd just be another hybrid that's gone missing in the woods. you wouldn't even fight him.
denki starts talking quietly, making it very clear what he says is for your ears only which makes it all the more sweeter and he tells you that you're beautiful and asks about the berries you were carrying and which berry is your favourite. he whispers to you about how he sprained his ankle earlier and little stories and anecdotes stuff like how he was once electrocuted when he was a toddler holding an umbrella in a thunder storm and how he lived surrounded by non-hybrids a lot of his life but he's still wary of how they might have turned on him at the drop of a hat, he carries that anxiety with him even now, hidden but still there. he lived there before he found his safe haven, his friends he met, hybrids like him, he called them like-minded and you weren't really sure what he was referring to.
you hum listening to his stories and press your body against his even more due to getting cold from the lack of clothes you were wearing and the sun that's staring to go down.
after a while of more of his stories you ask, "can we kiss?"
"huh?"
"we haven't kissed this whole time and i think we should."
he bursts out laughing and accuses you for only wanting to kiss him because of his teeth which you vehemently deny causing him to laugh more. "alright sweetheart, i'll give you what you want." tilting your head up he kisses you delicately before evolving into something more hungry, his tail swishing softly and languidly behind him as he licks into your mouth, tongues intertwining, and teasingly trails your bottom lip with his teeth.
his knot begins to soften and he knows soon he'll have to pull out. he holds onto you tighter not wanting to let you go and that's when he's made up his mind. he's not going to let you go. you have no choice.
you whine and he hisses under his breath as he takes his cock out and watches his cum drip down your thighs, wanting to get you both home as quick as possible so he can go down on you and feast on your combined taste. denki holds onto your waist to keep you from falling over, your knees wobbly from standing in that position for so long. "i've decided what i'm going to do with you." you gulp and try to stay calm, at least you've had great sex before dying. "i'm keeping you." he grins at you.
"w-wait what?" you ask confused.
"i thought i was gonna to eat you." he explains and you nod your head gathering that was your demise. "but now i want you as my cute little girlfriend."
you're stunned, genuinely speechless. "i have questions... can i ask questions?" you request timidly.
'cute,' denki thinks before smirking and teases you replying, "maybe later, first lets get home."
you aren't refusing to leave with him, it's not even because you're worried it's your only option, it's that you want to leave with him. you know how wrong that is, on multiple levels, but somehow you want to trust him and put your faith in him. you want to think he sees you differently than before or differently to others. you see him differently too, not just during sex but afterwards too, all those words exchanged and chaste touches, you want more. it's wrong... but that doesn't mean you don't go willingly with him.
if you knew what denki did to your friends you wouldn't be compliant. if you knew the extent of what he's done you'd prefer to die and be with your friends but denki will make sure you never find out, he'll never let you out of his sight.
denki licks his lips and you panic worried that even this last minute was a ploy to get you to completely let down your guard but he stares at your bare chest. before you can have a reaction to his stare he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, fixing the rest of your clothes the best he can, his hands hovering in between your breasts. "don't want anyone looking at what's mine."
he holds onto your hand and walks in front of you in the direction of his house. "i'm kaminari by the way. you can call me denki. you can also stick with 'sir' if you want." he smirks and turns to look at you causing your eyes to widen as he mentions the use of sir. "this entire time i never told you my name sweetheart, i can't believe i didn't tell you or you ask about it."
"that never crossed my mind, i was more concerned about being eaten." you say seriously and denki chuckles.
"understandable sweetheart. i told you mine so it's your turn. what's my pretty girlfriend called?"
#denki kaminari smut#denki kaminari x reader smut#bnha smut#mha smut#denki kaminari x reader#bnha x reader#bnha x chubby reader#chubby reader smut#chubby reader#cw : dark#⥠mine / writing#⥠denki#hybrid au#mha x reader#denki kaminari x chubby reader#denki kaminari x chubby reader smut#plus size reader smut#plus size reader#bnha x reader smut#bnha x you#mha x you#denki kaminari#bnha kaminari
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knee deep in the passenger seat of the honda odyssey (18+, deadpool x reader)
Summary: you and wade are on a ~secret undercover mission~ in a honda odyssey and smut ensues obviously
Pairing: annoying deadpool x fem!reader
Word Count: 2.1k
Tags/Warnings: car smut, dubcon, noncon, rough, stakeout
Fun Fact: first car I learned to drive in was a honda odyssey
You were stationed just on the outskirts of a busy beach boardwalk on a hot summer day. For some godforsaken reason, your boss decided to pair you up with none other than Wade himself on a stakeout mission. Your target was supposed to be the leader of a major corporate crime ring out on vacation with his family. The only description was that he was 5â6, looked like an average father, and was wearing a Hawaiian print shirt.Â
That being said, you were fully prepared for being here all fucking day.Â
Wade also brought up the brilliant idea of renting out a blue Honda Odyssey so that it will âlook more believableâ and âhelp us blend inâ with the âAmerican middle classâ.Â
Also, this entire mission, he has been unable to keep his eyes or hands off of you. It was annoying, really. He was so goddamn needy.
You were perched on the backseat, elbows placed on top of the armrest so you could peer out the window with your binoculars.Â
Deadpool was laying on his side on the car floor, happily munching on a bag of snacks he stole from the convenience store earlier.
âIf you are going to be here, can you at least help keep watch,â you said, unphased as he continued to crunch loudly on the concerningly neon yellow chips.
âAnd miss out on this view? No thank you!â he replied, wit as sharp as ever. He giggled pervertedly to himself as he admired how the bright yellow sundress you had on accentuated the curve of your waist and the arch of your back. And how the sunlight poured through the window just right so he could see the contour of your hips and thighs perfectly. He liked the way it glinted off your long hair that cascaded over your neck and shoulders like water. He could watch you forever like this. You were like a Renaissance painting to him.Â
âYou know, I donât understand why you even agreed to come in the first place,â you mused to yourself. âLike, are you really that bored? Donât you have anything better to do besides pestering me.â
âAnd miss out on an opportunity to spend the entire day with Y/N?â he chuckled. âYou underestimate my priorities. Besides, being an absolute menace to you and people in general is one of my lifeâs greatest joys! Itâs like snorting cocaine off a drag queenâs ass for the first time in a gay bar. You just canât get enough of it. Only.. itâs better. And more sustainable!â
âYou are unbelievable,â you scoffed. âAlso, I highly doubt you are cool enough to do that.â
âYou donât know everything about my life,â he bantered back. âBesides, when was the last time you ever went out?â
âI go out!â
âNo you donât.â
âWhatever.â
âOr.. I have an even better idea. I can take you out,â he suggested, embellishing his request by blowing you a kiss and breaking out the jazz hands. Â
âIn your wildest dreams, Wade,â you muttered, sitting down on the back seat and cleaning the lenses of your binoculars.
He saw this as a challenge to move closer to you, kneeling at your feet like he was your lap dog. âAw come on Y/N, donât be like this,â he begged, placing his gloved hands on top of your knees, gently massaging the sides of your legs with his thumbs. âI know you like it when I give you attention.â
You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. âDonât flatter yourself, Wade. Iâm just here for the job. Nothing more, nothing less. Now if youâll excuse me, I have to get back to-â
âOh, but you are not excused,â Wade cooed, softly prying your legs open so you were beginning to spread apart, much to your dismay. âYou see, wearing a sundress on a hot summer day, and on a beach boardwalk nonetheless, is easily the sluttiest thing someone can do.â
âYou arenât exactly the one to slutshame me,â you snapped back. âArenât you the one sleeping with a different person every night and then forgetting their name the next morning?â
âThatâs not true, Iâm a virgin!â Deadpool protested as he dipped his head underneath the hem of your skirt. âIâve never given myself to anyone before.â
âIf youâre going to lie, at least make it convincing,â you said. âH-hey what are you even doing down there?â
You could feel his leather-covered fingers slyly dancing over the fabric of your panties.Â
âOooh, I like this one a lot!â he beamed, tugging at the lacy waistband of your underwear. âYellow stripes! And those cute little bows too. Y/N, youâve really outdone yourself this time. Where did you even get something like this? Victoriaâs Secret? No, too bougie. Target? Oh, I know I know. Shein.â
âCan you please stop?!â you exclaimed, trying to push him away, but he was holding onto your thighs with an iron grip. âWe are working right now and in public for Godâs sake. I always knew you were indecent but this is genuinely taking it to another level.â
He narrowed his eyes. âSo it is Shein.â
You decided to ignore the accusation.Â
âRelax, Y/N,â he whispered, pressing his index finger onto the outline of your clit and rubbing over it in teasingly aching circles. âNo one can see us. We are parked far enough away. Also, who would even suspect anyone is getting laid in a Honda Odyssey? And if they do, Iâll just tell them I was doing your annual pap smear out of the goodness of my heart. Or better yet, just let them watch! I mean, itâs a boardwalk for crying out loud. People are here to be entertained!â
âYou are ridiculous,â you sighed, ultimately giving him the upper hand without even realizing it. You leaned back into the headrest, trying not to overthink even though your mind was beginning to race.Â
You felt him pry your panties to the side, and squeeze onto the sides of your labia between his index and middle finger. The smooth sensation of his leather glove running over you was enough to elicit a soft cry from your lips. This only encouraged him more.Â
You whined as he slowly spread your labia apart with his two fingers, causing you to stretch and twitch. You could feel yourself losing, giving in to him. It was a part of yourself that you were not necessarily proud of, but knew would eventually fold to his antics.Â
âWhy are you so tight..â he mused to himself, retracting and then spreading his fingers, over and over again to entice you. âLike this has got to be a world record. I doubt I could even fit a needle in there.â
âWade!â you cried. âIf youâre going to go through with this, can you at the very least shut the fuck up for just once in your life?â
âAww, sheâs being so mean,â he cooed, ignoring you altogether. âWouldnât you agree? Sheâs being such a bad girl.â
âYes, sheâs being just awful!â he said in a high-pitched voice, contorting your pussy as if to pretend it was talking back. âYou should really teach her a lesson for acting this way.â
âUgh, thank you so much for always having my back,â he replied. âSee? Even she agrees that you are being unreasonable!â
You were beside yourself at this point, forfeiting the battle and just gazing fondly out the window, allowing the sun to shine over your face.Â
He poked his head out from underneath your dress just in time to catch this moment.Â
âYou know, you really are very pretty Y/N,â he commented. âLike, as in, I could absolutely see you on the cover of a magazine or a movie poster. Something classy. But not too much where it feels overdone, like those car commercials where the models are spraying themselves with a water hose. Just. Demure, you know?â
âJust shut the fuck up and eat me out already,â you replied, visibly annoyed at this point.Â
Wade obediently dove back under your skirt, lifting up the bottom of his mask and blowing hot air gently onto your clit. He planted a soft kiss over the top of it, ensuring that both of his lips fully engulfed your most sensitive part. He smirked to himself when he noticed your legs instinctively resting themselves over his shoulders.Â
You sighed as you felt his tongue flicker mischievously over your warm petals, his thumbs rubbing the divots of your inner thighs like they knew exactly what they were doing. He kissed every part of you so carefully and thoughtfully, as if he wanted to make sure you felt taken care of. His gentleness pleasantly surprised you, as you were unsure he was even capable of being so delicate.Â
You felt one of the straps of your sundress slowly beginning to slide off, as you lightly placed your hand on top of his head, encouraging him to go even harder. You tossed your head back when he pierced your hole with his hot tongue, softly saying his name over and over again in affirmation.Â
He liked to tease you, occasionally slowing down for an extended period of time, only for you to say âKeep going! Why did you stop?â He particularly enjoyed watching you blush and become so frazzled you couldnât even form a proper sentence while he went down on you. But he liked seeing you get exasperated and worked up when he purposefully paused even more. He loved to elicit every type of emotion from you with his tongue. It made him feel like he had power over you.
Next thing you know, he had you pushed up against the car seat, with your dress rolled up to your waist, pounding into you for what felt like hours. He liked to use the seatbelt to wrap around your neck, choking you enough so you could barely catch your breath.Â
âW-Wade,â you stammered, wet pussy dripping all over the Honda Odyssey as he continued to ram relentlessly into you. From an outsiderâs perspective, the vehicle was shaking very suspiciously. âWe should.. probably.. get back to the mission..â
âAnd miss out on the big finale?â he asked, his hand gripping onto the curve of your waist. âNow why exactly would I do that?â
âB-because i-if we donât, I.. we, the target..â you sighed, unable to string together a coherent thought because he was so damn rough you could hardly think.Â
You yelped as he smacked your ass with enough rigor to shake the backseat.Â
âSomething that always bothered me about you, Y/N, is that you are always so worried about the stupid shit,â he muttered, sliding his hand over your backside to prepare to spank you one more time. âYou never.â Slap. âFucking.â Smack. âListen.âÂ
âSo when I tell you that you need to relax..â he continued, one of his hands reaching over and gripping the back of your neck. âYou are going to relax. Okay?â
âY-yes sir,â you stammered, gripping onto the shoulder rest of the back seat for dear life, as he began to increase his speed and intensity again.Â
âThatâs a good girl,â he said, smiling to himself. âIsnât that right?â He tilted his head to the side as if to strike up a casual conversation with your pussy. âSheâs being such a good girl, huh?â
He proceeded to mimic choking and sputtering noises.Â
âThatâs okay, I know you have your mouth full,â he responded, trying not to laugh too hard at his own joke.Â
As he was about to push in even deeper, the walkie talkie in the front seat suddenly went off.Â
âHey, is anyone even there?â the voice called out. âWeâve been paging you for hours. Iâve got eyes on the target right now. Six oâ clock. Donât fuck this up. Over.â
You both froze mid-motion, looking towards the front of the car and then once back at each other. Without needing to exchange a word, you both sprung back into action. Wade tossed you your panties and you quickly pushed your dress straps back on over your shoulders. You managed to crawl your way over to the front, since your legs were hardly functioning at this point. Sluggishly, you picked up the walkie talkie and brought it up to your mouth.Â
âHeard,â you said wearily.
#deadpool#deadpool movie#deadpool 3#poolverine#deadpool x reader#deadpool x y/n#deadpool x you#honda odyssey#honda car#honda#x reader#female reader#one shot#marvel#mcu#marvel cinematic universe#marvel mcu#the avengers#wade wilson#marvel jesus#avengers
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'SUNBLEACHED' (1.6k words) Our collaboration piece for the Flowers in the Desert zine! writing by me (birrdies) art by @fishbloc
Sunflowers.Â
Over the flat, endless plain they stretch as far as Scar can see. Roots and leaves branch like veins and arteries through the soil on the verge of something alive. The sunflowers face the limitless blue aboveâ no beginning or endâ the stretch so vast that time itself feels as inconsequential as a marble rolling around in his hand.Â
Scar doesnât understand it.
One second his feet had been on the stone where Pearl had fallen, where lightning had struck with finality, and the next heâs up to his waist in sunflowers. Each golden petal stands on edge. As if they know something he doesnât. He reaches out to touch one of these petals; they tickle the pads of his fingers. Shy, pretty things.Â
Itâs quiet here and Scar isnât sure if itâs a silence he finds comforting or damning. He thinks he should be afraid, but how can he be? Itâs warm here. The earth smells of freshly fallen rain beneath his feet, despite not a single cloud in the sky above. The fresh, dewey scent that soothes him, almost convinces him that this is a good place to be.Â
âYouâre here,â a voice says behind him.
There, enveloped by the countless sunflowers, is Grian. His hair is pale, sunbleached, and his cheeks are pink. Everything about him has been touched by the light in some way, down to the faded red poncho draping his shoulders and the speckling of freckles across his nose bridge.Â
Heâs drowning in itâ this light. Heâs made of it. And Scarâs eyes fall to find the sunflowers around him withering and decaying quickly. The yellow petals curl and desiccate into gray husks, breaking off their buds and fluttering to the ground. Theyâre dying. Not by lack of sunlight, Scar realizes, but by an excess of it. Burnt to a crisp.Â
And like the sun, his skin blisters. The skin of his hands and the redness slathering them have no beginning or end. Gashes and swelling bruises and split knuckles. The blood never clots, a constant red drip falling from the fingers held limp at his sides. A quiet drip, drip, drip the only sound across the windless field. Not even so much as the sound of a breath. Just that blood. âGrian,â Scar says. âIâm here.â
He doesnât know why. He doesnât know why Grianâs here either. But heâs grateful he is. Their nightmareâ or, had it been a dream?â ended long ago, the desert gone and buried several games past. The Grian in front of him now isnât the Grian heâd fought with moments ago. This Grian was younger. More afraid. More capable of burning.Â
âWhere⊠where is here, exactly?â Scar asks.
Grian curls those bleeding fingers into the nearest living sunflower. As if heâs unsure whether he wants to caress it or yank it from the ground, roots and all. His face is twisted, itâs always twisted when Scarâs around. But he yearns for the days when that twist had been of wicked delight, the way green-lit eyes exploded into starbursts at the sight of their mutual destruction.Â
âYou won,â Grian says simply, taking a sunflower by the stem and starting to pluck the petals. One by one. âCongratulations.â
Scar falters. A victory. A bolt of lightning striking the earth, the loud thud of a gavel. Itâs over Scar, he hears, a constant echo in the back of his mind. You won. Grianâs anger burns. A second petal falls. âYouâre upset.â Scar will do anything to make it stop, to untie the knot tied between Grianâs eyebrows, to take those cracked, bleeding hands in his own and mend them until the skin is whole again. To take away the pain, the regret, the guilt.Â
Grian never left the desert, no matter how much he wanted to. And Scar could never go back. No matter how often he wished he could.
âThis is your dream, Scar.â Grian turns his face away. âItâs been a long time comingâ a victory.â
âI donât feel like Iâve won anything,â Scar says honestly. A victory implies the heavy yet welcome weight of a crown, the fleeting yet intoxicating rush of excitement. But all Scar feels is the emptiness in his chest, the air around his crownless head. Blood on his hands that he canât see, but knows is there all the same. The same way it stains Grianâs.Â
Grian plucks a third petal. He barks a cruel laugh, but it sounds more like heâs about to cry. âHow do you think I felt?â Scar frowns. âItâs still about the desert? After all this time?âÂ
Grian plucks another petal. Four. It flutters to the ground to join the others, yellow petals torn and crumpled, slowly turning gray. The edge of his mouth tugs into a knife-like smile.
âIâm sorry,â he says. Itâs all he can manage, though he doesnât mean it. Nothing can make him regret that day, knelt in a cool pond with the weight of a diamond blade against the junction of his neck. The hand he used to hold onto it, digging it into his own skinâ asking for it. âYou deserved to win.â
âI deserved this? To be alone?â Grian throws his arms out to the sides, to the endless curvature of sunflowers drowning the both of them. Nothing to shield them from the unrelenting sun above. âBecause thatâs what winning means. Youâre alone, Scar.âÂ
Scarâs heart plummets into his stomach. âYouâre here.âÂ
âAm I?â A fifth petal. âOr do you just want me to be?âÂ
Scar stares at Grian, uncaring if the scalding brightness gives him sunspots, or if the pain of looking at the spoils of his own choices burns him up from the inside. You won, Scar, his voice echoes again and again in Scarâs mind, a scratched record. His fists curl up at his sides, into the black cloak sewn with lilacs and poppies along the hem.Â
Is that what this is? A cruel illusion to make him realize what it truly means to be the man at the edge of the world, to be the last man standing? If this is victoryâ Scar grits his teeth and twists his fists into his cloakâ then he doesnât want it. Heâs never wanted it. It was never about winning, it was aboutâÂ
âAbout what, exactly?â Grian snaps, plucking the through straight from his mind just as he does with a sixth petal. âIs it about this? Sunflowers? You canât hide behind them forever. Not here. Not from me. Not from yourself.âÂ
âStop it.â
Grianâs in front of him now, bloodied hands shoving him by his shoulders. Scar stumbles back and barely keeps himself upright. This isnât right. This isnât Grianâ not the one he knows, not the one he needs.Â
âWhy arenât you angry, Scar?â Another push. âAfter everything thatâs happened to you. All the people that have betrayed you. All the times I left you behind.â
Scar grapples for self control, to reign in the flash of anger burning the back of his throat. âWhat are you trying to prove?âÂ
âStop lying. For once in your life, look me in the eye and tell me youâre angry.â Grian yanks a sunflower from the ground and shoves it, decaying leaves and all, against Scarâs chest. âTell me these are just a sham.âÂ
Itâs on the tip of his tongue: the truth. A terrifying, bitter thing that burns crawling up the back of his throat. Because it betrays everything heâs worked so hard to build, the masks heâs sported like second skins, the confidence which he flaunts like a shield. Without it, what does he have left? Heâs stripped clean, Grierâs hands against his chest burning like sweltering charcoal. Sunflower petals slip between his fingers.Â
He opens his mouth to let it up, to tell the truth, and thenâ
The sky above him changes. Only slightly. If he had blinked he wouldâve missed it. But clear as day he sees them overhead: clouds. Slowly rolling across a blue sky. And heâs on his back, blinking spots from his eyes as breath rushes into his lungs. The air tastes fresh, crisp, like seawater. Eyes fluttering, he tries to remember what heâd just been about to say. âScar?âÂ
Eclipsing the sun beating down on him overhead, a head peers down at him. Dark, wide eyes, a slanted mouth. A sporting of freckles across dusty cheeks.Â
Something knotted unravels in Scarâs chest. âGrian.â Grianâs lips wobble into an uneasy smile. He wipes sweat from his brow, and Scar catches a glimpse of his hands: dirty, packed with mud, but bloodless. âWhatcha doing down there, pal?â Scarâs arms lie limp at his sides. Heâs not sure he could move even if he tried. If he wanted to. Something about this peace is fragile, uncertain. As if simply breathing the wrong way will make the world shatter in two and send him back to that place. One wrong move and heâll be alone again.Â
âDunno,â Scar says breathlessly. Stalks of wheat tickle his arms as the wind kicks up, ghosting over his body. A sunflower stands over him, waving in the breeze. âAppreciating the view. Clouds. Theyâre nice.â
âCome on.â A hand reaches out to him. âStop trampling my wheat.â Scar has to stare at it to remember that itâs not covered in blood. That itâs just dirt from a long day tending to wheat and sunflowers. That the Grian smiling down at him is the real one. Not the one made to torment him.Â
Scar reaches for that hand, allowing their palms to slot together. Grianâs skin is callused and warm. Heâs there. Heâs real. Scar isnât alone.
#it was an HONOR to work with yu on this!!#collaborating was a ton of fun and I'd love to do it again sometime!!#and big thanks to the people in the zine for putting up with my angsty ass#birdie writes#fishbloc#desert duo#desert duo fic#secret life#secret life fic#goodtimeswithscar#gtws#grian#desert duo angst#desert duo fanart
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NO BITCHES?
SUMMARY: When you met Eric, youâd thought he was just another frat boy, looking to get into any womanâs pants (particularly yours at that moment). You never wouldâve thought that he was just a loser who really liked FNAF and just thought you were pretty.
GENRE: smut, fluff, crack, mild angst
PAIRING: Eric Sohn x afab!reader (ft hak, sunwoo, sunwoo's gf, and sangyeon)
WC: 10.5k (there go my plans of proving Ally wrong)
SERIES MASTERLIST
PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez
18+ MDNI AGLESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED
WARNINGS: um... okay so virgin!eric, kinda dom!reader, eric's a fucking loser, reader kinda makes fun of him at first for being a virgin, reader kinda teaches eric about everything from kissing to uh...yeah, dry humping, kissing, making out, oral (m and f receiving), eric cums in his pants, eric plays fnaf, um...public making out? public fingering?, multiple orgasms, eric goes from little virgin boy to I TOLD YOU WE NEEDED MORE GLITTER real fast, sunwoo slander, sunwoo's annoying in this idk, eric's a dumb gamer boy who needs desperate help from the boy who concussed his gf (cough sunwoo), slight bit of miscommunication?, eric cries (ummmm dacryphilia?), reader also cries (again...dacryphilia?), edging el oh el, sunwoo and. reader know the importance of CONSENT, i think that's all the important stuff
A/N: I'm never gonna beat the allegations... ally will always think i bias eric. Anyway, happy birthday to my little munchkin princess eric sohn đ„°đ„°
Eric was practically shaking as he approached you. Scratch that, he was definitely shaking but he could blame the ripples covering the drinks in his hand on the pumping base. It thrummed in his veins, or maybe that was his pulse steadily increasing when he locked eyes with you.
You. His gorgeous, intelligent, perfectâŠ
Lab partner. You were his lab partner and at that very moment, nothing more. At least, not in your eyes. Eric, though? He was enamored by you. The way you laugh, the teasing grin when he does something wrong and you scold him, the way your body looks in that dressâ
âHi.â You look away from your friends and face him, a curious look on your face. Heâs starting to feel warm. Was it warm in here? He thinks heâs starting to sweat, and can feel something drip down the back of his neck.
âHiâŠ?â Your hands are empty, and Eric forces himself not to jump up and down with glee that he doesnât have to make the excuse of having two drinks for himself.Â
âIâmâ Do youââ He stutters, and heat begins to spread from his neck to his cheeks as your friends giggle. You just smile. A kind smile that has his body slowly relaxing the more he looks at your face. âDo you wanna drinkâ I meanâ fuck, I meant do you want a drink. Notâ not do you wanna drinkâ I mean that couldâ that is also a question, butââ
More laughter from your friends and Eric suddenly thinks heâs gonna throw up all over you, your dress, and his nice white button-up shirt that heâd forced Sangyeon to iron for him.Â
âThank you, Eric.â You say, reaching for the cup in his left hand. Your fingers brush against his, and his knees begin to wobble visibly. Your smile disappears into a concerned frown, and suddenly Ericâs attention is on your lips. He isnât paying attention to his surroundings anymore. Canât find himself caring that your friends are still laughing at the scenario, nor that you shoo them away.Â
âEric?â Your hand waves in front of his face, effectively catching the boyâs attention. âAre you okay?â Â
âYeah!â Eric says it far too quickly, knowing immediately that you donât believe him. Fortunately, one of his many charms is that heâs very good at lying to people. âIâm perfectly fine. Why do you ask?âÂ
You giggle, and itâs the sweetest sound that heâs ever heard.
âYou justâ you seem a little uncomfortable right now.â You lean close to him, scanning his face under the flashing lights. You can hardly make out his features under the colors. Blue, purple, red, white, green, yellow. All the colors under the rainbow covered his face and changed every few seconds. When they flashed white, you swear you can see a flush in his cheeks.Â
âWhy would I be uncomfortable?â He leans toward you with a sudden surge of confidence that has your heart pounded a bit. âWhy would I ever be uncomfortable around the most beautiful girl in the building?â
And there it is, folks, you think. Your eye twitches, something so subtle that Eric fails to catch it. The irritation, the disappointment.Â
âAh, I see.â You grimace, and Eric begins to panic again.Â
âWhatâ did I upset you?â He asks, and you roll your eyes.Â
âEric, if you wanna get into my pants youâre gonna have to try better than that.âÂ
Ericâs heart drops to the floor, his face flushing even more as he begins to panic. He stutters, he tries to backtrack, he tries to explain himself. You, however, are hearing none of it. Not a single word that comes out of his mouth reaches your ears.Â
âStop, Eric.â You snap and his mouth snaps shut. âJustâŠJust stop.âÂ
You set the cup heâd given you down on the table, and he stares at it dumbly while you storm away to find your friends again. The amber liquid in the cup sloshes with the base echoing around it and the loud noise of partygoers around him.Â
He watches it spill over the lip of the cup, and then sets his own cup down next to it, turning around to return to the party but the weight of crushing rejection sits uncomfortably on his chest.Â
Itâs two days later when you see Eric again. Monday morning, an 8AM Physics lecture that no one wants to be in. Two weeks into the semester, and almost twenty people had already dropped the class. He walks in with a black hat covering his head, and a white tee shirt covering his torso. Itâs certainly not clothing suitable for the cold air of early February, but heâd been unable to do his laundry over the weekend due to the parties on Friday and Saturday and the neverending clean-up that occurred on Sunday.Â
He spots you, tucked well into the second row, and his eyes light up. Yours, on the other hand, narrow. You keep your gaze on him while he makes his way up to you as quickly as possible, hoping to have a chance to talk to you before the lecture begins.Â
âHey,â he grins at you, gently setting his bag on the chair to his left and turning to face you. Your eyes are still narrowed with suspicion. âHow was your weekend?âÂ
How was your weekend? Itâs as if the both of you hated that question; one of you cringing with something close to disgust, the other with something like horror. Is he stupid?
âIt was fine,â you tell him curtly. Eric frowns, leaning back in his chair when you turn your gaze to the front.Â
âDid I do something wrong?â He blurts out, and your shoulders sag. Was that the wrong thing to ask? Did he do something wrong?
âDid you seriously just ask me that?â You hiss out, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He opens his mouth to speak, but he has a hard time finding the words. What is he even supposed to say? What if you think heâs an asshole for not knowing what was wrong? What if you never smile at him again?
âIâ honestly I really donât know!â You scoff and Eric sits up, leaning forward on the table to get a better view of your face. You can see the pout, see the way his eyebrows knit together in what you can only assume is faux confusion. Thereâs no way he doesnât know what he did.
âYouâre unbelievable, you know that?â You look at him fully now and watch the way his body recoils from the words. Hurt, confusion. No anger. You donât think youâve ever seen Eric Sohn angry in the two years youâd shared classes with him.Â
âWhatâ what did I even do?â The professor walks in, and he hushes his voice. âI canât fix things if I donât know what I did wrong!â
âThatâs your own damn fault then, isnât it?â You click your pen, and Eric shuts up. You almost feel bad, carefully watching as he takes out his own notebook to begin taking notes. He doesnât say anything for the rest of the lecture, and you feel a pang of regret in your chest. Maybe he really doesnât know what he did wrong, you think, nibbling on your lip in thought. No, thereâs no way he doesnât know. Heâs the smartest guy in the room, no way does he not know whatâÂ
You glance at Eric again, this time turning your head to fully look at him. His blond hair falls over his eyes, even with the hat covering his head. His shoulders are hunched, his hand moving so quickly over the lined paper so that he can at least try to keep up with your professor. For a moment, you think about Eric Sohn. About the frat boy who had been nothing but kind to you since the day you met. About the boy who once gave you notes far more detailed than youâd ever written during the week you were sick. About the boy whoâ
No, you shake your head and begin to write down more equations you know youâre going to have to ask Eric about later. Heâs a frat boy. All he wants is a good fuck and then heâs gone.Â
But why did he seem so hurt when you spoke to him so rudely? When you turned him away not once, but twice within the past three days.Â
You liked him, you really did! He was kind, thoughtful, and he was always helping anyone he could. He never refused to help anyone, even if it was a subject that he didnât know that well. Had you gotten it wrong? Was he just trying to talk to you and you had respondedâ
Your pen clicks again as you give up on the notes, and you lean back in your chair to squint at the whiteboard in front of you.Â
Talking with Eric Sohn was inevitable, but it was only a matter of how long you could avoid the topicâ
âI want all of you to pair up. These will be your partners for the midterm project.â
Ericâs gaze turns to you uneasily, tilting his head in question. You bite down hard on your tongue, fighting every urge inside of you to turn around and ask the girl behind you to be partners.Â
Fuck, how could you say no to those eyes?
Your room is brighter than Eric thought it would be. When you originally invited him over to study that night, he had been terrified. Was your apartment going to be almost falling apart? What if it was really nice and he broke something? What if you killed him and stuffed him into a dumpster?
Fortunately, none of those things were necessarily true. Your building wasnât falling apart, thankfully, although it was arguably nicer than any other off-campus apartments and you could still choose to kill him.Â
It was nice, though. It was a two-bedroom apartment that you shared with your friend Eunseung, one full bathroom and another half-bathroom, a decent kitchen, and a nice-sized living space. According to what you told him in the last semester, the rent wasnât too awful either.Â
The walls of your bedroom were yellow, but not an ugly shade of yellow. It was pastel, not quite bright enough to be harsh on the eyes but not dark enough to make it hard to see. Youâd lined bookshelves up to the wall, most filled with books but some with photos and plants and music albums. You had a small desk in the corner, and your bed was aligned with the center of the back wall, a light green comforter covering white sheets.Â
âIâm surprised weâve never studied here.â You hum, but your tone is distant. Eric laughs dryly and sets his bag down on the ground next to your bedframe.Â
âYou prefer the library,â he points out. âThe lighting is easier for your eyes.âÂ
For a moment, you pause in your motions. How did heâ
âHow did you know that?â You ask, turning to face him. You can see the flush in your partnerâs cheeks, and he ducks his head so that the baseball cap on his head covers his eyes.Â
âI justâ you would always squint when we studied at the library orâ or at the TBZ house. I justâŠI figured that was the reason.â I pay attention. Thatâs what you knew he meant.Â
Why does a boy who only wants to get into your pants care so much about you?
âOh.â You dig your laptop out of your bag and take a seat on your bed, leaning against your pillows with your legs straight out in front of you. Eric joins you, sitting crosslegged at the other end of the bed. Heâs careful not to get too close, shifting away from you when you adjust your position. Your skirt flares out to the side, ruffled by the blanket and exposing your thighs a bit more. Eric has to force his eyes to remain on his laptop. You notice, but thereâs no anger with it. You choose to not even acknowledge it.Â
âSo what do we wanna do for our project?â His eyes flick over to you, and you shrug.Â
âWe could build something?â You suggest. âMaybe, like, a paper airplane launcher?âÂ
He hums, tilting his head back and wrinkling his nose in thought.Â
âWhat about something with electromagnetism?â You nod slowly.Â
âThat could be good. We could keep with the idea of building something and make an electric motor with things people have lying around their houses?âÂ
Eric grins at you. âNow weâre thinking. Weâll have this done in no time at all.â
Eric was right.Â
The brainstorming and research portion of the project had been completed within a few hours, and the two of you had cast your laptops to the side to search your apartment for things to use. Paper clips, some sort of copper wire (you had no idea why anyone would have a copper wire hanging around their house. Eric, however, said that there were several around the frat house), wood, some batteries. Anything that the two of you could use. The only thing neither of you had was a staple gun.
âItâs getting late,â Eric notes with a quick glance toward your living room window. You hum in response, lying back on your couch with your phone in your hand. âI should get going soon.â
Your eyes flick to him, but he isnât looking at you. âDo you wanna stay the night?âÂ
Silence. A long moment of silence, and then Eric looks at you with a look nearing scandalized.Â
âWhat?â You sit up, draping your arms over the back of your couch and getting a better look at him.Â
âYou heard me.â His face is bright red, similar to the night of the party.Â
âWhy wouldâ why would I wantâ I mean thâ thank you for the offer butâ but I canât stay the night. Why wouldâ where would I even sleep? I donât have clothes to sleep in!â He throws every excuse he could possibly think of at you, adding to your amusement. He had no clothes, where would he sleep, you had classes earlier in the morning than him, it would be weird if he stayed the night. It was cute.Â
Youâll admit it, Eric was cute. The puppy-like look in his eyes, the pout on his lips. Everything about him was cute. It almost shocked you how fast you were able to get over the anger that he only wanted to sleep with you. In fact, you werenât sure thatâs what he even wanted from you. Only one way to find out, right?
âEric,â you finally cut off his rambling and his voice stops, leaving your apartment oddly quiet. âCome here.âÂ
He listens, slowly slinking toward you. Eric is nervous, you can tell. Every step he takes, every twitch when you shift your body. It fills you with pride, or maybe some other emotion.Â
Eric stops when heâs right in front of you, just a few steps from the back of the couch and both of you (really just him) are all too aware of how his crotch is level with your mouth.Â
âI wanna tell you something,â you beckon him toward you with one finger and he slowly, albeit a bit awkwardly as well, bends down so that his face is just above yours. Heat radiates off his face, so hot that you may start sweating soon. âDo you wanna know a secret?â
His Adamâs apple bobs, his hands gripping the couch for dear life, short nails digging into the cheap fabric.Â
âSure.â Ericâs voice is hoarse, and it makes you smile.Â
âI kinda like you, Eric.âÂ
Your lips press gently against his. Entirely experimental, just enough to see what he would do. His body seizes up, his breath hitching in his throat. He doesnât move against you, doesnât tilt his head or part his lips. He sits there like the lead in a lame drama where the main characters seem like they couldnât be less into each other. You begin to pull away from him, fearing youâd made him a bit uncomfortable, but a whine is pulled from his throat when your lips part from his.Â
You look at him, but heâs already looking at you with wide, bulging eyes.Â
âEricâŠâ You have a sneaking suspicion that you know why he didnât kiss you. âHave youâŠhas no one ever kissed you before?â
âWhat?â The boyâs voice is shrill, and you know the answer. âOfâ of course, Iâve been kissed? What kind of question is that?âÂ
Your lips quirk up. âAre you sure? Itâs nothing to be embarrassed about, you know.â
âWhatâ why would I be embarrassed?â His frustration and denial are cute. Adorable, really.Â
âBecause youâre a sophomore in college and have been kissed onceâ by your physics partner, no less.â You smirk playfully and then gasp, pushing up and toward him suddenly. He reels back, nearly falling backward with the suddenness of the motion. âEric Sohn! Are you a virgin?â
Eric looks like heâs about to cry from embarrassment, and he turns away from you completely. You grimace briefly and climb off the couch to come around and stand in front of him. He avoids your gaze by looking above you, around you, at the floor and the walls.Â
âEric,â your voice is gentle now. He doesnât move, nor does he make any noise. Heâs like a deer in headlights. âEric, can you look at me.â
âNo,â he denies, crossing his arms over his chest. You feel a bubble of amusement rising in your stomach. âYouâre just gonna make fun of me.â
âIâm not gonna make fun of you.â You promise, your hand grazing his forearm. Ericâs eyes lock with yours, and for once you choose to hold his gaze. âNow, can you tell me the truth so I can help you?âÂ
âHelp me,â he echoes with an air of offense. âI donât need help!â
âEric, youâre a sophomore in college whoâs in the most popular frat on the campus. Add onto that your personality and your good looks, you should be getting bitches left and right.â You say pointedly and the tips of his ears flush red. Or, rather, as red as they can when his whole face is burning up from your prior insinuations.Â
âWhat if Iâm just waiting for marriage?â He counters. âOrâ or the right person?â Your lips draw into a thin line, knowing that statement was bullshit.Â
âWe both know you wouldnât be hard as a rock right now if that was the case.â
Ericâs heart plummets to the ground, his eyes following it to check for himself. To his complete and utter dismay, you werenât lying. Pressing against the front of his cargo pants was the solid outline of his member, straining against the seam and begging to be released.Â
âIâ I am soâ so sorry,â he stammers, his hands yanking the edge of his sweatshirt down to cover himself, his hands remaining carefully placed over his crotch but he knows itâs too late. âI didnâtâ I donâtâ oh my god Iâm so sorry, Y/N.â
âItâs fine,â you reassure him, holding tightly onto his sleeve so he canât run for the door. âI knew you wanted to sleep with me, it was kind of obvious.â
âNo Iâ I donât wantââ Eric frantically shakes his head. âI donâtâ I canâtâ I donât wanna sleep with youâ I mean I do, I really really do, but notâ not like thisââ
The hand on his sleeve comes up to grab his cheeks, squeezing them together until his lips are pushed out and he canât speak anymore.Â
âYou can admit it, Eric.â You hum, and with your hand still on his face, you begin to walk him back and around to the side of the couch. He yelps when you push him back, letting go of his face and watching him fall over the arm and land with an oof on the cushions. âYou can admit that you wanted to fuck me from the moment you saw me.â
âBut Iââ He choked on spit before he could finish talking, eyes widening into saucers when you climbed onto the couch, crawling up to sit on his lap. Heâs sitting up straight now, but the risk of falling back again is high with nothing to support his spine. Your hands just rest on his shoulders, not digging in or moving to grasp anything else. They stay there, waiting for him to make the first move.Â
âTell me if you donât want me to continue, Eric.â His hands are trembling, his pulse higher than itâs ever been. He slowly rotates his body, placing his feet firmly on the ground and resting his spine against the back of the couch so that he doesnât hurt either of you.Â
âI wantââ his voice cracks.Â
âWhat do you want?â Your lips are on his neck, featherlight kisses being left in your wake and knocking the breath out of him. Heâd never felt like this, heâd never been touched like this save for his own hand in the darkness of his room with an animated video on loop on his laptop screen. At his lack of response, you pull your lips back from his neck. Eric lets out a loud whine at this, his left hand coming to the back of your head to lightly try and push you back into him.Â
âKeep doing that,â he gasps out, and you smile.Â
âDonât you want me to kiss you?â You ask him, and another whine tumbles from his lips.
âIâ fuck, I doâ god, why are you doing this to me?â
âI just wanna know what you want, Eric,â youâre teasing him and you know it, but youâre pretty sure Eric might fall to pieces if you donât give him something soon. âCanât you tell me what you want?âÂ
âJustââ he leans his head back, and you watch the rapid bobbing of his throat as he tries to swallow and take in air and do anything to calm himself down. âJust do something.â
âWhatâs the magic word?â He raises his head, gasping when he finds your lips suddenly inches from his own.Â
âPleâ please?â Your lips quirk up.
âActually, it wasââ
You donât get the chance to tease him anymore. He crushes your lips together with so much force that it almost hurts. Thereâs nothing coherent about the way he kisses you, although you could hardly call it a kiss at all. It was more him putting his mouth against yours, tilting his head, and squeezing his eyes shut. Itâs clear from the moment it started that heâs never been kissed before and that knowledge has you squirming in his lap.Â
âEric,â youâve barely pulled back and heâs chasing your lips as if youâre a glass of his favorite wine. âEric, hold on.â
âWhy?â His eyes flutter open and you have to force yourself not to kiss him senseless, even if he has no idea what heâs doing.
âJustââ You inhale deeply and the scent of his cologne begins to overwhelm your senses, practically intoxicating you. âYouâve never kissed anyone before.âÂ
He nods, his previous embarrassment returning when you say that. âI meanâŠYeah, Iâ I havenât. But IâIâve used WikiHowââ
âItâs okay,â you cut him off and choose to ignore the comment about WikiHow, pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. âJust follow my lead.âÂ
When he nods, you press your lips against his again. This time, itâs more fluid. Itâs easier for you to kiss him when heâs copying your movements. Itâs still awkward, your teeth smacking together painfully, but you can tell heâs getting used to the feeling. Youâre able to part your lips against his, to open your mouth just enough for your tongue to slip out and brush against his lower lip. His whole body jolts, his hands digging into the fabric of your skirt hard enough that your skin would be bruised the next day. His hips roll up against yours, drawing a heady moan out of you.Â
When Eric parts from you, his eyes are hazy. âDidâ did you like when I did that?âÂ
âYes,â you groan and begin to roll your hips down into his, watching the way his eyes roll into the back of his head and his back arches off the couch.Â
âF-Fuck, okay,â He screws his eyes shut again, lips completely parted as the two of you begin to hump into each other like some damn animals. Your lips meld together again, and you let your tongue slither into his mouth. Itâs obvious that Eric has no idea what to do with his tongueâ pushing against yours aggressively, shoving it to the side, and trying to push his into your mouthâ but as the minutes pass, he begins to understand what to do. He begins to understand what makes your body react positively and what has you unintentionally cringing away from him.Â
Your lips part from his one more time but you hardly give him time to complain before you place a kiss on his cheek, then the corner of his jaw, and then right below his ear. He emits a nearly wild moan at this, his hips jerking up into yours in such a way that his bulge presses against your clit and punches a moan out of you. Being the quick learner that he is, Eric adjusts his position and rolls his hips up again and again and again, addicted to the way you sound and feel against him.Â
âEric,â you whine, parting from his neck. âEric, oh my god.âÂ
He just huffs into your collarbone, licking and sucking and trying desperately to not cum too soon, but you just feel so good against him that he just canât help it.Â
His hips stutter against yours, and he moans so loud you fear that the neighbors hear it. You let him continue to grind into you, to work himself through his orgasm as your slips back and escapes you. It doesnât matter, youâd get yourself when he leavesâ
âYou didnât cum.âÂ
âWhat?â You blink dumbly at him, and Eric begins to pout.Â
âYou didnâtâ you didnât cum. You shouldâve told me. I wouldâve held off!â You knew that wasnât true. He could barely hold himself together from a few kisses, what made him think heâd be able to hold himself off until you came?Â
âItâs fine, Eric.â You reassure him, but heâs having none of it. You canât stop him from lifting you off his hips and settling you against the couch cushions. WellâŠyou probably could, but you wanted to see where this went.Â
You watch as he unceremoniously yanks down your panties, not bothering with your skirt whether out of impatience or because he liked seeing you in it.Â
âDo you even know what youâre doing?â Eric peers up at you, a boyish smile on his face.Â
âCanât be that hard, right?â You laugh, choosing not to argue with him. Youâd tell him, when it came time, where your clit is but for now? Youâd let him work things out for himself.Â
Your body shudders when Eric takes his first taste, licking from the bottom to the top of your pussy. Youâre amazed that he didnât accidentally go too far down like most (slightly more experienced) men have. Itâs almost impressive how much attention he pays to your quivering body, and you flip your skirt up so you can see his face buried into you. Every lick draws out a moan from both of you, and you can see him starting to roll his hips down onto the couch.Â
âFuck,â his words are muffled by your cunt, and vile slurping noises accompany him. âCould get addicted to the taste of you.â
âMm, feels good, Eric.â Your eyes flutter shut, one of your hands slipping down to tangle in his blonde strands of hair and tugging him up slightly. Your other hand taps at your clit lightly, making your body jolt a bit. âHere. Thisâ fuckâ feels good here.â
âThatâs it?â He drops his head down again, swatting your hand out of the way to replace it with his own. His touch is much rougher than yours, his hands thick and calloused compared to your delicate ones. âRight here?âÂ
You whine for him, and he has to bite on his tongue to not cum again so fast. Heâs quick to attach his mouth to your clit, sucking violently and swiping his tongue against it. If you werenât impressed by him before, you most certainly were now. It hadnât taken him long at all to figure out what felt good for you. Reading your mind and body was almost second nature to him, it seemed, and it became abundantly clear when your orgasm began to rise again.
âClose, Eric!â You gasped out, âIâm close!â
He groans against you, catching your hips in his hands when they begin to roll into his face. Eric wanted to drown in you. He wanted to feel you shake around him for the rest of his damn life. He wanted to hear you screaming his name until your throat was raw and your voice was gone.Â
And the sight of you cumming on his face, your essence soaking his chin and dripping onto his sweatshirt?Â
If he could stay glued to you for the rest of his life, he fucking would.
Becoming a habit came easy for you and Eric. Youâre not dating, but youâre unsure of whether the puppy-like boy cares or not. You discovered very quickly that he would do anything for you, would learn anything for you. Youâd successfully taught him how to kiss a girl without looking like a dumbass (i.e. the straight-face-to-sudden-kiss scenario youâd faced too many times to count), how to finger you and hit all the right spots, where not to put his mouth and fingers unless explicitly told otherwise. There was, of course, your next problem.
Eric refused to put his dick in you.
You knew he was clean, both of you had gotten tested when you originally began screwing around. You knew he liked you, that much was obvious. He looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky, he told you how much he loved you every time you gave him head. He justâŠnever went farther than that. Was he scared? Did he not want you as bad as you (very clearly) wanted him? It made you nauseous to think about, but it was getting frustrating how all you two did was make out, grind on each other like teenagers, and give each other head every time you saw each other. Shitâ he was even fine with fingering you underneath the table in your lecture the other day!Â
Thatâs why you developed a plan. Here you were, standing outside of the Tau Beta Zeta frat house under the guise of needing to work on your project (which wasnât necessarily a lie) but really planning on getting him to finally fuck you. Yes, you were aware of the fact that he was a virgin but it was obvious from the start that he didnât give a shit about that.
Unless he did. Your hand pauses just inches from the door, but you shake your head to clear the anxious thought and you knock on the door.Â
One, two, threeâŠone, two threeâŠoneâ
On the third round of knocks, a boy swings the door open. His eyes are wide, his hair in disarray.Â
âHi.â You wave your hand with a smile, but the boy just stands there with a dumb look on his face. Were all the TBZ boys like this?Â
ââŠHi?â He says it in the form of a question, which draws a laugh out of you.Â
âIâm Y/N.â
ââŠSunwooâŠâÂ
âOh, the star soccer player, right?â He nods and you grin. âI saw your last game, the one where your girlfriendâ Iâm assuming girlfriendâ knocked some sense into you. You really killed it out there!â
âThank youâŠuhâŠcanâ can I help you?â You rock back and forth on your heels, biting at your lip in thought. The idea of wearing a skirt is choosing to bite you in the ass as a cold breeze picks up.Â
âIâm here for Eric, actually. UmâŠEric Sohn? I think he lives here, right?â Sunwooâs jaw drops, his head dipping down as well and he steps to the side to let you in. You smile, using your feet to pull your shoes off as you step into the entryway. You see a pile of shoes to your left, the larger menâs pairs shoved into a large pile while some smaller womenâs shoes sit neatly. You canât help but wonder if it was the girlfriends that did this or if one of the frat members cares a bit more about them than the others.Â
âHeâsâŠheâs on the second floor, third door on the leftâŠâ You thank Sunwoo, ignoring how he follows you with obvious confusion and awe. Another boy passes by you, staring in confusion but ends up in the same state as the soccer player when he explains the situation.Â
You knock before you enter Ericâs room, rocking on your heels again as you wait for some sort of response. You get none, and when you go to interrupt him, the second boy stops you.Â
âHi, um, Iâm Haknyeonâ you can call me Hak, thoughâ Ericâsâ heâsâ heâs gaming. You can just go in because thereâs no way youâre gonna get his attention byâ by, umâ yeah.â He stumbles over his words in an almost incomprehensible way, but you get the basic idea.Â
âThanks, Hak,â you dip your head and twist the doorknob. Sunwoo and Hak both watch you enter the room, only snapping out of their daze when you shut the door tightly behind you.Â
âYouâŠyou saw that too, right?â Haknyeon grabs Sunwoo by the shoulder with a grin on his face.
âMy best friendâŠâ Sunwooâs voice is quiet with confusion. âHeâsâŠheâs getting bitches?â
âWhat did I say about saying that,â his girlfriend pops around the corner with a scowl on her face. Sunwooâs face lights up, but it disappears at the scolding gaze she gives him.
âSorry, baby,â he pouts and she rolls her eyes. âI just wasnât expecting it.â
âGive them some damn privacy,â she clicks her tongue, eyeing the door. âLord knows theyâre probably gonna need it.â
Eric is facing a large gaming setup when you enter the room. You can see the dark polo sweater which is partially unzipped to reveal some of his chest, the beige hat, and the khaki combo he had, unfortunately, chosen to wear today (youâre going to have to update his closet soon, whether you date him or not. You have to save the next girl heâs with). The lights, shockingly, are purple rather than the red you had expected. You can see expensive monitors and a keyboard, all of which are cleaner than any other gamerâs setup that youâd seen. In fact, his whole room is so much cleaner than you had ever given him credit for. Youâd expected to see something absolutely filthy, but Eric never fails to shock you.
What doesnât shock you, however?
Five Nights At Freddyâs playing on the screens.
You clear your throat, and he barely even spares a glance at you. You wonder if he even recognized that it was youâ
âYo, Y/N!â Oh god, this might not go as planned. âYouâre early!âÂ
âFigured Iâd come by to hang out before we got started on the paper.â You come up behind him, dropping your bag and jacket by the edge of the bed, revealing the black sheer top youâd chosen to go with your white skirt. Youâd also chosen the perfume you know gets his attention the most, the one that always has him practically gluing his face to your neck.Â
That doesnât happen this time. He stays glued to his game, his legs spread wide open and tongue sticking out from the corner of his lips.Â
âFeelâ fuck!â His body jerks when an animatronic (Foxy, maybe?) comes out of a vent and gives him barely enough time to start protecting himself. âFeel free to make yourself comfortable, I might take a while.â
You hum, not moving from your spot. Your hands are on the back of his gaming chair, your eyes focused on the screen with fake intrigue. He doesnât acknowledge you, so you let your hands begin to sink onto his shoulders. His chin tilts toward you a bit, but he corrects himself and goes back to ignoring you even when your nails graze the skin of his collarbone.Â
âWhat are you doing?â Eric asks, but itâs more dismissive than anything.Â
âJust watching you play,â you reply with a sly grin. Another jumpscare appears, and he grunts when you intentionally dig your nails into him (something youâve learned he loves over the past two weeks).Â
Part two of your scheme begins when you sink to your knees beside Eric and slip under his desk. This grabs his attention. Eric watches as you get comfortable, no longer paying attention to the screens in front of him when you run your hands up his thighs, grazing the button of his khaki pants.Â
âY/N, thisââ his breath catches in his throat when you finally undo the button and pull the zipper down. You can see his member already hardening, twitching in his boxers. âYou donât have toâ I donâtâ whyââ
âJusâ play your game, baby.â You purr, your fingers hooking under the band of his boxers to tug them and his pants down at the same time. His jaw is hanging open, eyes wide with awe, but you stop your movements. âPlay your game, Eric, or Iâm leaving.â
His response is immediate, sliding his chair closer to you and lifting his hips to let you work. Your smirk is wide, and you yank his clothing down in one go, letting them rest around his ankles. Ericâs knee begins to bounce, and you rest your hand on top of it to steady him. His member, in just a few moments, has completely hardened. You can see the slick precum beginning to leak from his tip, and you lower your mouth to catch each drop on his tongue.Â
The moan he emits is loud, and you pull your mouth back just an inch to dig your nails into his thigh.
âStay quiet and donât cum unless I say so.â He whimpers in response, and you bring your mouth back onto him. You begin by suckling at his tip, letting your tongue swirl around him like a lollypop, and listening to his barely restrained moans. You hear clicking and tapping on his keyboard, as well as random noises from the game
You take him a little deeper and his thighs tense, but heâs good at staying quiet. Heâs good even when his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag around him. Even when you take him so deep that youâre choking on him and spit is dripping from your mouth and onto his skin. Even when you begin hollowing your mouth and bobbing your head, and swallowing around him a few times when you take him all the way down so your nose is against his pelvis.Â
Another jumpscare and his hips jerk and force him farther down your throat. You moan around him, your eyes rolling back at the feeling, and that elicits a whine from him.
âY/N,â he pleads. âIâve been s-so good for yoâyou right? Havenâtâ Havenât I been good? Pleâplease let me cum. Jusâ wanna cum, please?âÂ
Eric sees you look up at him through your eyelashes, and just the sight of you slobbering all over him has his eyes rolling back in his head.
Then you pull off him completely, leaving his dick twitching and lonely against his stomach.Â
âWhy didâ why did you pull off?â His eyes are dazed, and you flash a coy smile at him.Â
âI told you to pay attention to the game, didnât I?âÂ
âIâ yeah, you did butâ but I justâ youââ Eric is tearing up as you begin to push your body out from under the desk to stand in front of him.Â
âPoor baby,â you cup his cheek and your stomach churns when he leans into your palm with a sigh. âShouldâve just paid attention and beat the night, then, hm?âÂ
âPlease,â he whines, leaving little kisses on your palm and working his way to your wrist, your forearm, your elbow, and then heâs pulling you onto his lap so youâre nearly sitting on his dick. You can feel it pulsing against your core, and you canât help the tiny rolls of your hips to gain some sort of friction. âPlease, justâ IâllâŠIâll do anything you want. Iâllâ Iâll eat you out, Iâll finger you, fuck, Iâllâ Iâll let you sit on my face if thatâs what you want.â
You hum, tapping your fingers against his chest in thought. âWhat if I want you to fuck me?âÂ
His body tenses and his cheeks begin to flush, his eyes refusing to meet yours.Â
âEric,â you say softly, moving your hand to his chin and forcing him to look at you. âEric, talk to me.â
âIâ I donâtââ
âIâm not gonna force you to do anything, Eric,â you reassure him, stopping the ministrations of your hips and bringing your free hand to the side of his neck. âI just want to know why. I want to understand. Do youâ do you not want me? Do you wanna save yourself for another girl?âÂ
âNo!â He snaps, his voice a bit harsher than heâd intended for it to come out but it has you flinching away from him. In a moment of panic, he brings his hands to your waist and tugs you closer to him. âIâ sorry. Itâs notâ itâs not that at all.â
âThen why?â Your hands are playing with the ends of his blonde hair, and Eric swallows once. Twice. And then he tucks his head into your shoulder.Â
âIâŠI donât know.âÂ
You nod, disappointment filling you, but you donât let it show.Â
âLetâs work on the project.â You slide off his lap, ignoring the somewhat heartbroken gaze he shoots you. âThe paper is due in a couple of days, so I grabbed a few sources and drafted an outline.â
For a moment, he doesnât say anything. He just tucks his member back into his pants and comes to join you on his bed. The air is tense and you know he wants to say something. You wait for him to say it.Â
He doesnât.
âEric, youâre fucking stupid.â Sunwoo throws himself onto his best friendâs bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of Eric hitting his head on his desk.
âI knowâŠâ
âI mean, we already knew this from previous incidents. Ahem, giving my then-crush-now-girlfriend a concussion. But holy shit I thought it couldnât possibly get any worse than that.â
âI know!â Eric whines, sitting heavily on the gaming chair heâd gotten head on almost four hours ago, and could have gotten laid in had he not been a damn moron.
âI mean, youâve been trying to get laid by this chick for how long? And you cockblocked yourself becauseâŠâ Sunwoo trails off, his eyebrows knitting together as he sits up. âWait, why did you cockblock yourself?â
âI donât know, man!â Eric huffs and leans his head back. âFuck, she was so nice about it too. Too nice. I know damn well sheâs pissed at me but sheâs too fucking nice to say anything.â
âWell yeah,â Sunwoo shrugs. âSex 101â donât force yourself onto anyone. Hello? Why would she do that to you?â
Eric crosses his arms over his chest, using his feet to spin his chair back and forth lightly. You had been really sweet about everything. You couldâve gotten mad at him, especially since this wasnât the first time this had happened, but you didnât. You wanted him to be ready.Â
And he was. He was so ready! He justâ he gets nervous around you! What if heâs a disappointment? What if heâs so bad that you have to fake an orgasm? What if he doesnât fit? What if he hurts you?
âEric,â Sunwoo claps his hands together to snap Eric out of his thoughts. âStop getting distracted while Iâm trying to help you in a way that wonât lead to injuries.âÂ
The poor, self-cockblocked boy lifts his head with a pout.Â
âThereâs a party this weekend, right?âÂ
âYeahâŠâ Eric tilts his head.
âMake sure sheâs there. Use whatever excuse you need to, and make sure she shows up. Then, ask her to talk. Go somewhere private, talk to her, tell her youâre ready, and then fuck until the sun comes up.â Sunwoo claps again, throwing his out to the side in a cocky I just made the best plan ever manner. âFirst of all, gets you laid, second of allâ free revenge on Sangyeon.â
Eric drums his fingers against his legs in thought. The plan was good, heâd admit that. Of course, not out loud. No, he would never let Sunwoo know that he was right about something.
âFine,â Eric agrees. âBut if shit goes south, itâs your fault.â
âDeal,â Sunwoo grins mischievously. âAnd if shit goes right, you owe me and my girlfriend dinner.â
âDeal.â
Eric doesnât see you at all that week, something that has him nearly crying on the ground in Sangyeonâs bedroom. Heâd texted you, asked if you were okay, sent you notes, told you about the party but didnât outright invite you. Nothing. No sign of you in lectures, no texts from you aside from a confirmation that youâd submit your written portion of the midterm.
âTake a damn breath.â Sangyeon rolls his eyes and tugs a formfitting black mock-neck shirt over his head, sliding a silver chain around his neck afterward. âSheâs probably busy.â
âBut she never goes this long without texting me! Or being in a lecture!â The youngest member of the frat holds his head in his hands, staring down at the white buttondown shirt that hung somewhat loosely on his body.Â
âMaybe she hates you, I donât know!â Sangyeon exclaims. âStop bothering me about it!â Eric pouts up at the TBZ president.
âBut you know how to handle these things!â
âNot when youâre on my ass about it all day every day for a week straight.â Sangyeonâs lip curls and Eric huffs, laying back on the hardwood floor. âDude, just be patient. Who knows, maybe she was sick? Maybe sheâll show up today and youâll get laid. Just. Be. Patient.â
And patient he was.Â
He lurked around the party, a drink in his hand and a ripped red baseball cap covering his head and shielding his red-rimmed eyes from the public. They didnât need to know heâd cried over his two-year-long crush ghosting him.Â
âWho pissed in your cheerios?â He turns his body slowly, ready to crack a corny joke, and walk away from whoever yelled in his ear, but he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. Youâre in another tiny little black skirt and a black bralette that was used as a poor excuse for a shirt with a leather jacket thrown over it. He nearly crumbles in front of you, ready to worship you and the ground you walk on, ready to take you in front of all these people so they know that heâs yours.
âOh my god.âÂ
You laugh at the dumbstruck look in his eyes, at the way his eyes are stuck on your chest, and the way your bralette pushes your boobs up just enough to catch attention.Â
âYou okay, Eric?â Your hand is on his arm, and in an instant his cup is thrown to the side and his lips are on yours, his tongue shoved into your mouth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, and, really, the suddenness of it all, but you donât complain. You love how frantic he is for you, love how heâs ready to risk it all after just a week of not seeing you.Â
When he parts from you, thereâs a string of spit connecting your lips that only breaks when you swipe your thumb across his lip.Â
âHowâs that for a hello?â You say just loud enough for him to hear it.Â
âWe need to talk.â
âWe do.â You confirm, but his lips are on yours again, and youâre so glad that everyone is distracted by a game of beer pong on the other side of the room. You let your eyes flutter shut, moaning into his mouth when he pushes his tongue against yours. They dance together, swirling around each other but not fighting for dominance. No, this kiss isnât about that. This is two people being addicted to the taste of each other, two people who could never get enough of what the other has to offer.Â
You have to force yourself to part from him, turning away so you can find somewhere more privateâ preferably his bedroom. He doesnât stray from you, gluing his lips to the side of your neck as you try to weave through the crowd. Itâs not easy, especially with Eric on you and refusing to let go, but you donât mind.Â
Not when he shoves you against his dresser as soon as his bedroom door is shut and locked.Â
The handles of the drawers dig against your spine, but youâre too distracted by Ericâs lips on your chest to care. His hat is missing, likely somewhere on the staircase. Your jacket has been thrown to the opposite side of the room, the straps of your bralette shoved down and both breasts freed from its confines so Eric can lick and suck and bite at the soft mounds.Â
âEric,â you moan out, arching your back into his hunched form. He groans against you, sucking hard at your nipple and eliciting a loud moan from you. âEric, pick me up.âÂ
Without even pulling away, he does, plopping you unceremoniously onto his dresser and moving his lips to the other breast, replacing his mouth with his hand. Your hand comes to the back of his head, and you find yourself smiling at the desperation your lover shows.Â
âMissed me that much, huh?â Your composure is crumbling, but you donât care. âMight have to disappear more often.â
He rips away from your chest, eyes narrowed into a glare. âDonât even joke about that. I thought you died.â
You kiss him again, both hands holding his face to yours, and your legs wrap around his waist. Ericâs hands find your thighs and he lifts you off the dresser. He sucks on your tongue, biting on your lip when you start to pull away and you whimper at the sting of pain.Â
âThought I died, hm?â You brush back the blonde strands of hair covering his sweaty forehead and smirk. âItâs a good thing I didnât then, hm? What would you have done? Fucked your fist for the rest of your life?âÂ
A muscle in his jaw feathers and he throws you down on his bed. You yelp, eyes widening at the personality change. A week ago, he wouldâve been begging you for any touch, wouldâve been falling apart just for one look at your dripping pussy. But now?
Now he looks like a starved animal, and youâre the first helpless creature heâs seen in weeks.Â
âEric,â you warn, watching him unbutton his shirt. âRemember what I said.âÂ
He eyes you, smirking at the way your jaw drops when his shirt hits the floor. Itâs odd, isnât it? Youâd probably been bare in front of him countless times but youâd hardly seen him with his pants down.
âHoly fuck.â You stare at his torso, at the chiseled abs and biceps, at the veins in his arms, at the trail of hair leading down to his dick. âYouâreâ youâre fucking shredded.â
âShredded?â He quirks an eyebrow, undoing his belt and the button of his pants so he can push them down and kick them to the side. âThatâs the first word you thought of?â
âWellââ you clear your throat and turn your gaze away from him. âI meanâ you are.â
âCute,â He coos and crawls over you, hooking his fingers into the hem of your skirt. âMay I?â
âYou may,â you look at him again, then down his body and swallow hard at the sight of him. Youâve seen him many times. Youâve held him in your hand, in your mouth. You know what to expect.
So why does it make you so nervous now?
âYouâre getting distracted,â Eric kisses his teeth, lowering his face to yours but not kissing you. He traces his nose across your cheek, light kisses from his lips going with it. His nose nudges against your jaw, urging you to tilt your jaw up so he can kiss you there. You do, and his lips feel like fire against your skin. âI thought you liked it when people pay attention?â
âIâ I do!â You gasp out, and Eric laughs against your skin. Where the fuck is all this confidence coming from?Â
âThen why arenât you paying attention to me?â His fingers press against your sopping-wet entrance and you lift your hips in a weak attempt to get them inside of you.Â
âI am!â Tears are welling in your eyes. âI am paying attention to you, Eric, please!â
He juts out his lip in a mocking pout, using the hand thatâs not against your heat to wipe the tears away.Â
âOkay baby,â he says softly, sinking two thick, calloused fingers into you. âDonât cry, not yet.âÂ
The intrusion has you crying out and Eric does his best to hush you, to soothe you, and then heâs thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace. Your fingers cling to his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense and shift with every movement of his arm. Eric grins when your eyes finally flutter shut, when you finally give in to him. He praises you when he slips a third finger into your core, and then a fourth. He praises you as he works you through the sting, curling his fingers gently to search for the spot he knows would have you falling to pieces under him.Â
Eric finds it easily and is oh so pleased by your wail of his name. He grins almost maliciously, when you begin to shake, when your body begins to thrash, and your nails dig into his shoulders and drag down his back.Â
âAlways so easy for me,â he hums, staring in awe at the wrinkle between your eyebrows and how your tongue practically hangs out of your mouth. When he knows youâre about to cum, he crushes his lips against yours again and begins to move his hand faster. Youâre sobbing into his mouth, unable to kiss him back between your cries and moans, but Eric doesnât mind.Â
He lets you grind against his hand until youâre not shaking anymore. Then, and only then, does he pull his fingers out of you, watching with curious satisfaction as your cum drips from his fingers and onto the blanket below you.Â
âDonâtâ donât sit there staring at that shit.â you hiss, but Eric just smiles.Â
âSo you can speak coherently now?âÂ
âShut up and fuck me already, or do you need me to teach you how to do that too?âÂ
Ericâs gaze hardens, his tongue pushing against his cheek. You push yourself to sit up, but Eric pushes you right back down and uses his hands to push your legs apart.Â
âI donât need you to teach me anything,â he grunts, lining his member up with your entrance.Â
âReally? Thatâs not what it looked like three weeks agâoh fuck!â Your back arches off the bed when he suddenly sinks into you. Four fingers seem to have been just barely enough, the sting fading just as fast as it came. Or maybe you just like the pain so much it turned into pleasure. Whatever the reason, youâre quick to tell Eric to pick up the pace.Â
Youâre both shocked and impressed by the movement of his hips. He alternates between smooth, sharp rolls and harsh, pointed thrusts that have your body forced up the bed and the headboard knocking against the wall.
âYou think I need your help?â Eric growls, digging his hands into your thighs and spreading them farther apart, lifting the lower half of your body a bit to change the angle. This brings a new pleasure to both of you. Something that youâve never felt before, and has your mind reeling. âI didnât need you. I wanted you. I wanted every part of you. I craved you, craved your taste. It was pure fucking luck that you wanted me too.â
âEric,â You gasp out, sinking your teeth into the side of his neck to leave another mark on his skin. âEric, feels so good, god it feels so good please, please donât stop. Donât stop, oh my god!â
âLook at you,â he yanks your head out of his neck by your hair, staring down at your fucked out face as he continues to plow into you with no remorse. âAll fucked out for me. I did this. Your little virgin boy. Isnât it embarrassing?âÂ
You whine in response but apparently, that isnât what heâs looking for because he slows down at your lack of response.Â
âAnswer me,â he hisses.
âIâ I donâtâ Eric I donâtââ You donât even know what heâs trying to ask. You stopped listening as soon as he pulled your hair, the sting of it feeling too good. Eric laughs, picking up his pace again and dropping your head back down onto his pillows.Â
âWhat? Too fucked out to answer me? Who wouldâve thought that I was the virgin and not you? What would people think if they walked in here and saw me fucking you like this?â He doesnât expect an answer this time, not that youâd be able to give him one anyway.Â
Your legs draw tightly around his slim waist, holding him close as your orgasm approaches again, but Eric doesnât seem to be even close to cumming. Even when your second orgasm washes over you, and then your third. He fucks you through each one, sweat dripping from his hair and down his torso until his body is sliding against yours. Your body feels numb, but at the same time, you can feel everything. Every drag of his length against your walls, every punch of his tip against your cervix. Your arms curl around his neck, but your grip is loose.Â
When Ericâs hips finally begin to stutter, youâre about four orgasms in, the fifth about to wash over you. Your voice is hoarse, a puddle of drool on the pillow under your head. You canât find it in you to make any more noise, just gasping breathes and quiet whines. You cum together, and the feeling of his cum filling you has your back arching again. This time, Eric catches you and holds your body against his. He kisses you gently, uncaring that you can barely breathe let alone kiss him.Â
âThatâ that was a good talk,â he jokes, and you say nothing at first. âUmâŠareâ are you okay?âÂ
âYou justââ you clear your throat, but it does nothing. âYou just fucked me within an inch of my life, as a completely inexperienced virgin, and youâre asking me if Iâm okay?âÂ
Eric frowns, settling down on top of you, but careful not to lay his full weight onto your obviously aching body. He can see the bruises heâd left all over youâ on your chest, your neck, your hips. Anywhere his lips or hands touched, there was a bruise left in his wake. He imagines, however, that he looks no different. He can feel the scratches you left on his back, marring every inch of his skin and likely drawing a bit of blood, he can see a hickey on his arm that you left at some point and can imagine how the front of his body looks.
âSoâŠso youâre not okay?â He tries and you huff, throwing an arm over your eyes.Â
âEric, I love you, but youâre such a dumbass.â You groan, shoving him off your body so you can breathe properly. âGo draw a bath. Iâm gonna need one after that shit.â
âBefore I do, can you answer one question?â You pry your eyes open to scowl at him and his damn puppy-like eyes.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âAre weâ are we dating now?âÂ
âWe wonât be for long if you donât get that fucking bath going.âÂ
âAw, yeah!â Eric cheers, jumping off the bed and running to the bathroom to start the bath like you asked. âGuess who isnât single anymore, Sunwoo!â
âWhatâs your problem?â Haknyeon peers at Sangyeon over the lip of his mug. The frat president is glaring at you and Eric with something murderous in his eyes, which seem to have dark bags under them.
âMy bedroom is right next to Ericâs.â Haknyeon raises an eyebrow, and Sangyeon clears his throat. âMy bedroom is next to Ericâs.â
âOkayâŠoh. OH. Oh, shit man, Iâm sorry.â Haknyeon turns his gaze to the two of you, grimacing at the thought of how long Sangyeon could have been kept up, but smiling when he sees how the two of you are cuddled on the couch. The grimace returns when he sees the state of your necks, neither of you having bothered to hide what you did to each other.Â
âI mean,â Sunwoo sits on the counter, a bowl of cereal in his hand. âYou kinda deserved it after what you did to him.â
âWhat the fuckâ what did I do to him?â Sangyeon exclaims, and Sunwoo quirks an eyebrow.Â
âYou fucked your girlfriend for, what, seven rounds straight? The poor man didnât get any sleep that night. Be glad you were able to rest after that.â
Haknyeon raises his cup, and the three frat boys return to âsubtlyâ watching the two of you.
âDo you at least know if he was good? You know, for a virgin.â
âOh my fucking god, Sunwoo, shut up.â
âYou shut up, Hak! It was just a question!â
âYou two are fucking nasty,â Sangyeonâs lip curls into a sneer, trying to block out the memories of last night. âBut Iâm gonna need a shit ton of bleach if I wanna forget that bullshit.â
âHot.â
âSunwoo, shut UP!â
© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.
#blackoutorbackoutđ»#itsbeeble#reese's moots đ©”#reese's works đ©#reese's pieces đïž#fawn~ đ§Œ#ally~ âïž#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop fluff#kpop smut#the boyz#the boyz x reader#the boyz smut#the boyz imagines#the boyz fluff#eric sohn#eric sohn x reader#eric sohn smut#eric sohn imagines#eric sohn fluff#eric sohn the boyz#tbz eric sohn
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imprimatura / muses
Johnny "Soap" MacTavish shows up one day to model for your studio class. He's flirtatious, too attractive for his own good, and more interested in you than you'd ever expect him to be. And his boyfriend Ghost is interested too. - ao3
He arrives early as youâre setting up for your students, in jeans and a tight t-shirt, and the first thing that crosses your mind when you lay eyes on him is Jesus, heâs fit.Â
You are no stranger to bodies. Hundreds of them have cycled through your studio, all shapes and sizes and colors; you think you may know every dip, every roll, every hard angle and soft curve that a human body is capable of holding. The mystique of defined muscle has long lost its novelty. Bodies are bodies, and each holds the same value as the next when subject to brush and canvas. It never matters, you teach your students, what a body looks like in the modeling chair. It only matters if they can reproduce it accurately.
Even so, when a body like this walks in, you really canât help but take notice.
Decadent muscle, fed and worked well, round and full with hydration. Itâs impossible to miss, even through his clothes; each group delineated clearly, gracefully, as if sculpted rather than built, and alive with soft, subcutaneous movement. Itâs indulgent to look at, the comfortable breadth of his shoulders and chest down to that slight taper of his waist and bulk of his thick thighs. Itâs a physique no hard-bodied gym rat could hope to achieve merely with extra time at the racksâa physique that is easily, harmoniously attractive in its makeup of muscle and healthy fat.
The man is also mohawked and suntanned, and his mouth rests at an angle that suggests he often smilesâas if he knows that Michelangelo would have swooned at the sight of him. He comes into your classroom, saunters over to you, and stops precisely two paces away from you.
âSergeant John MacTavish,â he says, offering his hand. âI understand youâre the instructor?â
He has gorgeous, vivid blue eyes (pthalo and cremnitz, with a touch of hamsa). You blink several times. Fit is still rattling around your skull, and begins knocking against sergeant at the same rolling frequency as his warm Scottish brogue. You realize his hand is still outstretched and quickly take it to shake.
âYes!â you say. His palm is tough, callused, and not soft in the slightest, but very warm. âNice to meet you, sergeant.â
He gives a grimace. âJohnâs fine. Or Soap.â
âSoap?â
âNickname, yâknow.â
Neither of you have released from the handshake. Soapâs grip is firm, the kind of firm that suggests he can squeeze much, much tighter if he needs to. And if the grip isnât any indication, the broad forearms, dusted soft with dark brown hair, certainly are.
Black lines, a sword and helmet framed in laurels, catch your notice. The ink has the soft edges of having lain in the skin for a few years. You turn his arm to see it more fully. âOh. Nice tattoo.â
He looks at the ink as if it is entirely new to him, and then gives an easy grin. âThanks. Iâve got a few more too. Hope they arenât hard to draw.â
When you loosen your grip on his hand, he releases you immediately. You still feel the squeeze in your bones even as you drop your hand to your side.
âSo, then, Soap,â you say, âhave you ever modeled before?â
He shakes his head, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his low-slung jeans. It tugs the waistband just a bit, revealing a sliver of warm, tan skin (raw sienna, flesh ochre, naples yellow). âShould have, honestly, with how much it pays.â
âIt gets very boring, very fast,â you say. âWhat do you plan to wear for the breaks?â
âWas I supposed to bring that mâself?â
You are unable to suppress a laugh. âYes, unfortunately.â
âOh,â he says, rubbing the back of his neck and going a little sheepishâas if expecting a reprimand. You suppose itâs a valid expectation to have, in his world. You arenât terribly familiar with the military, but you do know itâs one hell of a stickler for rules.
You also canât help but admire the appealing pull and stretch of his bicep and deltoid, the flex of his pectoral as he lowers his arm.Â
âWhy donât you wait here, and Iâll go see if I can find something for you?â you suggest kindly, letting him off the hook.
âSorry,â he says, pretty blue eyes filled with genuine apology. âIâll remember nexâ time. Thanks.â
The expression is so hangdog that you almost want to pat his head and noise at him reassuringly, like an actual dog. You press your lips together to hide a smile, and leave the studio.
When you get back from the modelsâ changing room, you find Soap with one hip against the counter where youâd been organizing your supplies, one knee loose and shoulders set at a relaxed angle. You want to laugh at his easy contrapposto. Heâs going to be an excellent model. You can feel it.Â
It looks as if heâs moving around the sticks of vine charcoal with one outstretched finger; he pulls his hand guiltily away when you reenter the studio, crossing his arms over his chest as if to hide the evidence of his snooping. It makes his pectorals bunch and round out, gathers the thickness of his biceps up into chiseled, full definition.
You lift one brow at him as you walk over.
âNever could keep my hands to mâself,â he admits, still sheepish.
âItâs alright,â you allow, smiling back. âDo you draw?â
âUsed to,â he says. He looks back at the charcoal. âNo time, now.â
âAre you deployed often?â you ask, taking the opportunity to look at his face.Â
Beauty is cheap in art, but you notice it all the sameâappreciate the strong brows, the hard angle of his jaw, the dark stubble of a beard you suspect he canât keep shaved down, and the long scar that cuts through it across his chin. The light brown of his complexion is speckled with sun exposure, and there are the faintest of creases at the corners of his eyes, which you expect will deepen into genuine, gorgeous crowâs feet as he ages.
Heâs not all rugged, though. There is a soft, thick curl to his lashes, which are as dark as strong coffee or expensive chocolate, and an equal decadence to the pink, plush little swell of his bottom lipâwhich, in the very middle, has the smallest of divots, as if he regularly spends time biting it.Â
Theyâre traits that are far too sweet to belong on an otherwise masculine face, and their effect is such that they turn an objectively average set of features into a shockingly attractive portraitâthat suddenly has something fluttering, just a bit, in the roof of your stomach.
He looks at you, and catches your survey. You can see him realize youâd been watching, the knowledge of it blooming in ocean blue eyes like ink dropped onto linen.
âMore often than noâ,â he answers, showing teeth in a crooked, interested grin. And now heâs looking at youâattention flitting across your face, dropping down your body and jumping back up to meet your gaze. The creases deepen at the corners of his eyes.
The fluttering intensifies. The sudden role reversal has you feeling at once flustered and unmoored. You are never the subject of any perusalâalways comfortably the observer.
âWellââ you try, and youâre embarrassed at the low tone of your voice. You clear your throat. âWell, letâs make use of the time we have you, then.â
His smile remains, cocksure and easy. âLetâs.âÂ
He knows the effect heâs had.
âAnyway,â you say, blinking several times and proffering the sheet youâd retrieved, ânone of the other models are your size, so Iâm afraid this will have to do.â
He takes it in his hands, which are sun-dark and striking against the clean white linen. âSo itâs a toga, then?â he asks.
âWhatever you like. Letâs go over the basics, and then you can undress.â
âOh, already, aye? Yâmove fast, hen,â he drawls, still grinning. âI like it.â
Heat rushes to your face, but you donât feel embarrassed enough not to laugh. You busy yourself with tapping your charcoal sticks back in place, putting them back in an even row ascending in order of length, and saving yourself from having to look him in the eye. âHa! We donât do a lot of foreplay in this studio, Iâm afraid.â
âNo?â Soap hums, and he steps closer. Heâs very warm, enough that you can feel it even with the space between you. You do have to look at him then. His eyes are half-lidded, lashes casting pretty shadows on his cheekbones as he gazes down at you. âThatâs a shame. Iâm right partial to it.â
Your brows lift, and you will your pulse to remain steady even as you inhale, catching a thread ofâcologne? Aftershave? Just plain deodorant?âcoming off of him. The scent caresses you, almost beckoning you to lean forward. You swear you can see the thrum of his heartbeat, there in the soft hollows by his Adamâs apple.
You blink. He is your model. âWellâIâll try to set you up as best I can, anyway. Follow me, please.â
And you turn your back on him, because this is your workplace, and you are at work, and if you donât get on with things you might do something stupid like actually flirt back.
Soap hadnât been sure what to expect when he arrived at the art studio. Heâs never been to one before, much less one housed in a universityâwhich he has also never been toâand hell, he only ever took one art class in high school.
If pressed, heâd have imagined old brick walls covered in diagram posters, shelves of supplies in all colors, the smell of paint hanging permanently in the air. What he finds instead is modern, clean, and impersonal. Stage lights hang from fixtures in the ceiling, pointing at a platform in the back center of the room. A tight line of easels, all folded up, stand pressed into a far corner, next to a tower of stacked chairs, and waist-high cabinets line half the room against the bare, painted cinder block wall. The linoleum floor looks new.
None of this, however, has any opportunity to disappoint him. His final unmet expectation, standing across the room and organizing a tray of art supplies, is a very welcome surprise.
Youâre bonnie. Like, every point on his wishlist bonnie. Christ, he mustâve done something really good lately, because he canât imagine just lucking into this. Thereâs not a hard angle to you, all sweet and soft, but when you meet his gaze during introductions thereâs a sharpness to you that skewers him through the chest. You are much smarter than him, he can tell immediately.Â
Heâs always had a thing for smart women. Soft ones, too. And if that werenât enough, you let him flirt shamelessly with you, while checking him out the whole time.
Steaming Jesus.
You direct him to get onto the platform and sit down, still clothed, in an armchair draped in another pristine white sheet. The stage lights are bright overhead, and they highlight free-floating wisps of your hair in gold.Â
âYou want to ensure that you donât rest your weight on only one or two points,â you explain. You have a nice voice. Steady, confidentâthis is your territory, your studio, and in it you are clearly the master. âThe main danger is that your arms or legs might fall asleep, and you wonât realize it until you get up, in which case youâll fall. We canât touch you, so we canât save you from that.â
âYâcanna touch me?â Soap repeats.
âNot without your explicit consent,â you say.
He smiles at you, the kind of smile he saves for bright nights at the pub over platoons of shot glasses. âI explicitly consent to you touching me.â
The corners of your mouth tug upward, just a bit, and you look away, clearly bashful. Something in Soapâs chest starts beating a drum. He knows already heâll ask you to drinks after the class ends tonight.
âI doubt Iâd be able to do much,â you say, âyouâre a bit more substantial than the usual models.â Your eyes flick down his torso and back up.
âGuess Iâll have to follow your advice, then,â he says.
âYou should,â you say, and he looks at your thigh shamelessly as you pat itâeven beneath your jeans, he can see the ripple of the impact. âOne of the worst-case scenarios is nerve damage.â
âSo you have done this before!â
He canât help itâSoapâs imagination runs wild. Titanic, draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls wild. Itâs not exactly polite to imagine a teacher naked while sheâs in the middle of giving him directions (and Jesus, what a concept, he might be half-mast already), but Soap has always found that people like it when heâs a little rude.
You drum your fingers. âI have.â
He finally hears the nerve damage part of your instruction. âHow, uhâhow bad can it get?â
The drumming stops. âFor me? It just starts to twinge a bit if I sit on this side very long. So donât rest your weight all on one hip, yeah?â
Concern assuaged that he had not ignored your genuine pain in order to objectify you, Soap grins. âYeah.â
âGood,â you say. âAlsoâeven if it doesnât hurt, Soap, you can stop at any time, okay?â
That has him blinking. âKinda defeats the purpose, doesnae?â
You shake your head. âIt doesnât matter. This is your first time modeling. You donât know how youâll feel, sitting here with your clothes off and everyone looking at you. If you need to stop, I want you to stop. Iâll make sure youâre paid anyway, so donât worry about that.â
You areâŠso serious about this. The line of your brows is furrowed, imploring, like a little discomfort on his part is a violation of the highest order.
âSure,â he says, a little dumbstruck and mostly lying. Heâd be a rubbish soldier if he tapped out of a little thing like sitting down, but itâs nice that you care.
You purse your lips, nod, and then move onto the task at hand, stepping back and then down off the platform. When you begin to survey himâgaze flitting up and down his body, more pensive than appreciativeâhe has to resist the urge to flex.
Instead he watches you as you look at him. He especially likes, he decides, the slope of your nose and the smart, serious press of your mouth. You could get him all turned around, he thinks, if you gave it half a try.
Your tits are also great, but thatâs by the by.
âTry resting your elbow up a little higher, and twist at the hips a bit,â you instruct, and Soap obeys. âHm. How would you feel about crossing your ankles?â
You continue like thisânudging him in directions he doesnât think make all that much of a difference, standing in different positions around the room to check the angles. He half-wishes he could step out of his body and join you, curious as he is about what youâre seeing, what your students will see. Heâs not sure he has any clear expectations for how the class will go, but if youâre any indication, itâll be more fun than he expects.
âNot sure if Iâll remember how to get back into this,â he says, partly to be helpful and partly to get you to talk to him again.
âIâll help you, donât worry,â you say. âOkay, I think thatâs a good one, you can move nowâIâm going to start setting up, the students should be here any minute.â
He stands, and you turn away to collect your supplies, so Soap figures this means itâs time for him to strip. He pulls off his shirt and drapes it over the chairâs arm, unbuttons his pants and shoves them down to his knees.
âSoap!â
He freezes. Then he looks at you. Youâre blushing again, deep and saturated, mouth parted in surprise and hand pressed to your chest. He does not miss the quick flick of your gaze down his body; heâs probably violated some rule or another of the studio, but he canât help but grin.
Youâre adorable.
âGotta happen eventually, right?â he says.
You cover your face with your palm. âI was going to leave the room first!â
âFirst time someoneâs wanted to run away when Iâm takinâ my clothes off, I wonât lieââ
âYou just come get me when youâre done!â you say hastily as you beeline for the door. âIâll be right outside!â
Soap chuckles a little when youâre gone, the door slamming mortified behind you, and folds his clothes up behind the armchair heâll be sitting in. Youâre so cute. He canât wait to sit naked for you for the next three hours.
And heâs definitely asking you out for drinks.
next
#soap x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x you#john mactavish x reader#soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish x you#size neutral reader#autistic reader#neurodivergent reader#fat reader#chubby reader#plus size reader#cod x reader#cod x you#mw2 soap#mw2 x reader#mw2 x you#gotta get a better tag for all my original stuff#muses#madi writes
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a touch of emotion
Connor x Reader
Summary:Â After the meeting with Kamski, Connor feels conflicted and lost, luckily you're there to hold his hand through it.
A/N:Â DBH is one of my main comfort games, and it was about time I wrote a little something for my favorite boy from it. If anyone would like to see more of Connor here, let me know. <3
Masterlist
"Why didn't you shoot?" Hank inquires, narrowing his eyes inquisitively.
"I just saw that girl's eyes⊠And I couldn'tâŠ" Connor answers back, his voice edging on desperate. "That's all."
A howling wind prickles your skin like tiny needles. It was such a cold day, no wonder you hadn't been keen on coming out here today. Leaning back on the hood of Hank's car and pulling your coat tighter around yourself, you watch from afar as Connor tries to justify his choice, even if it had been the right one to make.
He intrigues you. Because for someone who keeps saying he's just a machine trying to accomplish a task, he acts way more human than a lot of people you know. Even on the day you'd met him, he was already all curious and talkative, you couldn't recall meeting any android like him before.
Connor has changed ever since you started working together, you realize it now more than ever. He's becoming softer, personality starting to shine through the cracks as his decisions become increasingly emotionally driven.
"Cyberlife's last chance to save humanity, is itself a deviant."
Kamski's words echoed inside your mind, as did Connor's panicked and distressed expression when he promptly denied it. Ironic, you think to yourself; he shouldn't feel as troubled as he does if what Kamski said is not true.
And that same feeling now lingers. Once they were done talking, Hank took a few steps away to make a call, most likely to the precinct judging by the scowl on his face; and Connor can't stand still, he's pacing around, fidgeting with the cuffs of his blazer as the snow shifts under his feet. There's a permanent frown on his eyebrows, he looks almost⊠lost, his LED with an insistent yellow color and gaze unfocused on the distance.
You worry your lower lip between your teeth, torn between reaching out to him or keeping to yourself. The snow falls heavier now, and you can feel the tips of your fingers slowly going numb. You've always liked the cold, yet it seems the cold doesn't like you.
Between the snow, the frozen lake, and the white horizon of the frigid weather, Connor stands out. He's holding onto his own arms, hugging himself, and you find it endearingly human, as if he's subconsciously trying to find a way to comfort himself.
You lay your palms flat on the hood of the car and push yourself away, walking up to him before you can think things through. The snow crunching under your feet doesn't seem to call his attention. "Connor?" You say gently, reaching out to him with your hand but stopping short of actually touching him. You hesitate. When did he start making you nervous?
"You okay?"
Those warm and tender brown eyes of his regard you with curiosity, lips half parted as he struggles on what to say. The LED on his temple switched from blue to yellow and blue again. "I- yes. I think I'm fine." Snowflakes are clinging to his hair and falling softly onto the skin of his cheeks; they compliment his features, always so gentle.
You offer him a small, comforting smile. He's still figuring himself out. It was okay, you were patient.
"I'm⊠sorry," Connor begins again, avoiding looking you directly in the eyes. He purses his lips and closes his eyes for a moment longer, and you doubt you've ever seen any android be this expressive.
"I compromised our investigation," he pauses, "I should have been more efficient." And reprimands himself.
You're shaking your head before he's even done talking. "No, don't say that," you take a step closer to him as your heart holds your reasoning hostage, one hand wrapping around Connor's wrist to keep him with you. "Don't say that when you've made the right choice, Connor."
There was a beat, Connor's face does something complicated that you cannot read, and when he looks up at you again, his gaze is almost too much. The amount of emotion he looked at you with nearly made you choke on air.
"But⊠we didn't learn anything." His voice is quiet, barely there, as if he doesn't care for his own argument and is only looking for an excuse to hear more of your voice.
"I don't care," the words fall from your lips before you can debate if you should even be saying them out loud at all.
Connor seems surprised, caught off guard as his eyebrows raise just slightly at how fast and true you spoke. His eyes keep searching your face for⊠something. You couldn't be sure of what exactly he was looking for. Maybe even he doesn't know yet.
Your heart stumbles on your chest when you see Connor gulping and his eyes avoiding yours again. Only then do you realize that the hand you held his wrist with had drifted lower, your fingers now gently grazing his palm. His skin feels comfortingly warm and soft, a pleasant touch sending goosebumps down your spine.
It was all foreign territory to him, you knew it, felt it in the way he tried timidly closing his fingers around your own. His movements are slow, uncertain, and tentative, bordering on afraid.
How naive of you, to be having such feelings for an android. Yet when he's the most caring, honest, endearing, and gentle person you know, how could you not?
Hank told you once; "I think you're breaking our android huh." He'd said it right after Connor had gone through the trouble of finding an umbrella just so you didn't have to stand under the heavy rain, even if you tried telling him you didn't mind. And you'd taken it as a joke back then, not really understanding the hidden meaning behind your older partner's teasing look.
Yet as you hold onto Connor's hand now, feeling the way his thumb shyly brushes your skin, you wonder if he feels it too, if he's willing to feel the same as you do. If you could dare to hope.
"All I care about," you speak slow and careful, syllables heavy on your tongue. You clear your throat so your voice doesn't sound as tender as you feel. "is that⊠that you didn't let him manipulate you, that you followed your heart." You bring your free hand up to his chest, right on top of where you can faintly feel his thirium pump working overtime.
Connor looked to be about to speak, perhaps to try and correct you about your choice of words, yet all he does is open and close his mouth, eyes trained on yours and LED swirling with a permanent yellow color. For a moment you wonder if he's analyzing you, and worry about what he may find. His hold on your hand tightens ever so slightly; you don't think he realizes he's doing it.
"I'm glad you didn't pull the trigger, Connor. I'm proud of you."
It's barely a second, his LED flashing red before going back to yellow and eventually, slowly, blue; but you see it. He blinked a couple of times as if processing your words or how to feel about them.
"I-" Connor's eyes seem hazy, their tender brown only a thin ring around his blown pupils. His fingers now tangle with yours. "I feel-"
"Alright kids, let's go." Hank's voice sounds all too loudly as he unintentionally breaks the bubble that cocooned you and Connor. "Fowler wants us back in the precinct." The lieutenant speaks with an annoyed undertone as he stuffs his phone back in his pocket.
You're still caught up in the feeling of Connor's skin on yours, in how you're now so hyper-aware of just how close he's standing to you. Connor, it seems, isn't much different.
When there's no answer, Hank finally looks your way and gestures you over; "come on, get a move on, I don't wanna hear another lecture about arriving late," he insists, before plopping himself into the driver's seat, murmuring something about damn love-birds.
Despite the cold, you can feel a warmth coming up to your cheeks. Without mustering the courage to meet Connor's gaze, you focus on the way his hand fits so perfectly with yours. His fingers are awkwardly intertwined with yours, holding strong and gentle at the same time.
Connor seems reluctant to let go. It hits you that perhaps he won't. You could dwell on a thousand reasons of why, or not think at all and simply bask in the feeling. But right now time isn't on your side.
You take a deep breath, and risk a glance up at him.
Any words you were about to say suddenly feel clogged up in your throat. Oh, Connor tilts his head in that endearing way you're so fond of, yet the look in his eyes is one you've never caught before; you can't name it, it feels dangerous to try, but he looks as if he just realized something.
"Come on," you tug on his hand, just about managing the timid words, "we have to go."
Connor follows quietly, his hand steady on yours until you reach the car and are forced to part.
As Hank drives, you watch Connor through the rearview mirror; there's a newfound lightness to him, a warmth to his eyes that makes you feel fuzzy inside. And when he catches your gaze, and smiles, you know he feels it too.
â* ⟠â*ïŸ:â*ïŸ
Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so Iâd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3
You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.
Connorâs taglist: @milkiane@v1ci0us
#connor dbh x reader#connor rk800#connor rk800 x reader#dbh connor#connor imagine#detroit become human#dbh#dbh rk800#connor x reader#connor x you#dbh x reader#imagine#fanfic#angst#fluff#my story
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babe / theres something wretched about this / something so precious about this / where to begin babe / theres something broken about this / but i might be hoping about this / oh what a sin
hello ive been turning them over and over and over again in my mind. i might be unwell. [id under the cut | reference ]
[image description: two drawings of astarion and gale from baldurs gate 3 hugging. the one on the upper right side has gale starting the hug, with one arm visibly around astarion, leaning his head into his shoulder. astarion has one arm around gale, the other hand still hovering over his back. his eyes are open and he is not yet leaning in, somewhat aprehensive. the drawing on the lower left is similar to the first one, but this time astarion is also leaning into the hug, with his face smushed against gales shoulder and his eyes closed. next to the drawings are two crops of the lyrics to hoziers from eden, reading "babe / theres something tragic about you / something so magic about you / dont you agree" and "babe / theres something lonesome about you / something so wholesome about you / get closer to me". the whole image is colored in soft greys of yellow and blue hues. end image description]
#bloodweave#bg3#astarion x gale#gale x astarion#gale dekarios#astarion ancunin#baldurs gate 3#nudel draws stuff#gale of waterdeep#i needed something to do during a conference today so i decided to#redraw these gifs i saw the other day... ill rb them next one second#anyways. what if we were two bisexual men with tadpoles in our heads and could help heal each others wounds. what if.
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