#I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AND IT ENDED UP BEING SHORT
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just cried in the shower thinking about my bf !! who have i become đł
#love changes you!!!!!#anyways all i can think about these days is how i am restraining myself from telling him i am in love with him lol#weve been dating only like 2.5 months i feel like its a short time but at the same time i feel like ive been with him forever like it feels#like years⊠and we talked about it he feels the sameâŠâŠ.. like ive had him in my life forever#the other night i brought him home and we always talk in the car for a very long time and at some point he just looked at me and said#something like ââyou know youre my best friend and my confidant.. i dont know what id be doing without youâ and i almost started crying#because i feel the same like we are best friends and then also everything else like physical attraction and all of that but we have so much#fun together đ„č#and it made me think of âyou are in loveâ by taylor swift when she says âone night he wakes/strange look on his face/pauses then says/#youre my best friend/and you knew what it was/he is in loveâ#đ„șđ„șđ„ș#sorry for being so corny i just love him so much#oh and since he works at a small cinema in our city he has the keys to the cinema⊠and we sometimes go there late at night when no one is#there and watch whatever movies we want in the theater lmao#the other day i wanted to start watchingthe office with him because he never watched it and i think hed love it but we ended up not being#able to watch it at my house⊠so that night he took his theater keys when we went out and took me to the cinema to watch the office there#đ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„șđ„ș oof#anywaysâŠâŠ. im so in love its embarrassing
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Asking the JJK Men if it's in yet
"Is it in yet?"
feat. Nanami, Toji, TrueForm!Sukuna and Higuruma
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Nanami:
Kento stopped dead in his tracks, his cock only pressed halfway in. Embraced beneath him, cuddlefucking in missionary, you tried to keep a straight face, as if you weren't about to eep! from the delicious stretch of just half in.
Without glasses on, Kento still, somehow, managed to look over his glasses at you. His voice was mild, almost conversational, as he sought clarification.
"Is it...in?"
"...yeah, is it in yet?"
Something prickled over Kento's shoulders. He scoffed, heaving a sigh and bracing himself on his elbows. He unclipped his watch in one deft movement, laying it on the pillow beside your head.
"Ask me again in one minute. Then three. Then five."
You felt a droplet of sweat run down your soul.
"...Kento, I was just fucking--"
"--no, no, I insist. One minute."
"What are you going to--"
Kento slammed his cock into you so hard, you jolted up the bed with a shriek. If his abs hadn't held you in place beneath him, you'd have hit the headboard. Shocked, groaning from the wet slaps of Kento absolutely railing you, bottoming out until you could hardly see, you couldn't help but let out a breathy giggle.
"--c-can't...can't-- haaaaah, Kento!"
Time lost all meaning. Kento braced on his elbows, dragging his cock halfway out again with a grunt, and stopping. He glowered down at you.
"Ask me again."
You whimpered, digging your nails into his shoulders. You swallowed, trembling in anticipation.
"Is...is it, uh...in yet--"
Kento slammed into you again, creamy white lube squelching out of you onto the bed as you muffled your cries into the pillow, swearing you could feel him in your ribs.
Kento continued this for three, five, seven, nine, eleven minutes, until you were forced to admit, begrudgingly, that he and his seed were definitely in.
Higuruma:
Hiromi's eyes fluttered open. Having just released a sinful whimper from you sinking down onto his length, his brain suddenly short-circuited in fractious self-doubt and hyper analysis. In the end, nothing he could think took precedence, apart from a dumb:
"I'm-- I'm sorry? Is it...?"
Hiromi grasped your hips, pulling his shirt up and gripping it between his teeth so he could see where you were joined in his lap. He bucked up, just once, pausing for just long enough to shiver and moan at the slick, wet velvet of you. His head tipped back again with a weary sigh.
"You know," Hiromi chastised, grasping your hips to roll you over his cock, his hands strong, confident, "I'm so fucking tired, I'd have believed you. That I wasn't in."
You smirked above him, eliciting hushed whimpers and groans as you started to ride him. Hiromi allowed you to settle into your rhythm, before he berated you again.
"But also," he bickered, "how dare you, you cheeky cow, 'is it in yet', like I don't rail you blind every night with my 'is it in yet'--
You laughed, his chastisement turned punishing as he bounced you on him with glee, comedy turned feral.
"Oooo-ooohhh fuck-- love it when you-- when you think you're being funny-- love it--" Hiromi groaned, his voice muffled, his shirt hem between his teeth again as his eyes fixated on your stretched pussy sliding down his cock. You laughed, whimpering, breathless.
"I--I am funny--"
"--yeah yeah, alright, sweetheart-- keep telling yourself that--"
Toji:
Intending to hold onto your hair just a bit, Toji instead pulled you up fully, from your hands and knees. With your back to his chest, speared upon him, you squealed. You felt the bulbous tip of him bully against your cervix, and squirmed, gasping his name.
"The fuck you mean, 'is it in yet?"?"
You groaned, regretting your decision already. Toji reached up and gently slapped your cheek, until your eyes opened, and he pointed to the mirror in front of you. You could see him smirking over your shoulder.
When he saw your eyes drift to the base of his cock, slick with your arousal, deep inside you, and angled upwards so you could see the bulging underside, he smirked again, twitching his erection once, twice, three times so you could see.
Snapping your moan in half, Toji fucked upwards once, hard.
"Is it in yet?" He mocked, his breaths heavy as he fucked, and you squealed, and he fucked, laughing.
"Is it in yet? Come on baby, tell me. Is it in yet? Is it? Shit, kid. I dunno, I need you to tell me. Is it in yet? Is it in yet?"
If only he'd stop impaling you on him for long enough for you to answer.
True!Form Sukuna:
He laughed. He actually laughed. He only stopped laughing when you, sweating with fearful uncertainty, started laughing too. Then, he grabbed your face, rough in one long-nailed hand.
"What do they teach girls these days?" Sukuna rumbled, tsk-ing, batting your cheek from side to side with his palm and the back of his hand; a cat with a mouse.
"Whatever they teach you," he sighed, with your thighs spread upon his, sat on his throne, "I will offer you the chance to be untaught."
You nodded, panting as he let go of your body, and you choked out and whimpered as you slid further and further down his lower length. You felt the heavy, thickening weight of his upper length, resting against your back.
Sukuna left you like this, hands-free, to be slowly impaled as he watched, almost bored. He seemed to be waiting for something.
"Well, come on then," he drawled, his jaw leaned on one hand, with one finger lazily circling your clit, just to feel your cunt flutter around him, "beg me."
Your brain stuttered, your pussy so stuffed you could hardly think; "Beg--b-beg for...for what...my Lord?"
"Beg me to unteach you whatever drivel it is they taught you, that you should think it funny to ask your master 'is it in yet?'"
You didn't hesitate, babbling, one of his hands circling round to grasp you by the throat as you did. "P-please unteach me, my Lord, I was just being silly, just--just--forgive me--"
Sukuna hummed, his half-smile almost gentle as he began to lift you off him again, enjoying the way your pussy clenched around his lower cock as you choked.
"Lovely manners." He purred. You jolted, gasping as you felt the thick tip of his upper cock begin to squeeze into your ass. You saw stars, blinded by the enormity of him, made dumb by your own stupid attempt at comedy.
"Let's make sure you understand the perils of the situation you chose to place yourself in, hmm?"
#pseudowho#jjk#kento nanami#nanami kento#jjk nanami#kento nanami x reader#higuruma hiromi#kento nanami x you#nanami fluff#nanami my love#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jujutsu nanami#kento nanami smut#kento nanami x y/n#nanami#nanami kento fluff#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#nanami smut#nanami x reader#nanami x y/n#nanami x you#hiromi higuruma#jjk higuruma#higuruma#higuruma hiromi x reader#higuruma smut#higuruma x reader#hiromi higuruma x reader
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She Wolf
A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!
Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.
Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!
Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)
divider credit here
âAre you ever gonna tell him?â
You looked up from your desk towards Ororoâs voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.
âGod, I donât know, âro. I donât think I should. Itâs just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.â
Youâd had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. Youâd probably be considered best friends by now with how much time youâd spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic âtough guyâ, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You werenât exactly a seemingly âsoftâ type either.
Youâd spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. Youâd been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldnât live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought youâd find some âhelpâ. Youâd been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. Youâd never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You werenât an animal. You just had teeth like one.
Knowing you couldnât lurk in town much longer, youâd hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that youâd met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now.Â
âI think you're underestimating how he feels about you,â Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week.Â
âI think youâre overestimating how he feels about me,â you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.
Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again.Â
âAre you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?â
You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scottâs voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.
âOkay, Logan, youâre gonna be the dog,â Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand.Â
He was definitely not as amused, âwhy do I have to be a damn dog?â
Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, âyouâre the thimble.â
She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play.Â
It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie.Â
âI think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,â Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.
âAnd what we have, obviously,â Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.
âGross,â Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer heâd hidden in the back of the fridge.
âI think someone is jealous,â Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.
âOf having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,â he scoffed.
As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasnât a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.
Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.
âYou donât seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think youâd be cute together,â she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.
âNah, definitely not my type of girl.â
It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like youâd been punched in the gut. You couldnât take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyoneâs gaze.Â
Definitely not my type of girl.Â
âI think I should head to bed, itâs getting late,â you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs.Â
âWhat the hell was that?â Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.
âThat was so mean,â Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.
âI didnât mean to be,â Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, ââŠdo you think sheâs mad at me?â
âProbably more hurt than mad,â Jean said honestly.Â
âShit,â he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, âwhat do I say?â
âNot that,â Marie replied, âwhy did you even say that anyway? You couldâve just said no.â
âI think you like her and youâre being mean so that she wont like you back because youâre afraid,â Ororo said after a moment of silence.Â
Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.
âAm I that easy to read?â His voice was muffled through his hands.
The rest of them couldnât help exchanging knowing smiles.
âSo you finally admit it,huh? Youâve got a crush,â Scott teased.
Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, âyou shut your fucking mouth or Iâll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesnât shine.â
âI think thatâs a yes,â Jean whispered to her boyfriend.
âTalk to her when you see her tomorrow. Weâre not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you canât accept your own,â Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.
âDo you think sheâs even gonna talk to me?â
âOnly one way to find out.â
ââââââââĄâââââââââââââââĄâââââââ
Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.
It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers.Â
Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.
âHave you guys seen her? Iâve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.â
âCanât really blame her,â Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed.Â
âSheâs in her room,â Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, âshe went up before dinner, said she wasnât hungry.â
He groaned, running a hand through his hair, âsheâs skipping dinner now too, great.â
âGo talk to her!â She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.
He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing.Â
âYou canât avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.â
Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.
Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot youâd leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like youâd gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.
âSheâs in her room, she went up before dinner,â Ororo answered.
âNo, sheâs not. And her purse is gone.â
Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.
ââââââââĄâââââââââââââââĄâââââââ
Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybodyâs phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.
âWhatâs so funny?â Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.
âIâm afraid you all have your work cut out for you,â he replied, finally opening his eyes.
âSo, where is she?â Ororo asked, worry in her voice.Â
âThere is a club called The Nightcrawler - â Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently.Â
âClub? What, like a book club?â He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable.Â
âMaybe we should just let her have fun,â Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.
Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. Youâd spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasnât sweatpants and a hoodie. Youâd settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that youâd bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you werenât Loganâs âtype of girlâ, you sure as hell were somebodyâs. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more.Â
âI feel ridiculous,â you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. Thatâs how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.
âHey, you wanna dance?â
He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didnât look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne.Â
âSure, why not?â
As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.
âI love this song!â You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.
S.O.S., she's in disguise
S.O.S., she's in disguise
There's a she wolf in disguise
Coming out, coming out, coming out
âIronic,â you muttered under the music.
ââââââââĄâââââââââââââââĄâââââââ
Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.
âLogan, slow down!â Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.
âWhat if she didnât even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?â
âOh,â Jean laughed, â I see. Youâre jealous.âÂ
âNo.â
âYup.â
âNope.â
âSo youâd be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?âÂ
Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, âsure, whatever,â feigned disdain in his voice.
The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people.Â
âThis is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,â Scott shouted.
âNot necessarily,â Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.
âWhat?â Logan furrowed his eyebrows.
She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.
There's a she wolf in the closet
Open up and set it freeÂ
There's a she wolf in your closet
Let it out so it can breathe
You didnât even look like you. Heâd never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter.Â
And you were with a guy.
Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey
It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way
âSo, what did we tell you?â Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.
âJust some kid,â he replied dismissively, turning to her, âdoesnât mean anything anyway.â
âYou sure?â Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.
That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way.Â
Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys
I just want to enjoyÂ
By having a very good time
And behave very bad in the arms of a boy
You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.
The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.
S.O.S., she's in disguise
S.O.S., she's in disguise
âTouch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.â
You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you werenât bluffing.Â
There's a she wolf in disguise
Coming out, coming out, coming out
Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.
âGod damn it,â Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him.Â
âLogan!â Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip.Â
There's a she wolf in the closet
Let it out so it can breathe
âShit, Iâm kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?â He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.
âCome on,â Logan snapped, âweâre leaving.â
âWhat the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?â You yelled back. You didnât want to stay anywhere near that guy but you werenât ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.
âHey, she doesnât really look like she wants to leave with you, man,â the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants.Â
âYeah? She doesnât want to stay with you either, jackass,â Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, âsheâs not interested.â
What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs.Â
âNo oneâs gonna fucking ask what I want, right?â You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you.Â
âYour little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?â The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Loganâs hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time.Â
âAlright - enough, enough, weâre leaving!â Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.
âWhat are you guys doing here?â You asked, turning to Logan, âand what the fuck was that?â
âWhat was that? Youâre welcome - âÂ
âI didnât ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?â
âOh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,â he scoffed, âhe had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.â
He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, âDonât - Donât touch me!â
None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and youâd definitely never snapped at Logan like that before.Â
You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete.Â
âIâm sorry,â you apologized to the rest of them,â but why are you guys here?â
âYou left without saying anything, we couldnât find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,â Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, âweâre so glad youâre okay.âÂ
You hugged her back.
âI just - I wanted to disappear for a while,â you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scottâs gaze.Â
âDo you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?â Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.
âShut it! Enough from you! Youâve done enough damage control!â
The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.
âHoney, I donât mean this in a bad way, but,â she paused, thinking over her words, âwhat were you gonna do to that guy if we hadnât stopped you?â
You understood what she meant immediately.Â
âWhat, you think I was going to kill him?â you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, âI wasnât. I donât do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.â
âI knowâŠso, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?â she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, âhe seemed kinda shady.â
Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.
You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.
âLiked the attention, I guess,â you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, âitâs been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.â
âHe only wanted one thing from you anyway,â he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.
âAnd I canât want it either?â
That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said âyou asked, you got the answerâ.
You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom.Â
âWhatâs going on with you?â
âLeave me be.â
You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out.Â
âLogan.â
He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.
âMove.â
âIâm not leaving you alone until you tell me whatâs going on with you. You donât disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - â
âThereâs nothing to talk about. Goodnight,â you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.
âI care about you, you know, I was worried,â he began to explain.
You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasnât in the room.
âYeah? Why?,â you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, âIâm not your type of girl. Whatâs there to worry about?â
Loganâs face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him.Â
âIs that what this is about? Thatâs why you went out?â
âWhy do you care?âÂ
You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.
âStop.âÂ
You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.
You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.
âI didnât mean that.â
âYou donât have to lie to spare my feelings -â
âIâm not.â
He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.
âI only said that - listen, I only said that because - â Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.
âPlease, donât treat me like Iâm stupid, Logan.â
You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.
âFuck,â he sighed, âI only said that because I didnât want you to like me.â
You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.
âIt worked, are you happy?â
âNo, Iâm not - â
âWell, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.â
You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldnât quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldnât really help it once it started.Â
âOh, god, please, donât cry,â he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldnât.
âWhy would you do that?â You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldnât look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.
âIâm so sorry, princess, I am. Iâm really fucking stupid,â he huffed.Â
You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. Heâd called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name.Â
âAnd what happened there, at the club? âSheâs not interestedâ, what was that about?â You continued.
He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasnât much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.
âI like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldnât like me back and it would save you the trouble.â
Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.
âSave me the trouble of what?â
You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.
âI donât knowâŠhaving to deal with me, I guess. I - Iâve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.â
You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you.Â
âAnd earlier, when we picked you up,â he continued, âI acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Canât stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I donât know.â
Youâd never heard him sound so nervous in all the time youâd known him.
âYou are my type of girl,â he finally choked out, âonly type of girl Iâd ever want.â
All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind.Â
âItâs alright if you hate me, I canât say I really blame you. Fuck, Iâm sorry.â
He began to walk out, convinced heâd fucked up beyond repair.
âLogan.â
Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you.Â
No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top.Â
âYouâre not something to deal with, you know,â you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.
You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.
âIâve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldnât wallow in self pity because you didnât want me.â
âYou were trying to get over me,â he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, âI deserved that.â
After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.
âDid it work?â
His voice was low and soft, a tone youâd rarely heard him speak with.
You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath.Â
âNo. I donât think it was ever going to, either,â you laughed a little, âwhen that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didnât look anything like you.â
Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.
Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.
âCan I kiss you?â
You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.
You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him.Â
When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.
âWe shouldâve done that much sooner,â you giggled.
âAgreed.â
His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.
He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasnât long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.
âWanted you for so long,â he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, âI was so stupid.â
âWe both were,â you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.
âL-Logan,â you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.
He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, âCan I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.â
His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.
âMmm, uh-huh,â you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck.Â
âYou have to use your words, pretty girl,â he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if youâd disappear if he let go.Â
Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.
âY-yes, yeah - please,â you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.
âPlease what, baby?â
âYou - you can make it up to me,â you groaned into his neck.Â
He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back.Â
âCan I take this off you, baby?â
You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.
âEager, huh?â, he chuckled, âlet me, sweetheart.â
He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.
You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking.Â
âAh - Logan,â you whined, making him smile against your skin.
âI like it when you say my name, pretty girl,â he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs.Â
Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.
He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.
âI thought about you a lot, you know - like this,â he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.
You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.
âI thought about you like this, too,â you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.
âYeah?â
His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.
âThis what you think about when you fuck yourself?â He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.
You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.
âY - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.â
He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.
He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name.Â
A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.
âHey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?â
It was Scott.
 You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face.Â
âY-yeah, Iâm alright, just - just tired,â you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.
âYou sure?â
You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing.Â
âYup, th-thank you, mâ jusâ gonna go to bed.â
Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.
Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.
âLogan, Iâm - â
âCâmon, pretty girl, câmon.â
His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.
âUh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,â he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.
âFuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,â you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.
He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers.Â
âI could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,â he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.
Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.
âFuck,â he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.
âYouâre into pain, huh?âÂ
You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.
âYouâre gonna pay for that, pretty girl,â he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing.Â
When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy youâd ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.
âWhat, are you nervous? Itâs alright sweetheart, Iâm not gonna hurt you.â
His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him.Â
You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking.Â
â âm not nervous, I want you, please,â you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist.Â
âYou sure?â he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust.Â
You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back.Â
Logan couldnât help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.
âSo tight,â he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.
âYou - fuck - youâre so fucking big,â you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out.Â
âFeels good?â
It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size.Â
âMm - uh-uh,â you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.
âUse your words, sweetheart,â he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him.Â
âY-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,â you whimpered.
That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress.Â
He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.
âS-someoneâs gonna - someoneâs gonna hear us,â you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again.Â
âDonât care, let âem,â he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you.Â
He really didnât have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure youâd never looked more beautiful.Â
âSo fucking pretty,â he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one heâd considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.
âBite me.â
You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, âare you sure?â
âPlease.â
You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.
He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip.Â
âPlease.â
His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didnât enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again.Â
You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds.Â
Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm.Â
â âs good, huh, princess? Come on me, câmon,â he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.
âWant me to stay?â
âMhm - please.â
The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep.Â
âHey, pretty girl,â he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, âyou know I love you?â
The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried youâd misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.
âReally?â
âOf course. You think I wouldâve done that with you if I wasnât in love?â
You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasnât that he hadnât had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since heâd bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasnât the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didnât have to be.Â
âI love you too,â you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.
âI shouldâve told you much sooner,â he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.
Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.
âYou can make it up to me some more.â
ââââââââĄâââââââââââââââĄâââââââ
A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett fic#logan howlett smut#logan howlett fanfiction#wolverine x reader#wolverine fic#wolverine fanfiction#wolverine smut#wolverine
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San comes home from tour in the middle of the night
needed the comfort so hereâs a short San fic
warnings: none ?/ maybe slightly suggestive at the end/ comfort/ dialogue starts under the cut lol masterlist
You'd been thrashing around for hours, trying to find comfort, but no luck. The bed was uncomfortable. Your pillow was too warm. Even your comforter annoyed you.
Peaceful sleep was not something you were well acquainted with the last few months, especially considering the absence of your favorite person. San.
You knew what you signed up for when you and San started dating, but it didn't make times like these any less difficult. Daily phone calls and texts only did so much to ease the longing.
Frustrated and miserable, you sat up and dramatically snatched your pillow and smacked it onto the opposite end of the bed. With a huff, you laid down and exhaled deeply, satisfied with the new sleeping arrangement. It was somehow exponentially more comfortable, but something was missing.
You couldn't be bothered to sit up again, so you slid your foot under San's pillow and gently tossed it to the other end of the bed. You held it tightly to your body, inhaling the subtle mixture of San's shampoo and fresh body odor before tucking it under your chin- the same way he holds you.
The remnants of San's faint aroma hit you straight in the gut. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your throat starting to tighten.
Just one more week and he'll be home. Don't cry. You repeated these words to yourself while blindly patting down the bed in search for your phone. You squinted at your screen before sending a text.
3:58 am my y/nâĄ: i miss you :(
You tossed your phone to the side, not expecting an answer. You'd sent San over a dozen texts yesterday, but he only responded back by hearting a few of the messages. A bit infuriating, but you understood he was most likely just busy.
-
You awoke with a startle when you felt something lightly dragging up and down your arm. The lamp in the furthest corner of the bedroom was on, casting a soft yellow glow, but still bright enough to leave you squinting at the figure before you.
You almost whimper when you realize San was standing just a few inches away from you. You practically leapt up, throwing your arms around San's neck, almost causing him to stumble. You couldn't help the whine in your voice as you spoke, your voice groggy from the fatigue. âI thought tour ended next week.â
His strong arms wrapped around your waist, constricting your breathing a bit, but you didn't care. âI got the dates mixed up, thatâs my fault, baby, I'm sorry. I texted you when I was on my way thirty minutes ago, didnât you see it? I sent it right after I saw your text.â
âI donât even know where I threw that thing, if weâre being honest." He chuckled into your neck. "Ugh, I donât care. Youâre finally home.â
You pulled him backwards until he was laying on top of you on the bed. He lifted his head from your shoulder, his smiley eyes taking in every millimeter of your face as you did the exact same. He freed his right arm from under you and smoothed your hair out of your face. His breath tickled your cheek as he quietly spoke, âIt was four in the morning when you texted meâŠWhy were you up, hmm?â
You wrapped your legs around Sanâs waist, your whole body clinging to him. Your hands slipped under his shirt, your fingers caressing his warm, soft skin. âI havenât been able to sleep without you.â
He raised his eyebrow, but his body relaxed even further in your embrace. âYou never mentioned this.â
âThe last thing I want is for you to worry about me when youâre about to perform for thousands of people.â You sighed.
He hummed in understanding, but rebutted, leaning down to place kisses on your cheek. âI want to worry about you. Youâre the most important person in my life.â
âIâm telling your mom that.â
âPlease donât.â He pouted and took a moment to run his index finger across your eyebrows and down your nose. âI havenât been able to sleep either.â
You pinched San's waist, drawing out a small yelp from him. âSan! You promised you were taking care of yourself.â
âI was, I swearâŠbut it really started to hit me a month into the tour. It was so hard not seeing your clothes all over the floor.â
Your brows furrowed in confusion. âHuh? You make me sound like a slobâŠâ
âWhat I mean isâŠthe only reminder of you that I had with me was the pendant you gave me and your pictures in my phone. Nothing felt like home.â
âOh. I almost wish that was all I had of you. Everything in this apartment and this city reminded me of you. It only made me miss you more.â His thumb stroked your cheek. "I know it's your job, but I hate when you leave."
âMe too, baby." San's eyes softened when they met your glossy ones, a small pang in his heart. He couldn't help himself as he brought his lips to yours, inhaling your sigh. What started off as soft kisses, grew more eager, months of deprivation just barely being chipped away.
San let out a noise between a whine and a groan as he pulled away. "I missed this,â he cups your face before dragging his thumb from your cheek to your now wet bottom lip. âAnd this.â He kisses the tip of your nose and continues to leave a perfect path of pecks down the side of your face. âThis.â He places a kiss on your earlobe before taking it between his teeth, gently nipping. âYou,â he whispers in your ear. âUs.â His lips leave a trail of kisses down your neck. The breath of his sigh tickles your skin, sending chills up and down your body.
You push Sanâs hair out his face, running your fingers through his silky, dark locks. You close your eyes, feeling your body relax just a bit too much. As badly as you wanted to keep going, exhaustion was beginning to eat away at you. âSannie.â
âHmm?â
âWe should sleep.â
âContinue later?â
âYes, please.â
a/n: San took a shower before falling asleep btw he is not stinky.,,,all my fics are lowkey the same lol
#san#ateez#choi san#san x reader#choi san x reader#ateez imagines#ateez x reader#fanfic#ateez fanfic#ateez x y/n#choi san x y/n#choi san imagine#choi san drabble#san x y/n#redzie02
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(not so) simple finale - anthony bridgerton
masterlist
summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple â that is, until it isnât.
a/n: so um ignore how long every part of this took to come out. i have no excuse. anyways we are finally here at the end!! almost 10k words of proper regency soap opera type shit and it all ends happily i promise. i hope u enjoy because damn this was supposed to be a short one shot and ended up being over 40k lmao
wc: 9k
warning(s): angst, reader is a lil insecure, slightly steamy make out scene, happy ending<333
Youâd never been this restless before.Â
Your dreams had a part to play in it. They insisted on tormenting you, though not in the usual way.Â
No, these dreams would have been pleasant had they come any sooner. For Anthony Bridgerton appeared in near every single one, with his charming smile and soft eyes and hair you always desired to run your fingers through.Â
He would smile at you, offer his arm and walk with you all around the park and the city as you talked for hours. He would compliment you, and you would compliment him, and he would court you as a perfect gentleman would.Â
He would kiss you, ravenously so. His hands would touch you where no one had touched before, leaving trails of fire in their wake, would unearth feelings you never could have imagined. He would revere you, near worship you, because in this world you never made such ill-advised choices. In this world, you never dragged him into a worthless scheme that ended with a ruined reputation and a broken heart. Â
In this world, he loved you just as much as you loved him, and you never did a single thing to make him doubt that.Â
But you were not there.Â
You were here, in the real world. Where you were in the midst of reaping what you spent a whole season sowing.Â
You were roused from that less than peaceful attempt at sleepâthough thoughts of Anthony took longer to disappearâby the opening of your door, and despite your visitor attempting to be quiet, you found your eyes fluttering open against your will.
âOh, dearest,â your mother lamented, âI did not mean to wake you. I apologize; I merely wanted to check on you. I will return laterâplease, rest.â
âNo,â you murmured, and you rubbed your eyes as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Small movements were much easier, which at least meant a step in the right direction. âNo, stay. Please.â
âAre you sure?â she asked. When you nodded, she closed the door lightly behind her and sat on your bedside, laying her hand over yours.Â
She whispered your name, her voice already thick with tears that she was trying to hide. âI am so glad you are alright.âÂ
âYou say that every time you come in here,â you said.
âAnd I will continue to say it.â She shook her head. âYou nearly perished. You should consider yourself lucky I am not in here at all hours of the day.âÂ
You managed a smile, and she sighed. âHow do you feel?â
âBetter,â you said. âI am still sore, but much better.â
âGood,â she said. âAll I can ask is that you continue to get better.âÂ
âThe rest has certainly been nice,â you said. âAm I still a true lady despite my late wakings?âÂ
âYou have always been a true lady,â your mother assured with a slight smile.Â
âI believe you may be the only one that still thinks so.âÂ
âIf you are feeling ready, there is a ball in a fortnight,â she said. âIt could be a good way to garner good will again.â You gave her a look, and she held up her hands. âI understand how you feel, but your presence is important. There are⊠rumors floating about, and we must lay them to rest.âÂ
âRumors,â you muttered wryly. âThat your daughter is an ungrateful wench and will die a spinster?âÂ
She said your name sternly, and you shook your head. âI read what Whistledown wrote about meâsheâs likely written a hundred more. I do not care what any of them think of me, Mother. I am only sorry for the pain it has caused you and Father, and the Bridgertons.âÂ
âThe Bridgerton name is strong enough to weather scandal,â she said. âWe have to work a bit harder. And making an appearance in society again, especially with Lord Cardew by your side, will help.âÂ
You suppressed a scoff at the mere thought of him. Youâd been granted such a reprieve from Lord Cardew because of Anthonyâs influence, and while you were recovering, no one but family was to see you. But soonâvery soonâhe would be your entire life.Â
âThat brings up another question,â your mother said wryly, and when you met her eyes she was giving you a very pointed look. âAre you still sure about this?âÂ
No, you wanted to say. You couldnât be less sure about Jonathan Cardew. But youâd dragged your family into this mess of yours, so it was your duty to fix it.Â
Plenty of women married much more dreadful men every year. You should have considered yourself lucky that a man of his breeding, of his standing was interested in you at allâespecially after the season youâd spent distancing yourself from him and the scandal youïżœïżœïżœd caused.Â
â...Yes,â you finally said. âI am sure.â
Your mother sighed and said your name. âYou are sure? You have not reached out to AnthââÂ
âThere is nothing left between us,â you interrupted. âI know it is not the best situation, and I know it is my fault, but I am making the best of it. All I ask is that you support me. It is hard enough attempting to make my way through this worldâI need my mother to be there for me rather than constantly pushing against it all.â
â...Of course,â she said quietly. âAnd I am so sorry that I have ever done differently. My dear, all I ask in return is that you understand me, as well as the decisions I make. All I want is the best for you, and I know that marriage is not what you desire, but there are things we must do.âÂ
âOf course,â you said, and your echoing words spurned a small smile from her. âI am sorry that I have always fought you so much. All I could see was my hatred for any kind of union, but all I managed was hurting you and Father, as well as myself, andâ and I cannot think of any apology that will be enough.â You shook your head with a mirthless laugh. âIâve no idea how you put up with me for so long, truly.âÂ
âIâve never had to put up with you,â she said. âI realize I may not have done the best job at showing it, butâ but I love you more than anything in this world. Everything I have ever done has been for you, my darling. You are the future of our name, and I know you will do an excellent job at carrying on our legacy.âÂ
âTruly?â you asked softly.Â
Your mother nodded as she took your hands and smiled at you. âTruly. Nothing in this world can change my love for you. You are our greatest accomplishment.âÂ
You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat as you smiled as well, and you pulled your mother into a hug. She reciprocated, and tears filled your eyes. Youâd missed the comfort of her presence so dearly.Â
âI love you too,â you whispered.Â
-
âAre you alright, my lady?âÂ
Your ladyâs maid's words snapped you out of the stupor youâd found yourself in, and it was all you could do to attempt a smile.Â
âYes, Julia,â you said. âQuite alright.âÂ
Her brows furrowed as she draped a pendant around your neck, the cold metal turning your exhale slightly shaky. âPardon my plainness, my lady, but you are not believable in the slightest.âÂ
âYou have been around me for far too long,â you said dryly. âI request another maid, one that cannot read me so easily.âÂ
Julia offered a wry smile. âYou are stuck with me for now, my lady. What is weighing so heavily on your mind?âÂ
You stared yourself in the mirror as you turned the question over. It was not as easy to answer as it should have been, not when everything was so out of order. Not when you hardly recognized the reflection staring back at you, wrapped in orange silk and adorned in jewels courtesy of Lord Cardew.Â
You were not yourselfâyou were to be Baron Jonathan Cardewâs wife, a baroness and status symbol to hang off his arm and smile prettily, and Baroness Cardew was who stared back at you.Â
Only a few more balls remained until the season came to an end, and though Lord Cardew was doing your family an immense service by giving you a second chance, he did not want to wait much longer to make it official.Â
It was all planned out. Your relationship would truly enter the public eye tonight with your dances, you would promenade in open parks to have as many eyes on you as possible. He would call on you and your meager staff would be encouraged to spread rumors. Another ball would pass together, enough to hopefully weather some of the scandal youâd created, and thenâŠ
Then, he would propose.Â
You would accept.Â
And the fate youâd been so intent on avoiding would be sealed.Â
You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking back the impending tears.Â
âI am nervous,â you admitted. âMy decision didnât exactly feel⊠real. Not until I was standing at the modiste getting fitted for this gown with one of Cardewâs maids. And all this jewelryâŠâ Your fingers trailed across the raised designs on the pendant. âIt makes it even more so.âÂ
âI can only imagine,â Julia said. âHe has certainly put in effort.âÂ
âAnd yet it all feels hollow.â You moved away from the mirror and stopped in front of your vanity. The light blue reticule sitting near your jewelry box felt as if it was mocking you.Â
Julia said your name with a sigh. âYou made your choice. You pushed him away.âÂ
âI know,â you murmured, tracing the embroidery with your finger. âBut feelings do not disappear so quickly.âÂ
âHe wrote letters,â she said. âAfter you moved from Bridgerton House to recover here, after I refused his calling on you for the hundredth time, he wrote letters and delivered them by hand.âÂ
You picked at a loose strand of white thread on the purse, jaw clenched so tight you thought your teeth might crack.Â
âHe told me he did not care if you didnât want them,â Julia continued softly. âHe just needed you to know how he felt.âÂ
âThis is how it has to be,â you finally said, voice shaking.Â
âAnd what makes you think that?â Julia challenged. âYou believe you have to live a life of misery simply because half the ton does so in the name of reputation and riches?âÂ
âTwo things I no longer have any of,â you murmured. âCardewâs pedigree is enough to get both back for my family. It is my duty, Jules, and I can no longer hide from it.âÂ
Your ladyâs maid looked at you with desperation in her eyes when there was a knock on the door followed by your mother calling your name. You nodded your permission and she opened it.
âLady Worthing,â she said, curtsying just so to your mother. âIâve finished getting her readyâIâll give the two of you some time alone.âÂ
âThank you, Julia,â your mother said with a smile. She turned back to you, her eyes softer than ever as she moved forward and set her hands on your shoulders.Â
âMy darling,â she said, âyou look so beautiful. I did not lie when I called you the crown jewel of our family.âÂ
You couldnât help but smile at her compliment, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. âThank you, Mother. Iâm glad I can make you proud.âÂ
She murmured your name, turning you so you faced the mirror. You saw yourself more this time, feeling more assured with your mother standing behind you holding all the stars in her eyes.Â
âI have always been proud of you, darling,â she murmured. âEven if I did not show it in the best way. I love you more than words can express. I meant it when I said you are our greatest achievement.âÂ
You let out a shaky breath, leaning back against her. She allowed you to sink into her and you felt the tears brimming in your eyes.Â
â...Iâm afraid, Mother,â you whispered. âTo marry. To be a wife.âÂ
She was silent for a moment, busying herself with adjusting your jewelry before she spoke.
âI was afraid too,â she admitted. âI hardly knew your father outside of a few promenades, and one lovely bouquet of flowers. It was almost fully arranged by our parents. But when he proposed, he vowed to always be my friend, and to always take care of me.âÂ
âHas he?â you asked.Â
âYes,â she said. âWe did not love each other on our wedding day. But he has always been kind to me, and he has always advocated for me, and we have always been there for each other. We love each other now, in our own way. And,â she smiled, smoothing down the lace on your sleeves, âtogether, we brought you into the world. I would do it all over again if it meant I would get you in the end.âÂ
You could not imagine considering Lord Cardew a friend, nor the opposite. He saw you as just another pretty jewel to adorn himself with.Â
Anthony saw you as a friendâ as more. He always listened to what you had to say, always entertained your jokes with some of us own, never talked down on you. He saw you as an equal.Â
 âI do not know if any woman is prepared to marry,â she finally said. âEven those that marry for love still have initial doubts. There are so many expectations of our behavior when we are told so little of what we must actually do.âÂ
âHow do you do it?â you asked. âYou married a man you didnât know. You raised a child. You held face against a society that shamed you for only having a daughter.âÂ
âAll you can do is trust in yourself, and in those around you,â she said. âIf you are with the right person, everything will feel as natural as breathing. You will not care what anything thinks of you, because there is only one opinion that matters.âÂ
There was one man you felt natural around, one who you felt you could speak your mind around and not be judged. One man that youâd fallen in love with, that surely hated you in return for what youâd done to him.Â
Your voice came out as little more than a whisper. âWhat should I do, Mother?âÂ
âYou know what you must do,â she said softly. âAll I can do is support you.âÂ
-
Youâd rubbed your palms on your dress at least fifteen times since youâd arrived. A fruitless effort, considering you were wearing gloves, but you could not stand still.Â
Your conversation with Lord Cardew had taken everything out of you, your dance with him even more soâan especially damning fate seemed ahead of you. But you could tune him out well enough, at least.Â
It was an entirely different deal when the Bridgertons showed up.Â
Violet walked in arm and arm with Anthony and Benedict, and Colin had a loose hold on Eloise. And to make matters worse, Daphne Bridgerton, alongside her husband the Duke of Hastings, were making an appearance. What an honor, to have the chance to embarrass yourself in front of such highly ranking nobles.Â
Eloise branched off immediately after they passed the threshold, much to the protests of her mother, but your mother immediately pulled you in their direction. You could only imagine her thoughtsâif she could get the Duke of Hastings touting for the Worthings, that would make things much easier. Â
Anything for the optics, you supposed. But when you met Anthonyâs eyes for the first time, you had to avert your gaze. He just looked so damn sad.Â
âIt is good to see you again, Violet,â your mother said. âAnd it is an honor, Duke and Duchess Hastings.â The both of you curtsied, and you could see the Dukeâs slight smile.Â
âI consider it my honor to meet the woman who has been the center of such conversation this season,â he said. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and thankfully Violet stepped in.Â
âIt is good to see you as well, Cecilia.â Violet smiled as she looked at you. âEspecially you, my dear.âÂ
You bowed your head. âThank you, Lady Bridgerton, Duke Hastings. I am grateful to be here.âÂ
Benedict smiled, the notion warmer than anything you deserved. âYou look lovely, Miss Worthing. Especially for someone who escaped death with such recency.â
Anthonyâs eyes remained on you the entire time, and more than anything you wished you could read this mind. The man probably hated you, and he had every right to do so. You just wished your feelings for him werenât so insurmountable.Â
You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled as believably as you could. âThank you, Mister Bridgerton. You also look well.â
Your mother nudged your shoulder and your gaze met Anthonyâs once more. He still hadnât looked away from you.Â
You bowed your head once more. âLord Bridgerton. It⊠is good to see you.â
No wonder you actually ended up falling in love with Anthony. It was the only way anyone could believe this ruseâyou were quite an awful actress.Â
Anthony lowered his head as well, his poise stiff. âA pleasure, Miss Worthing.â
âWeâre glad to see youâre doing well,â Violet said, her smile a bit thin. You could only imagine the conversation that would occur between her and your mother later. âYou caused us all quite a scare.â
âOh, Anthony was so worried,â Daphne said, pressing a hand to her chest. âIâm thankful we have the chance to attend this ball so I could see you in person.âÂ
âIâve recovered well,â you nodded, and you looked at Violet. âMy family and I thank you immensely for your kindness and your doctorâs care. Weâll be in your debt endlessly.â
âThere is no need for that,â Violet said. âIt is enough that you are still here.â
Your cheeks burned but you tried to smile anyways. You wanted to burrow into a hole and never come out. It seemed the Bridgertons were capable of endless grace in public when they surely had to despise you.Â
âEloise has run off somewhere over near the strings,â Benedict provided in the silence. âIâm sure she would appreciate your companionship tonight.â
You glanced at your mother and she nodded, and your smile at Benedict was much more genuine. âOf course. Iâve been meaning to talk with her.âÂ
You mouthed thank you to him when your mother could not see, and he nodded. Heâd always been so decent to you.Â
You could not help but glance at Anthony as you went, and his gaze followed you. He would resent you if he had any sense, but it seemed the oppositeâthe sadness in his eyes was fatal.
You took a glass of lemonade from the refreshments table when you passed it, needing something to do with your hands. You found your way to Eloiseâs side soon enough, and her eyes lit up when she caught sight of you.
âIt is so good to see you,â she breathed. âIâve only just arrived, and Iâve already had to fend off suitors. They just cannot seem to understand I hold such little care for them.âÂ
âI am just as glad to see you,â you admitted. âI do not think I can get through this night alone.âÂ
âI cannot imagine why,â Eloise said sarcastically. âIâve heard the news. And I must say, it is your poorest decision this season.â
Your laugh was mostly out of surprise, and you nearly dropped the flute of lemonade you were holding. You were on edge far more than you expectedâyou almost wished your glass was full of champagne.Â
âAt least somebody is speaking plainly,â you murmured, your gaze distant and unfocused. âI think the rest of your family must hate me, but theyâre all too kind to say it.âÂ
Eloise frowned. âWhy would any of them hate you?âÂ
Your grip tightened on your glass. âBecause I caused an immense scandal and then ended things with Anthony?â
She huffed a laugh, her eyebrows now rising. âOur family has weathered many a scandal, and we are still here. Or have you forgotten how Daphneâs dearest husband chose to court her?â Â
âThat is different,â you insisted.Â
âI think it is worse, actually,â Eloise said plainly. âSimon is a duke, and Anthony nearly killed him before Daphne knocked some sense into him.â She chuckled and shook her head. âTruly, it was a disaster. We Bridgertons have a knack for them.âÂ
âAs do I,â you said with a loose laugh. âI was stabbed, Eloise. I nearly died in your brotherâs arms.âÂ
âAnd we nearly died in our drawing room,â she said. âAnthony, most of all. He cares for you immensely.âÂ
âSurely he cannot,â you insisted. âNot after what Iâve done.âÂ
âI am not blind,â Eloise said, âand neither are you. So do not demerit our intelligence and pretend as if you do not see it.âÂ
âIâ I know.â You wrapped your arms around your midsection, and you grimaced as the jewelry on your wrists brushed against your skin. You were covered head to toe in finery that didnât belong to you, and you itched from the inside out. âBut I donât know where to go from here.âÂ
âItâs quite obvious, isnât it?â Eloise looked across the room, where Lord Cardew stood talking to your mother, and then over at her brother, who couldnât have been less interested in the lady trying to strike up conversation with him. Then her gaze fell to you. âYouâve got a choice to make.âÂ
âIâve already ruined things,â you murmured. âIâ I canât just back out of this.â
âI can tell you that you certainly havenât ruined things with my brother. And Lady Whistledownâs speculation is the only thing binding you to that lecher.â Eloise shrugged. âYouâve already broken off one courtship. Whatâs another?â
Your eyes met Anthonyâs from across the room. Once again, heâd already been looking at you. You averted your gaze quickly, feeling the heat rush to your face, and you tried to steady your breathing. He had no right to still have such an effect on you.Â
âI need some air,â you murmured. âWill youââ
âOf course,â Eloise said. âYou are simply touching things up in the powder room.â
You nodded your thanks and slipped out of the ballroom, finally able to drop the facade youâd been trying to uphold. You truly felt as if you were overheating, and the cool air was hardly of aid once you reached the outdoors.
Everything was all wrongâyour dress, this damned tiara, the bracelets and the necklaces and every jewel that Cardew thought he could buy you with.Â
It all belonged to him. You would not be another prize on his shelf.Â
You couldnât help yourself. You began to shed the jewelry as your pace sped up, ripping bangles from your wrists and pendants from your neckâby the time you reached a deserted area of the gardens, you were considerably lighter and considerably close to tears.Â
You let out a frustrated sob as you slammed your fists against some artistic stone structure. It earned you nothing but pain, but it grounded you in some strange way. You tore off your gloves and threw them to the ground, a shaky breath escaping you as you screwed your eyes shut and pressed your palms to your forehead.Â
You could not marry traditionally, you could not follow through with your feelings for Anthony, and now you could not follow through with this ill-advised plan.Â
Were you truly this useless? To bring ruin to two families with your knack for destroying things for it all to amount to nothing? You waxed poetic about the life you thought you deserved to live, about going to university and gaining your independence and never marrying, and yet here you were, near tears in the gardens of the ball you were meant to reenter society at.Â
âMiss Worthing.â
The whispered words blared through the silence, and you knew who it was without having to turn around. It still sent a shock through you, your breathing faltering for a moment. Your eyes stayed shut.Â
âWhy are you here?â you asked, your voice watery.Â
âYou do not know me if you think there is anywhere else I would be,â he said.Â
âHow did you find me?â
âI followed the trail of jewels. Youâve left an awfully expensive path in your wake.â
âAll of it is worthless,â you mumbled, finally letting your hands drop. âIt all belongs to Lord Cardew.â
âYouâll have made a magpie very happy.âÂ
âEnough with the jokes,â you said. âWhy are you here?âÂ
âWhy do you think?â Anthony asked with a slight laugh.Â
âI do not know,â you responded. âThat is why I asked.âÂ
âI am here because I want to talk to you,â he said. âYou cannot just avoid me for the rest of the season.â
You turned away. âI can try.â
âI will not let you,â Anthony enunciated. âI will not let you make the biggest mistake of your life because you believe it is your duty.â
âIf you are here to change my mind, you are wasting your time,â you said stiffly.Â
âI donât believe I have to do anything,â Anthony said. âIt looks as if youâve come to the conclusion yourself.âÂ
âAnd what makes you think that?â
âYou have not even glanced in Cardewâs direction this entire night,â he said. âYouâve been looking at me instead.âÂ
âBecause I have felt your eyes on me with every moment.âÂ
Anthony huffed. âCan you blame me? This is the first time I have seen you since that night.âÂ
âThen you should remember my words from that night,â you bit out.Â
âWhy are you so intent on pushing me away?â Anthony begged.Â
You scoffed. âWhy are you so intent on bothering me?â
âBecause I cannot stand here and watch you marry another!â he exclaimed.
Your brows furrowed and you turned around. Anthony stood in front of you, his outfit impeccable but not at all looking put together. Desperation colored his eyes, and you saw how truly undone heâd become.Â
âIâ I thought I could, but I cannot.â He shook his head, a muscle working in his jaw as he glanced away. âEvery moment you are in the vicinity of that man is a test of my strength. And I do not know how strong I am.âÂ
âI donât understand,â you said hollowly. âYou should hate me.âÂ
âI could never hate you,â Anthony murmured. âI thought I could, when you first told me of your plans, butâ but I could hardly even dislike you.â A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. âMy mother had been bothering me for nearly a decade to find a wife and settle down, but I thought love was a foolâs game. I would have my fun as a bachelor, and then settle down with the most advantageous match. There was no need for further emotional baggageâwhen you love, you can lose. And I refused to lose again.âÂ
For a moment, your heart stopped in your chest. He lost his father, he nearly lost you, and then you pushed him away like he meant nothing.Â
âAnthonyââ you whispered, but he shook his head.Â
âPlease,â he said. âI have a lot to say.âÂ
You nodded, and he did as well.Â
âOur deal was perfect for that. You were nothing but my sisterâs nuisance of a friendâa bad influence that I could never see as more.â You could not help your soft laugh, and Anthonyâs smile turned a bit more genuine.Â
âBut then we spent more time together. I⊠truly began to know you.â He shook his head with a chuckle. âYou shattered every preconception I had of you. I began to look forward to our meetings, to our promenadesâI would get home from calling on you and could think only of the next time I would see you.âÂ
âThroughout it all, you made me realize I was worthy of love,â he said. âYouâ you made me realize that I wanted it. That I wanted you.â His throat bobbed, and you could see his eyes glistening. âThat I loved you.âÂ
You could hardly find the strength to speak. You felt as if you could melt into a puddle at his feet just from his words. You were so intent on avoiding Anthony because you couldnât stand the thought of hurting him anymoreâ you believed he would be better off without you, without the scandal youâd dragged him into.Â
But he⊠he loved you.Â
He loved you just as you loved him.Â
âI do not expect you to share any of my notions, and I know you value your freedom more than anything,â Anthony murmured. âSo if it is not me you wish to be with, I understand, and I will accept it without complaint. I just beg of youâdo not become that wretched manâs wife.âÂ
All you could do was stare at him for a moment more, words beyond your reach before you finally managed to speak through your emotions.Â
âI tried to tell myself the exact same thing,â you said softly. âThat you could not be happy with me. That I could never be happy chained to anotherâtruly, that I could never love. Not when freedom is what I have always desired most. But AnthonyâŠâ you moved forward until you were mere centimeters apart, unable to suppress the shiver that ran through you at the proximity, âI have never felt more free than when I am with you.âÂ
âMissââ Anthony started, but he paused and shook his head before saying your first name instead. His eyes were softer than anything. âAre you trulyâŠ?âÂ
âI could never fathom you sharing my feelings,â you said thickly. âThat is why I pushed you away. But I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I think I have loved you for quite some time.âÂ
You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, turning away so as to not betray the fullness of your emotions, and though you opened your mouth to provide some excuse, you were not granted the chance.Â
Anthonyâs hand encircled your wrist, pulling you back around, and just as soon did you feel his lips against yours. The tightness in your chest dissolved almost immediately as you all but fell into him, Anthony wrapping his arms around you to support you as your hands found purchase on anything they could.Â
Your focus became devoted solely to the feeling of him, his soft lips against yours even as they plied for access. Anthony held you as if his only desire were to protect you from the world, and it made you feel a way youâd never even imagined. Only when air became a necessity did he pull away, his labored breaths in contrast to the pure adoration in his eyes.Â
âNever in a thousand years did I think you would feel the same,â he murmured, his hands cupping your face on either side as he gazed into your eyes. âI thought myself a fool, falling for the one woman I could not have. Youâve no idea the relief it brings to hear you share my feelings.â
âI suppose I am just as foolish as you,â you breathed. Your heart felt as if it could burst.Â
The corners of his lips quirked up in a smile. âI cannot imagine what my mother would thinkâthat after so long spent searching for a wife, I fell for the one woman who never wanted the title.âÂ
You let out an airy laugh, relishing the feeling of his skin against yours. âNor did I see myself falling for the one man who resented the chains of marriage as much as I.âÂ
Anthony pressed his lips against yours once more, and your hands traveled up until they tangled in his hair. You kissed until you were nearly breathless, but Anthony still managed to pull a very unladylike sound out of you as he bowed his head, kissing down the line of your jaw, your neck, until his teeth nipped your skin just above your decolletage.
âAnthony,â you gasped, clenching your fingers as they buried themselves further into his dark locks. You had never been this close with a man before, never this intimate â you never thought you would even desire it.Â
But Anthony lit a fire inside of you that only he could quench, and yet the only thing he seemed to do was stoke it further. It was equally maddening and dizzying, the control he so effortlessly had over you.Â
âI never knew how much I would delight in hearing you say my name,â he murmured, his lips trailing against your skin. âNo more Lord Bridgerton, I beg of you.â
âI should think Iâd like to hear you begââ you breathed, but Anthony cut you off yet again as he pulled you into another searing kiss. You could hardly stand it anymore as your hands fell down to his shoulders, and you pulled away for just a moment as you began desperately undoing his waistcoat, Anthony taking the hint and removing his jacket.Â
âThese buttons were not designed with the needs of a lady in mind,â you huffed in frustration, fumbling fingers failing to make progress, and Anthony chuckled breathlessly.
âHave we finally found something I best you in?â he asked, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.
âJust take it off.â
He raised an eyebrow. âIs that all?â
You groaned as you looked at him. âIf you insist on teasing me this way, Lord Bridgerton, I shall go back inside and act as if nothing has happened.â
âThere is no need for idle threats,â he defended, and you bit back your smile. Anthony made deft work of his waistcoat, and the second he tossed it aside he was back on you.Â
âBesides,â his voice was a whisper a millimeter from your ear, and warmth blazed in your core, âI believe I told you to call me Anthony.â
âAnd I believe you should have to try harder than that.â You smiled into his kiss as you trailed your nails down his back, the thin fabric of his dress shirt doing little as you felt his involuntary shiver.Â
âYouâve no idea the effect you have on me,â he groaned, once again dipping his head as he peppered even more kisses down your neck, sliding down the sleeve of your dress to allow himself better access.Â
The night air on your newly freed skin did little for you, any coolness of the breeze instantly negated by the heat of Anthony against you. Your nails dug into his back as he moved down, each spot where his lips touched your skin erupting with fire.Â
You gasped out his name, barely able to handle itâthe feeling was so foreign yet familiar, as if you had been waiting all your life for Anthony in this way.Â
You could hardly believe you nearly lost it of your own accord.Â
âIt appears I do not have to try hard at all,â he said, âthe way you cry out for me.âÂ
You laughed breathlessly, though his words were indeed true. You knew, in this moment, that you would do anything for Anthony Bridgertonâand he would do anything for you. âHow I fell for a man as irritating as you, I havenât the slightest.âÂ
You caught the slightest glimpse of his grin before he ducked his head yet again, and he had only just begun pushing both sleeves of your dress down when a womanâs voice could be heard behind you.Â
âAnthonyâ oh!âÂ
The unfamiliar voice struck fear into your heart you had never felt the likes of before. Anthony moved away from you quicker than youâd ever seen, you just as hasty as you tugged the sleeves of your dress back to where they belonged and attempted to smooth out everything that Anthony had so easily sullied.Â
Youâd never imagined this was how your reputation would be ruined, with Anthony Bridgerton in the gardens of some ball, but when you finally had the sense to look and see who had caught you in a most uncompromising position, you could hardly stifle your incredulous laugh.Â
âSister?â Anthony questioned in disbelief, so many emotions warring on his face you had to turn away to cover up your growing grin.Â
âAnthony,â Daphne greeted in kind, fighting to conceal her smile as her eyes drifted to you. âMiss Worthing.âÂ
âYour Grace!â Your shaky fingers were hardly of use to you as you pulled your gloves back up to where they belonged and once again ran your hands down the skirt of your dress to smooth out the wrinkles. Your cheeks burned under her gaze and you were innately aware of the fire underneath your skin brought about by Anthonyâs touch in contrast to the cool night air. âWhat brings you here?âÂ
âMother was quite⊠nervous about tonight,â she explained. âShe indulged in one too many glasses of champagne, so she is taking her leave with Benedict for aid. She requested I find you to alert you of her departure, but it seems she was not the one whose disappearance should have been questioned.âÂ
âIâm sure you know this is quite compromising.â Thinly veiled amusement crossed Daphneâs face as she eyed you pointedly. âI am afraid you must marry him at once Miss Worthing, else I shall have to duel you to protect my brotherâs honor.âÂ
You laughed breathlessly as Anthony looked up at the sky, his face turning a deeper shade of red than you had ever seen. âYour Grace, are you suggesting that I have ruined him?âÂ
âIndeed I am,â she confirmed, and you could see how it took every muscle of her being to retain a serious image. âThis is not a light matter, miss. I do not understand why you are laughing.âÂ
âDaphne,â Anthony groaned, avoiding her eyes as he occupied himself with his jacket. âWhy do you insist on being a nuisance?âÂ
âAnthony,â she inflected his name the same way he did hers, âI cannot have this woman sullying your name! I know it was of no will of your own, but this can not stand as is. But do not worry; I am prepared to defend your honor to my last breath.âÂ
âMy sincerest apologies for what I have done, Duchess Hastings,â you responded gravely. âI am prepared for pistols at dawn.âÂ
Anthony huffed as he buttoned his waistcoat back up then went to retrieve his jacket from the bushes. âYou exaggerate, the both of you. This cannot be what I was like last season.âÂ
âYou were worse, brother. But do not worry,â Daphne said with a grin, âI should think a taste of your own practices is only fair after all you put Simon and me through.â
Anthony sighed with a slight roll of his eyes. âI⊠suppose⊠that it is what I deserve.âÂ
âThank you, brother,â she said. âI only wish we had a witness just so your confession is forever remembered.â
âI wish Mother had not sent you to seek me out,â he responded dryly.Â
You and Daphne exchanged smiles with each other before your expression sobered slightly. â I ask quite a bit of you with this, Your Grace, but⊠may I count on your discretion? I know we jest, but my reputation truly could not handle something like this. I do not know ifâŠâ you glanced at Anthony before looking back to her, âif we are yet ready to seal our union.âÂ
âOf course,â Daphne nodded, and a relieved smile tugged at your lips. âI shall not tell a soul.âÂ
âThank you eternally, Your Grace,â you expressed, but at your short curtsy she shook her head.
âPlease, call me Daphne.â She offered a smile of her own, slightly coy. âAfter what I have just witnessed, Iâve no doubt you will be joining our family soon enough.âÂ
âSister!â Anthony scolded, and when you glanced at him his entire face was dusted pink, even the tips of his ears. It was enough to make you swoon. âYou cannot just say things whenever you see fit.âÂ
Daphne merely shrugged, joyfully indifferent to her brotherâs protests. âI outrank you now, dearest brother â I believe I can say whatever I see fit, particularly when it is the truth.â
âYou are truly impossible,â Anthony muttered as he shook his head.Â
Daphne just smiled before she looked back at you. âI believe it best if the two of you leave at separate times, so as to not allow room for any rumors. Miss Worthing, you should go first and return to your mother; you can claim you simply needed fresh air. Anthony and I will stroll around the grounds for a bit before allowing ourselves to be seen â we are simply catching up after such a stretch spent at Clyvedon.â
You nodded, taking a deep breath as you smoothed your mussed hair and wrinkled dress for the last time. Anthony certainly did a number on you, in more ways than one. âThank you again, Yourââ you caught yourself, correcting your error with a small smile, âDaphne.Â
âYou may count on me in the future whenever I am in London,â she reassured. âIt is my hope anyway that I shall be able to welcome you to the family officially.â
âDaphne!â Anthony exclaimed yet again, glaring at her. âMight you take your leave so we may have a moment alone?âÂ
âI believe you just had quite a few moments alone,â Daphne said, but a pointed look from her brother had her conceding with a smile. âAlright. I will be by the trees when you need me.âÂ
Anthony turned to you with an odd look in his eyes when Daphne was out of hearing distance, and when he did eventually speak, his voice was far softer than usual.Â
âDo you truly believe I would not marry you?â he asked, and the underlying hurt in his voice did not go unnoticed. âEven if there were not the risk of a scandal, I would not hesitate. My entire heart lies with you.â
âIt is not you, Anthony,â you sighed with a slight shake of your head. âI do not⊠I do not know if I am even capable of marriage.âÂ
He frowned. âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âI have spent my entire life running from it,â you said, chuckling softly, âand yet, here I am, the one thing I never thought I would be.â
âIn love,â Anthony realized, and you nodded.Â
âIt has always been easy enough to denounce marriage when Iâd never experienced anything of the like. The union of my parents was for convenience rather than love, and for as long as Iâve been alive my mother has tried to drill it into my head that my feelings did not matter â so long as the man had the means to provide for me and was not completely awful, he was satisfactory.â
âA future like thatâ it was so completely absurd to me that denouncing it all was the easiest thing in the world. And then I nearly died and my entire world changed, and I decided that Cardew was the best option to allow myself to completely separate emotion from marriage, but nowâŠâ you looked at Anthony, feeling more vulnerable now than ever. âI have found a love in you Iâve never thought possible, and I cannot stop imagining a life with you. And that terrifies me more than anything.âÂ
âButâŠâ you trailed off again and you turned away from him as you wrapped your arms around yourself. âBut I do not know how to approach my future, especially one where we are so closely intertwined.âÂ
Silence hung in the air for a noticeable period before Anthony cleared his throat, and it was obvious the care he put into his words.Â
âYou know I never imagined I would marry for love. Truly, I never intended itâI expected to be miserable in marriage. I saw it as nothing more than another duty to take care of. I believed that love was trivial, a ridiculous distraction. You are the one who made me see differently.âÂ
You turned around with slightly wide eyes, your arms wrapped around your midsection doing little to ward off the cool night air that seemed far colder than it was before. Anthonyâs gaze never left yours, the softness in his own at odds with the pure, unbridled passion.Â
âI love you. Though I have only just allowed myself to accept the fact, you are someone that I cannot imagine living the rest of my days without. There wasâŠâ his throat bobbed as his voice crackled slightly, âthere was a moment when I feared the worst, that you would permanently disappear from my life. And ever since you were all but brought back from the dead, I have known that you are the only woman I wish to be with. It is why as soon as I left you, I asked my mother for this.âÂ
Anthony took a box out of his pocket, and you gasped as he got down on one knee, your hands flying up to cover your mouth.Â
âThis is the ring my father proposed to my mother with, and their love was beyond anything I have seen before. But it is the love that I feel for you, something so strong, so overwhelmingâ something I never thought I would experience. And yet here I am, madly in love with the one woman who scorned me with every word, and only pursued me because of my brand as a lesser evil.âÂ
A laugh bubbled out of you, the sound slightly muffled through your gloves, and you could not help it as your eyes began to fill with tears.Â
âI admire you; all of you. The part that loves her family with every part of her being, that looks out for those with less than her when those more fortunate turn a blind eye. The part that fights for the rights of her sex when it is so much easier to just bow oneâs head, that puts her happiness on a rightful pedestalâ the part that is so terrified to share herself with others and yet deserves a love of the purest form.â
âAnd I am aware of how the unknown is a fear of yours, as it is one of mine. But I assure youââ Anthonyâs voice was filled with such passion, his eyes with such love, that you could hardly stand it, ââI will be there for you every step of the way. We will face our fears as one, and we will shape the future ourselves, not to be bound by anyone or anything.âÂ
âI do not know where my future will lead me, but I know I do not want to face a single second of it without you. If you do not feel the same, I understand, but I will not be able to live with myself if I do not at least try. It is why I ask you,â Anthony said your name with more love than ever before, âwill you marry me?â
âYes,â you sobbed, a smile breaking across your face even as tears of joy streamed down your cheeks. âYes, yes, I will marry you!â
Anthony let out a sigh of relief as he grinned, and after he slid the ring on your finger he stood up and pulled you into a breathless kiss. Nothing picture perfect like youâd heard about as a young girl, the kind of effortless gentlemanâs actâ Anthony kissed you with pure passion, love, desire, and it nearly brought you to your knees. You thought it would have, were it not for Anthonyâs strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you against him and supporting you.Â
You could hardly believe the same man who treated you as if you were glass after your injury was the one standing before you now, the one who handled you in such a way that could get the both of you exiled were anyone to seeâthe one that you thought hated you. Â
And you were more than willing to allow it to continue, to surrender yourself fully to your baser instincts, when you remembered something that made your eyes widen.
âYour sister,â you murmured between kisses until you finally managed to pull away, albeit reluctantly. âDaphne is still waiting.â
Anthony laughed breathlessly as he pulled you back in, and your earlier protest was shown to be completely nonsensical. âLet her wait.âÂ
You grinned as he peppered kisses down your neck, enjoying the sensation until you pushed him away. âAnthony.âÂ
He groaned. âWhy must you be a better person than I?â
âBelieve when I say it pains me,â you said. âBut the last thing we need is yet another scandal by my hand.âÂ
âLet them know,â he said, taking your hands in his. âLet all of London know that I love you, that we will be wed. I do not care what we have to face so long as we face it together.âÂ
âThe thought has never been so tempting,â you murmured. âBut you should at least alert your sister. It would be improper to make her wait out here all night for nothing.âÂ
His grip tightened on your hands. âSo you do wish to leave together?âÂ
âAnthony, I just accepted your proposal,â you said with a laugh. âI wish to spend the rest of our lives together.âÂ
âI believe tonight is a good place to start, then,â he grinned.Â
Anthony would not let you leave his side, so you went to Daphne together. First she saw your smile, then her gaze drifted down to your handâshe looked knowingly at her brother, though she could not hide her smile either.Â
âIt would appear as if I was right,â she mused. âI am always right when it comes to you though, Anthony, so it is not much of a surprise.âÂ
âDo not mock me,â Anthony said. âI could have left you waiting by the bushes all night.âÂ
âIf you had not proposed to her after the conversation we had the other day, I would have questioned your sense,â Daphne said. âTrust me, I would not have been here long.âÂ
Your eyebrows rose. âWhat conversation?âÂ
âWe do not need to start on this,â he said with a pointed look at his sister. âI have already bared my entire soul tonight. I do not need my sister embarrassing me further.âÂ
âOh, I would never,â Daphne drawled. âAfter all, there will be plenty of time for us to gossip together when I come to visit you all.âÂ
âWonât you be busy with your child?â Anthony asked.Â
She shrugged. âYou may be busy with one as well by the time I see you again.âÂ
You looked at Anthony only to find his gaze was already on you. There must have been some shred of doubt in your eyes, because he only took your hand in his.Â
âI meant what I said,â he murmured. âWe will take things as slowly as you desire.âÂ
You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat and nodded as you squeezed his handsâyou knew what was expected of you as a wife, and you wanted it with Anthony, but you could not lie and say that his reassurances did not bring you relief.Â
âMy best wishes to the new Viscountess Bridgerton,â Daphne said, her voice full of affection as she clasped her hands together. âIt is an honor to have you join our family.âÂ
âIt is an honor to be accepted,â you said, bowing your head.Â
Daphne smiled. âI assume you want to reveal this on your own terms.âÂ
You nodded. âIâve dealt with enough attention from the ton lately.âÂ
âI am afraid to say that will not go away,â she said wryly. âBut I will cover for the two of you.âÂ
You pressed a hand to your chest. âThank you.âÂ
âIt is only proper to welcome my sister in such a way,â she said with a wink, and you could not help but smile. âNow run along, you two. Before rumors start.âÂ
Anthony chuckled, and the two of them embraced before you started on your way.
âViscountess Bridgerton,â Anthony murmured in your ear. âI love the sound of that.âÂ
You hummed in agreement. âAs do I.âÂ
You laid your head on Anthonyâs shoulder as you walked back with your hands intertwinedânot to the ball, but to a carriage for the promise of time alone. You glanced over at Anthony and he smiled, and you pulled him to a stop as you pressed a kiss to his lips. He responded with hunger, the same vigor he displayed when you first stepped into the gardens together, and you could hardly believe he still had it left in him.Â
Far too many minutes passed as you kissed and kissed and kissed, not a single care in the world of someone catching you. What could they do? Youâd already endured enough scandal to weather anything, and there was no way to punish you and Anthony â you were already engaged.Â
Your lips were sure to be bruised once you finally pulled away, Anthony gazing at you with complete adoration as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.Â
âI cannot believe you are to be my wife,â he murmured.Â
âI cannot believe you are to be my husband,â you breathed. âWhen will we reveal it?âÂ
âTomorrow,â he said, intertwining your hands with his own. âTomorrow, we will tell everyone, and we will deal with everything that comes along with it. But tonightâŠâÂ
âIt is our secret.â
Anthony nodded. âTonight, we start the rest of our lives together.âÂ
âThe rest of our lives together,â you murmured.Â
Truly, it sounded like a dream. Months ago you could not even consider the thought of marriage without an air of disgustânow, here with Anthony, you could not stop thinking about the fact that you were to be his wife.Â
The rest of your life with Anthony would be anything but simple.
And yet, somehow, you could not think of anything more perfect.
-
taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy
#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x you#anthony bridgerton fic#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton fic#anthony bridgerton fanfic#x reader#bridgerton imagine#sadie writes
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Alr hear me out, the service top lucifer with a very insecure reading. (Fem or GN) like he has to coax the reader to like open up (God damn I'm blushing thinking abt it-). Maybe even having to like talk them into even taking thier clothes off. Just a little idea stuck in my head.
Thank you very muchly.
Ooooooohh youâre giving me IDEAS (tbh Iâd be the same boat)
~~~~
âšOpening Upâš
Lucifer x f!reader
Warnings: 18+, smut, nipple play, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, service top!Lucifer
It has become evident that I am unable to write anything concise đ
IâM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I MEANT TO POST THIS DAYS AGO đđ
Tag list: @trashbin-nie
@yellowsubiesdance
@j-jinxee
@stevensdickrider
@airwolf92
@mrssabinecallas
@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis
@bee-sinner
@thesoccerenthusiast
@katshyperfixations
@logybearsblog
@bigfatbimbo
You sat upright on Luciferâs king sized bed, the King of Hell straddling your lap. You don't know how you even ended up in this position, not on this bed necessarily, but how you ended up as Lucifer's beloved. You believed in your heart that you did not deserve him, but time and time again Lucifer has showered you with praise and adoration like no one ever had before. He was perfect. And you were...you. It didn't make sense.
Regardless, that didn't stop him from holding your face tenderly in his hands while he kissed you with a fiery passion. You were self conscious about being so vocal around him during intimacy, but he made it his mission to elicit as many moans and whines from you as possible. Slowly, he reached down to the hem of your sleep shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Your eyes popped open, your mind racing. You pulled away from his lips and went to grab his wrist that held your clothing.
"I-I'm sorry, love," he apologized, releasing your shirt immediately. You sighed and let go of the grip you had on his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you, I should have asked. Please forgive me."
"No, no," you breathed, "it's alright. I'm not upset, I just panicked. I'm sorry."
Lucifer pressed his lips to your forehead and planted a small kiss. "Please don't ever think you need to apologize to me for how you feel, sweetheart."
"O-Ok," you stuttered.
"Do you want to stop?," Lucifer asked. You could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Hard as it was to believe, he cared about you more than anything.
You shook your head. "No."
"You're sure?," Lucifer questioned further, "because if you're uncomfortable, we can-"
You cut him of mid-sentence with a quick peck to his lips. He smiled bashfully, a cute blush spreading across his face. "Believe me, Luci, I want this. I mean I really want this, but..." you found it difficult to articulate what you wanted to say.
"Well, if that's the case darling, what if I go first then?," Lucifer proposed. You cocked your head, unsure of what he was talking about. He reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, starting from the top and working his way down. Oh...OH.
Your face instantly feels hotter and your breathing becomes staggered. You tried to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Your mouth had never felt drier. He finally reached the last button of his shirt and you finally see some of his chest. You could almost feel your brain short circuiting.
"Do you wanna do the honors, my dear?," he asked playfully. You gulped as your hands reached towards his shoulders. Gingerly, you slid his sleeves down each arm, slowly revealing more and more skin to you. Once his shirt was completely removed, you couldnât help but stare. His chest was so smooth and toned, almost like it had been sculpted. âLike what you see?â Lucifer questioned coyly, noticing your unwavering expression of awe.
"W-Well that's hardly fair," you whispered, finally finding your voice, "you're an actual angel. Of course you're going to be gorgeous, I-" you slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized what you had said. "Please pretend you didn't hear that!," you begged through your hand.
Lucifer's face was flushed pink, he could help but smile. He chuckled as he went to remove your hand from your face. "Is that what you really think about me, sweetheart? I'm truly flattered to hear that coming from someone as exquisite as you."
"You...You really think..." you started to say but couldn't finish. Tears began to well up in your eyes, you tried to rub them away before Lucifer could see but it was too late. Lucifer cupped your face and ran his thumbs under your eyes to clear away the tears that had fallen. Your breath hitched, you tried to take in deep heavy breaths so you wouldn't start sobbing.
âHey, hey, hey, shhhhh,â he spoke with a soothing tone. He removed himself from your lap and sat down next to you, embracing you in his arms. âItâs okay, angel, itâs ok. I upset you and Iâm sorry, I never want to be the reason you cry.â He rested his head on top of yours while you clung to his chest. The scent of him hit your nostrils, it was like breathing in a warm spring day. Purely intoxicating. It calmed you down, you started to breathe normally again. You felt safe in his arms, you could have stayed there for the rest of your life.
You wrapped your arms around his torso, your tears finally drying. âThank you, Lucifer,â you murmured. He gave you a tight squeeze before you lifted yourself back up, sitting at his hip and leaving your head on his shoulder. âYou werenât the reason I was sad, you know? You never have been.â
Lucifer turned his head to you, âReally? Then why-?â
âBecause Iâm afraid,â you quickly responded. âIâm afraid that Iâm not good enough for you. That I never will be. Youâre the all mighty Lucifer, King of Hell. You have so much strength and power and respect. And IâmâŠIâm just me.â You sighed and pulled your legs up to your chest to rest your head on your knees. âIâm sorry, I shouldnât have-â
âDarling?,â Lucifer spoke at last. He brought himself in front of you on all fours and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him in his scarlet eyes. â âJust youâ is perfect. You donât need to be anything but yourself! I understand what youâre feeling, and itâs okay to express that. But please know that I love you just the way you are. You are my true strength.â
You chuckled softly, leaning into his hand that was now pressed against your cheek. You took his words to heart; he loved you. He loved you so much. You had to show him that you felt the same way. You drew in a few quick and deep breaths before reaching for the hem of your sleep shirt.
âWait, wait, what are you-â Lucifer tried to say, but you were too fast. Your shirt disappeared from your body and was tossed across the room. Silence filled the space, the only thing you could hear was your heart threatening to burst through your chest.
It was at that moment you noticed you couldnât see Luciferâs face. His hands had flown up to block his view of you.
âLucifer?â you called to him.
âY-You didnât have to do that, love,â he stuttered. âI never wanted you to feel that you had to-â
âPlease look at me, Luci,â you pleaded. âI love you. And I trust you. Let me show you. Please.â
You saw Luciferâs hands slowly fall away from his hands, his eyes still screwed shut. âAre you sure?â he asked softly.
You leaned in to plant a kiss on his soft lip. Luciferâs eyes shot open in surprise, you pulled away before he had a chance to react. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you saw him staring at you. Your first instinct was to cover yourself and shy away, but you pushed those feelings deep down. You were going to be vulnerable, you needed to be brave. Not just for him, but for yourself. You gripped the bed sheets so hard that you felt your nails digging into your skin through the silk.
After what seemed like an eternity, Lucifer had snapped out of his trance. He started to crawl towards you on his hands and knees, only stopping when his lips were inches away from your own. You felt his hot breath on you, you were finding it more and more difficult to keep your composure.
âYouâŠare breathtaking,â he cooed, crashing his lips into yours hungrily. His tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, and you happily allowed it. You felt yourself slowly drifting down onto your back as you and Lucifer desperately devoured each other. He pulled away from your lips, trying to catch his breath, but you noticed he wasnât looking into your eyes. His attention had drifted a little further down. He swallowed hard.
âMay I?,â Lucifer asked breathlessly. Your face felt extremely hot and you couldnât find the power to speak, so instead you nodded your head vigorously. He gave you a cheeky grin before lowering his mouth down onto one of your nipples. The noise you made sounded more high pitched than you meant it, but God, did it feel amazing! His tongue worked one nipple as his hand played with the other. You loved the sensation of him sucking and licking at your sensitive skin, the tiny bites from his teeth driving you insane. He rolled your other nipple between his two fingers, the pinches he gave sent your brain into overdrive. You never knew how sensitive you were, but Lucifer was more than happy to service you.
All of a sudden you noticed a different sensation, you felt something press against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your clothed pussy. It took your brain a few seconds to realize what was happening.
âUhh, Lucifer, a-are youâŠâ, you mumbled. Lucifer looked up from your chest with a puzzled face. âI can feel umm, I-I can feel your uhhâŠâ, you didnât know why you couldnât say it. Maybe you were too embarrassed, which seemed silly considering what position you found yourself in. You pointed down towards your pants where Lucifer was wedged.
âOhâŠOH,â Lucifer exclaimed pushing himself from you and onto his knees. âOh my gosh, I-Iâm so sorry! I didnât realize you could uhh, feel thatâŠplease forgive me!â
Seeing him so flustered somehow calmed some of the nerves you had before. It was cute, really. Demon overlord Lucifer getting embarrassed about unintentionally pushing his hard on against your thigh. You let out a small giggle.
"It's alright, Luci," you chuckled. "I'm flattered, really!"
Lucifer smiled, placing his hand behind him to rub the back of his neck. "I'm still sorry about that, love. I'm a little embarrassed."
âWell,â you breathed, âI guess itâs only fair that I embarrass myself too then, right?â Without warning, you grabbed the waistband of your pants and ripped them off along with your panties in one fell swoop. You laid naked in front of Lucifer, whose whole face had turned a shade of red youâve never seen before.
âFfffuck,â was all Lucifer could muster. You watched his Adamâs apple rise and fall, attempting to regain his thoughts. Looking at you, it was plain to see how soaked you were.
âLike what you see?,â you teased. Lucifer nodded his head eagerly, still at a loss for words. You lifted your hand and curled your finger, beckoning him to you. Obediently, Lucifer crawled on the bed towards you with no reservations. âYouâre not the only one thatâs worked up here. Now weâre even.â
âMy love, pleaseâŠâ Lucifer whined, âplease let me taste you.â
"Don't you...wanna get more comfortable first?," you asked him, knowing the problem in his pants had probably only gotten worse for him.
"Not until I've had my fill of you, sweetheart," he smiled before forcing his head between your legs. The moan you let out was guttural, almost feral, he lapped your folds like a starving man. He took long, drawn out licks up your slit before focusing on your clit. His lips kissed and sucked on your sensitive nub, sending waves of pleasure throughout you entire body. You couldn't pull away if you tried, he had wrapped his arms under your legs so you couldn't escape his assault on your cunt.
"Sh-shit, oh-oh my God Lucifer, FUCK," you moaned. You could feel a smile form on his face as this seemed to have made him pick up the pace. You screamed from his tongue darting in and out of you, feeling so close to snapping. Your thighs started to fold in on his head and you grabbed a fistful of his hair trying to regain some assemblance of control. âFuckfuckfuck, mmmmâŠgonna c-cum, aaggghh, gonnacumgonnacum!â Luciferâs tongue relentlessly circling your clit finally caused your body to spasm, your orgasm causing you to scream out in pleasure. Lucifer didnât stop though, he let you ride out your orgasm and hungrily devoured your release. Once you finally came down from your high, Lucifer lifted his face from between your legs and flashed you a toothy grin, seemingly quite proud of his work.
âYou alright, darling?,â he asked innocently, almost pretending like he wasnât the cause of what you had just experienced.
âY-yeah, IâmâŠIâm fine,â you breathed. âJustâŠJesus, that was intense! Give me a little warning before you go all in on me like that again!â
Lucifer laughed. âIâm sorry, love, I couldnât help myself.â
You rolled your eyes at him playfully. âOh, Iâm sure you couldnât. Now, letâs get these off you, hmm?,â you said tugging at his pants.
Lucifer stood up from the bed quickly. He undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. From the outlines of his briefs, you were surprised that they could contain him at all. Before he could pull at the hem, you jumped off the bed to stop him.
âAllow me,â you offered, getting on your knees in front of him. You reached up and grabbed onto his briefs, snaking them down his legs. His cock sprang free of its cage and hung in front of your face, its tip already leaking. Without thinking, your wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Lucifer let out a moan that youâve never heard before, filled with absolute lust and need. You took one of your hands and grabbed the base of his shaft, slowly stroking up and down while your mouth continued to work on his head. You ran small licks against the slit, tasting and lapping all of the precum that was forming. You loved the taste of him.
âLoveâŠf-fuck,â Lucifer panted, trying to fight through his moans, âif you donât s-stop now, I-Iâm gonna cum. I wannaâŠwanna feel you. P-PleaseâŠâ
Reluctantly, you pulled your mouth away from his cock with a *pop*, pouting slightly. Lucifer leaned down to grab your torso and tossed you onto the bed like you were made of paper mache. That angelic strength of his always caught you off guard. Lucifer crept between your legs, planting a tender kiss on your lips.
âI promise,â he whispered against your lips, ânext time you can finish what you started, but right now I need you. Need to feel you.â Lucifer brought his fingers to your needy cunt, feeling the slickness of your folds. Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation. He took his other hand and lined up the tip of his cock to your entrance. âAre you ready, my angel?,â he asked softly.
You grinned and nodded your head. With that, Lucifer closed the space between you once more with a fiery kiss as his cock entered you inch by inch. Your cries mixed with his as he finally entered you completely.
âYou feelâŠamazing, darling, fuckâŠâ Lucifer choked out. âAre you okay?â
âYes,â you murmured, âI-Iâm okay. You can move.â
âAnything for you,â he smiled. Lucifer slowly began to rock his hips into you, his cock filling you up completely with each thrust. You could feel every inch of him ruining your pussy, hitting just the right spot every time. It didnât take long for his pace to become erratic and uneven. He buried his cock deep inside you, both of your moans filling the room.
âLu-Lucifer, o-oh shit, Lucifer, I-Iâm so close,â you pleaded. âPlease donât stop, p-please donât.â
âCum for me, darling. Wanna feel you cum.â Lucifer groaned. He bit down on your should as he continued to pound into you, biting and sucking your tender skin. You were shaking, he was going too fast, you were coming undone.
âCuminmeâŠFUCKCUMINME,â you screamed and wrapped your legs around him as your orgasm flooded over you. You felt your walls pulsating around his cock, it was too much for Lucifer to handle. You heard him cry out and felt him twitch inside you, filling you up with his hot cum.
Coming down from your highs, you both laid there for a moment trying to catch your breath. You played with Luciferâs hair as he laid across your chest, completely worn out. A minute or two passed before Lucifer sat up and pulled himself out of you. He laid down next to you, staring at your flushed face.
âAre you alright?,â he asked. âDid I hurt you at all?â
âNo, you didnât hurt me,â you smiled. âThat feltâŠreally good. Thank you, for everything.â
Lucifer hummed and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your lips. âNo, thank you, love.â
You chuckled returning the kiss. âWouldâŠyou mind if I held you, Luci?â
Luciferâs eyes widened, but he smiled wide. âOf course not, Iâd love nothing more.â
Lucifer rolled on his side, giving you the chance to push your body against his back and wrap your arms around him. You both didnât move until the morning.
~~~~
Hope you enjoyed my second attempt at NSFW content lmaooooo
AND YEAH I MADE HIM THE LITTLE SPOON, ITâS WHAT HE WOULD WANT
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel smut#lucifer morningstar#lucifer smut#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#writing prompt#my writing#this was meant to be a cute short thing but i can never stop myself lmao#my signature is just posting goofy faces of Lucifer to remind everyone this is who weâre thirsting over
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Strange Love
i am so fucking obsessed with this man it ain't even FUNNY. oh btw here's some filth
Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader đ©ž
Rating: 18+ (i need jesus)
Wordcount: 4.5k
Warnings: smut, foreplay, mentions of PTSD, bloodplay, PnV sex, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, logan's teeth, choking, knifeplay, slight voyeurism if you squint seriously this is so dirty i NEED jesus
Song: Strange Love by Halsey
It wasnât the tossing and turning that woke you. It wasnât the occasional movement of his hands, the pushing into your side, the sheets being tugged off your body. You had grown accustomed to the flinches and twitches. Those things were typical when sharing a bed with someone.Â
It was his breathing. Short, quick, ragged. Like a band of iron was squeezing his chest and restricting his lungs.
Your eyes snapped open and flicked to Logan. He was covered in sweat, beads dripping down his forehead plastered in drenched hair. His teeth were bared, grinding. Sharp canines digging into his bottom lip and splitting the skin before the wounds would seal themselves. Fists clenched in the damp sheets, claws just barely poking out of between his knuckles, fingers squeezing the cotton between them.
Right, a nightmare. He was having a nightmare.
These were a nightly occurrence for him. Loganâs past would dredge itself up in his sleep and torture him for hour upon sleepless hour. Raking his mind through the coals only for him to wake up and not remember a thing.Â
It was risky to wake him like this. Once, Marie had tried to get him to wake up only for Loganâs adamantium claws to end up pierced in her stomach. She was fine, having briefly absorbed Loganâs healing ability and allowed herself to live.
That wasnât a risk you could take. You had a minor amount of healing your body was capable of. Smaller cuts and bruises were your specialty. You could manipulate the rate at which blood flowed and carried the necessary chemicals in order to seal wounds and reverse bruising. Foot-long claws stabbed into your abdomen werenât something you could easily fix.
You cleared your throat, shifting to the side of the bed opposite him, and said, âLogan?â
No response. He continued to breathe heavily, eyes darting back and forth beneath his furrowed brow. You sat up, determined to end this round of nightly torment.Â
âLogan? Hun, wake up,â you said, louder than the previous attempt. A string of incoherent mumbles escaped between his clenched teeth. You sighed and climbed out of bed. Turning to face him and crossing your arms, you braced yourself and yelled, âLogan!â
His hazel eyes flew open as he jolted up, claws shooting out and chest heaving. Silver light glinted off the six razor sharp claws jutting out of his fists. The sheets bunched around his bare waist, his pillow falling off the bed and onto the floor.
âLogan?â you asked, as quiet and calming as possible. Loganâs gaze shifted to you from darting wildly around the room. As soon as his eyes met yours, the claws retreated back beneath his flushed and clammy skin.
He swallowed with difficulty as his mind registered who you were. You could practically see the gears turning beneath his soaked, dark hair.
âLogan? Itâs me,â you said. Logan squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his eyelids.
âShit, Iâm sorry, doll. Did I wake you?â he grunted. He leaned back on one arm as he smoothed his hair away from his face. It was hard to prevent your gaze from wandering. A toned, tanned chest peppered in dark chest hair melting into defined abs with a trail of dark hair leading beneath the sheets. It took a lot of willpower to look back at Loganâs face.
âEh, Iâm used to it,â you replied, an easy smile falling across your lips. You kneeled back on the bed and ran a comforting hand along his shoulder. His gaze fell to your hand then met your eyes again.Â
âItâs not the best thing to get used to,â he said. You could feel the muscles in his shoulder tensing under your palm. A frown stretched across his face, âI shouldnât be wakinâ you every night.â
âItâs a sacrifice Iâm willing to make,â you said softly. You lifted your free hand and smoothed out the wrinkles created by his furrowed eyebrows. Logan smacked your hand away as you laughed.
âSeriously. I could hurt you,â he insisted. To emphasize his point, a single claw extended from his right hand, opposite of the side closest to you. He lifted the metal beside his face and said, âWhen I sleep, I ainât in control of these things. I⊠I canât lose you.â
You raised your hand, running your fingertips across Loganâs arm, before taking his fist in yours. He allowed the action, keeping the claw extended. You moved his hand closer to your face.
âWhatâre you doinâ?â he asked, tugging his hand out of yours. The silver claw retracted back between his knuckles. You sighed while climbing into his lap, straddling his hips with your thighs. You grabbed the same hand again.
âDo you trust me?â you asked. Loganâs glare searched for some kind of trick or fear hiding behind your amused expression.
âOf course I do,â he replied, albeit a little apprehensive. You placed a chaste kiss to his middle-finger knuckle.
âThen extend your claw, handsome,â you breathed into his skin.
Loganâs shoulders shuddered, his eyes falling closed as a strained breath floated from his lips. The hand you had stroking along his neck shifted to bury its fingers in his hair. His back arched, his bare chest meeting your sleep shirt.
âVampire-â
âExtend your claw. Iâll prove that youâll never hurt me,â you whispered. Your lips trailed across his knuckles while your fingers tangled in the soft strands at the base of his neck. A quiet groan bounced around inside Loganâs chest.
Slowly, reluctantly, his middle adamantium claw slid out of his fist. Moonlight danced along the sharp edge and gave the claw an almost ethereal glow. You turned Loganâs hand, inspecting the claw at all angles, enjoying the reflections it projected on the walls.
âDo you trust me?â you said, repeating yourself. You needed absolute clarity before continuing. Logan nodded as another shudder worked its way over his chest. You ran your eyes over his expression. His eyes were closed, tense, his lips parted slightly. The hand you had in his hair rested on his jaw, fingers buried in his short beard, thumb tracing his bottom lip, âYes or no, Logan.â
âYes. Yes, doll, I do,â he replied.
With the affirmation you needed, you shifted your focus back to the threatening claw in front of you. You considered it for a moment. The length, the width, the sharp edge. Squaring your shoulders and steeling your nerves, you brought his hand closer to your face as you parted your lips.Â
You ran the blade along the center of your tongue. The bite of cold metal pierced your flesh and stung as it slid along the muscle. You felt blood pool in your mouth, leaking out of the corners of your lips and down your chin.
Loganâs eyes popped open when the scent of your blood filled his nose. He yanked his fist away as his claw disappeared. Both of his palms clung to the sides of your face. You kept your mouth open, smiling, cradling the pooling blood on your tongue.
âWhat the shit? The hellâs wrong with you, vampire?â Logan exclaimed. Your smile held steady as his expression grew frantic. You watched Loganâs face closely as you enacted your plan.Â
Your blood began to float out of your mouth in small beads, tiny planets chasing each other, flying from your tongue and into the air around you, forming a ring circling your head. Once youâd cleared most of the blood, you focused on closing the wound. You felt the flesh knit itself back together inch by inch, wound stitching itself closed. When the last bit of leaking blood had exited your mouth, your tongue fully healed, you closed your smile and let the droplets orbit your head.
âYou wonât hurt me, Logan. No more than others have in the past,â you said. Loganâs expression remained unchanged, still eyeing you like you were fucking insane, hands clutched to both sides of your face. You stuck your tongue out again. âSee? No harm done.â
âYou⊠You can heal?â he asked. His thumb glided across your face to run along your bottom lip. You let your mouth fall open so he could see the absence of blood. He scoffed, âWhy didnât you tell me?â
âItâs not nearly as strong as yours. I can heal surface level stuff on anyone, not just me. Blood manipulation and all,â you explained. A fond smile remained settled across your face. You willed the blood floating around you to soar through the air in a stream, like crimson ribbons braiding and weaving into each other, before directing it into an empty glass on the nightstand.
Logan looked like you had told him the wildest theory about the moon landing imaginable. Eyebrows raised to his widowâs peak, nose scrunched, lips parted, eyes wide. It would have been amusing, laughable even, if it wasnât such a tense moment.
Without warning his mouth was on yours, fingers tangled in your hair, arms shoving your chest against his. His hips rocked up against yours and you felt just how hard this conversation had made him. You gasped into his mouth when he tugged at the base of your neck.
âAll this time,â he murmured. One of his hands left your hair and tugged up the hem of your t-shirt. His teeth trailed from your lips, to your jaw, to the soft skin at the crook of your neck, âAll this fuckinâ time. I was worried Iâd hurt you. That Iâd wake up and skewer you like I did Rogue.â
A choked moan escaped your lips when his hand squeezed at your breast. Rough and calloused and almost mean. Loganâs sharp canines nicked the skin above the artery that ran beneath your ear. You whined as blood leaked from the new wound.
âBut you? Youâre just full of fucking surprises, arenât you?â he said. He licked a broad swipe across the blood streaming down your throat. You ground down into his cock, the heat between your thighs seeking as much friction as possible. Both of you moaned as the deep liquid coated Loganâs mouth.Â
âWeâve got-shit, plenty of time to find them all,â you said through a breathless grin. The fingers in your hair tightened and tugged your head back, baring your throat as Logan lapped at your neck, staining it red.Â
You continued to grind into him while your hands gripped his forearms. Your nails dug into his skin, pinpricks of red sprouting around the crescent shapes. You brought a finger up to your mouth and licked along the tip of the nail. An explosion of copper coated your freshly healed tongue. A taste like none youâd ever had before, like a long-aged wine thatâd just been opened.Â
You needed to have more.
The knife you kept on your nightstand, the pommel a glass ball filled with your blood, swished through the air and landed in your open palm. Your other hand carded through Loganâs hair in an attempt to get his attention.
âCan I cut you?â you breathed. A feral grin spread across Loganâs face. His claw shinked back out of his fist and slashed down your shirt. The cotton separated like butter under a hot knife, your shirt sagging down your shoulders and falling away from your chest. A thin cut was left between your breasts. Like a red clay path between two rolling hills.Â
âAs long as I can cut you,â he replied, tongue tracing the new wound. Your head fell back as you arched into his mouth, doing your best to focus on closing the bite in your neck. Getting the skin to connect was growing more difficult as Logan coated his tongue in red and his half-lidded eyes met yours.
âFuck, okay, Iâll take that as a yes,â you said through gritted teeth. You shrugged off your destroyed t-shirt as you felt the cut on your neck close. Your left hand tugged at Loganâs hair, bringing his lips back to yours, bare chests colliding.Â
The air between you grew heated and humid. Teeth clashed, tongues darted into each otherâs mouths tasting of copper and sin, claws and nails and blade slicing through skin, fingers pulling on hair. Each wound that closed was replaced with a fresh one, tongue and lips following the lines of leaking blood. If you were normal both of you would be covered in more scars than one could count. But, because you were mutants, the skin sealed as if nothing had ever pierced it. Smooth and soft and absolutely covered in blood.
You felt the room spin as you and Logan flipped. He had one hand on your shoulder, pinning your torso to the bed, while the other wrapped around your throat. His broad, warm hand nearly encompassed your whole neck. The power he held over you stoked the flames in your abdomen to burn away at your sense and reason.
His mouth was back on yours, drinking from you like a dying man. Teeth nipped at your lips, your tongue, your chin. Sharp bites that left the taste of copper in their wake. The hand on your shoulder traveled down your overheated body. Passing over swathes of skin painted red and bruises long since dissipated. His fingertips brushed along the waistband of your shorts and a growl reverberated from his throat.
âYou have three seconds to get these off before theyâre ripped off,â Logan said, the words echoing in your mind like a prayer in an empty chapel.
You had never stripped yourself so fast in your life. Your fumbling hands slipped beneath your waistband, having to concentrate on both getting naked and Loganâs mouth on yours, and you slipped both your panties and your shorts off in one pull. You kicked them off the bed in record time.
âMm, that was five seconds. Iâll need to see to that later,â he said, kissing down your jaw between growled words. A shiver rolled across your spine at the way his voice thrummed against your neck. You felt the hand gripping your throat tighten, restricting your breathing, making you gasp. Your hands launched forward, seeking anything to grab in their path, landing on the forearm choking you. Logan nipped your collarbone as he said, âDonât be surprised to see those shorts in shreds tomorrow.â
He loosened his grip slightly, letting warm air back into your heaving lungs. You felt your pulse rushing in your ears.
âLogan, please,â you whimpered. The heat between your legs was unbearable. Wave after wave of arousal slammed into your trembling body and left you breathless. Your thighs were definitely soaked. You could feel wetness dripping off your skin and onto the sheets below you. Logan bit harder at your lowest rib, making you cry out, âPlease! I need you. Please, Logan.â
âIâve got you, hotstuff. Donât worry,â he purred. His canines dragged along your stomach, leaving fire in their wake, as he shifted lower on your body. The hand gripping your throat slid down your chest and pinned your hips in place, arm slung across your stomach like a lead pipe. His free hand massaged and groped at your shaking thighs. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, grinning, âSo polite, how can I refuse?â
The first pass of his tongue through your cunt made your back bow off the bed. Your hands scrabbled against the soaked sheets, nonsense and cries of ecstasy escaping through your kiss-swollen lips.
A low groan passed through his throat and vibrated against your clit. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the shocks of pure pleasure zipping through your bloodstream.
âFuck, sugar. All this just for me, huh?â he murmured. You werenât entirely sure if it was meant for you, but before you could decide he buried his face in your cunt. Tongue spearing inside you, nose bumping against your clit, large fingers holding you open. The air inside your lungs shot out of you like a bullet.Â
If your mind had any sense left, the sounds you and Logan were making wouldâve been obscene. The wet squelching of him licking at your folds, his rough grunts, your breathless moans and airy whimpers. It wouldâve made you embarrassed to ever show your face outside of this room again. But with Logan between your thighs and his arm braced across your abdomen, you could hardly care.Â
He shifted so his lips could wrap around your clit, sucking and running the blunt edge of his teeth over where youâre most sensitive. A startled yelp kicked out of your mouth. Your hands flew to his hair and tangled in the damp strands. You felt his fingers run along your entrance, gathering slick along the calloused pads.
âYou want me inside you, doll?â he asked huskily, sounding almost as wrecked as you felt. It took all your willpower to lift your eyelids and meet Loganâs eyes.Â
âPlease. Please, please, I need you Logan,â you slurred. Your grip on his hair tightened in an attempt to emphasize your point.Â
He latched back onto your clit, eyes still locked with yours, as two fingers pushed inside you. The digits entered you with almost no resistance, you were so soaked. A loud moan fell from your lips as the accompanying noise from your cunt made you feel fucking filthy.
âFuck, doll,â he grunted against your clit. He started pumping his fingers inside you, slow at first, letting you feel every ridge and knuckle glide in and out, making sure to brush against that spot inside you that made you see stars every time. Your thighs involuntarily clenched around his head. Your head flew back against the mattress beneath you, breath leaving your gaped mouth in quick bursts.
When his pace increased, you knew you wouldnât last much longer. That coil in your core was tightening at a speed that even Peter couldnât compete with. Your fingers scraped at Loganâs scalp, breathing seeming to be a thing of the past.
âCome for me, vampire,â he said, slipping a third finger inside you. The claws attached to the arm across your waist extended, piercing into the mattress and securing you further on the bed. If Logan wasnât who he was, youâd be afraid of hurting him from how tight your thighs were squeezed around his head. But that chrome dome was nowhere near perturbed as he shoved you into your first orgasm of the night.
Sparks of white hot electricity short-circuited your brain and rendered you breathless. Your back seized up and arched off the bed, mouth flying open, breath halted inside frozen lungs. Pulsing, neverending, world-encompassing pleasure covered you like a thick, electrified blanket. Zaps of shityesgood sparked across your skin, burrowing deep into your flesh and filling your veins.
âThere ya go, thatâs a good girl,â Logan said. You barely registered him, the roaring in your ears was so loud. He continued to finger you through your orgasm, placing the occasional kiss on your hyper-sensitive skin, making you jolt.
It took several minutes for the aftershocks to stop, for the blanket to lift off your body. Logan slid his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips. Low groans brought you back to reality as he licked your slick off his fingers.
His claws retracted as he climbed back up your body, placing sloppy wet kisses as he went. You hummed when his lips found yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, tangy and salty and distinctly you. Mixed with Loganâs smoke and whiskey, you felt like you could breathe this taste and grow intoxicated. You whined as Logan pulled back.
âReady for more?â he asked. You nodded, biting your lip as a smile graced your features.
Logan grinned back as he hiked your legs up onto his hips and positioned himself by your entrance, cock hard and heavy in his hand. Your hands laced in his hair and yanked his mouth back to yours. The wet, hot tip of his cock glided through your folds, making both of you groan into each otherâs mouths.
The first push inside stretched you almost to the point of pain, but you were so wet and needy you hardly cared. Your breathing grew ragged, panting into Loganâs open mouth, as he slid inside you. Every vein along his cock dragged against your walls, making you whine and cant beneath him.Â
When he was buried to the hilt inside you, hips connected with your thighs, he braced one hand above you while the other held your leg on his hip. It seemed to take all of his willpower to open his eyes and look down at you.
âShit, you feel good. Doinâ alright?â he groaned. You nodded a frantic yes, gripping his hair tighter and touching his forehead to yours.
âLogan please fuck me, please, please,â you whispered. You were barely cognizant. Just a body made of an animalistic need. A pure, feral, unadulterated need that only Logan could satisfy.
Logan chuckled, âWhen you ask like that, doll, how could I say no?â
The slow drag out of you made you grieve the loss of feeling completely full. Your nails dug into Loganâs scalp as whiny moans passed through your clenched teeth. He whispered reassurance into your skin as he pushed back inside, a smooth glide all the way in. He tried to set a slow pace, tried to give you time to adjust. But the pleas spilling from your lips and the grip of your thighs around his hips gave him the last shove he needed.
Quick, wet slaps bounced around the room as he rammed into you, over and over and over again. Pounding into you so hard you swore you could feel him in your throat and that if you werenât mutant, you would break. High moans met choked grunts in the air between you. The bedâs wooden headboard slammed into the wall behind you in pace with Loganâs thrusts.Â
And just like that his teeth were on you again. Biting and scraping and marking, drawing blood just for it to disappear under his tongue. Your shoulders, your collarbone, your breasts, your neck. None were left unmarked. And they remained ravaged, your mind too fractured by his relentless fucking to focus on healing yourself.Â
âFuck, vampire,â he moaned against your skin. His eyes were glassy, distant. Like his entire mind was devoted to filling you to the brim over and over again. The hand braced above your head grabbed the back of your neck, lifting your head so his lips could crash into yours. You were a mess of teeth and tongues and blood. Mindless, breathless moans swallowed between you.
You could feel that coil again. It tightened tauntingly at each thrust, each pound into you that drove you further into insanity. Flames of pure need licked and burned along your skin, only satisfied when Logan was filling you to the brim. Jesus, if you couldnât feel every thrust rattle your teeth and send you further into oblivion.
Logan adjusted above you, nearly folding you in half as both his hands landed next to you on the bed. Like this, every thrust hit that spot inside you. Splitting you open to leave nothing but a moaning mess behind.Â
He groaned above you, teeth gritted, and his claws shot out of his fists. The sound of fabric tearing filled your roaring ears. Deep gauges left in the mattress on either side of your head. Threatening, terrifying even. But to your fuck-drunk mind it only turned you on more. The unquenchable furnace burning in your core flamed into a blazing inferno. Your fingers scraped along his skin, searching mindlessly for something to ground you.
Another groan from Logan, reverberating from deep in his chest, as his forehead touched yours again. A spot of gentleness in the undeniably brutal way he was fucking you.
âIâm-Fuck!-Iâm getting real close, doll,â he grunted, his pace never slowing or lessening in its ferocity. He unburied his hand from the bed, retracting his claws, and lowered it between your bodies to rub circles into your swollen clit.
âAh! Fuck, Logan!â you yelped. You could feel yourself hurtling toward your inescapable second orgasm. Your eyes, unfocused as they were, tried to zero in on Logan above you. You felt like you were caught beneath a launching rocket, being blasted by the flames from the metal beast above you.
One, two, three more thrusts and then you were gone. Ecstasy poured into your veins like ink in water, drowning all you were, all you knew, all you felt. Eyes clouding over with swirling spots of black and white, the inferno in your core overtaking you like a forest fire. All you were was burned away, flames inhaling your body and mind, until all that was left was a mewling, breathless, writhing person that didnât feel like yourself.Â
Logan wasnât too far behind you. The relentless pounding inside you grew ragged, sloppy, his fingers tangling in your hair to let him breathe the same air as you. A sharp groan echoed from his chest as his thrusts stilled, spilling inside you. Hands gripped at the soft flesh on your hips, pinning you against him, prolonging his orgasm.
You felt weightless, like you were floating on the destroyed bed below you and the only thing keeping you grounded was Logan on top of you. Lazy, trembling fingers traced the veins on his forearms, still clutched to your sides. Your hazy vision focused on his face. Blissed out, eyes closed, chest heaving. You felt a lopsided grin stretch across your swollen lips.
âTold you, ya wonât hurt me,â you rasped. You must have screamed at some point, because your throat was scratchy and sore. Not that you minded.
Logan let out a breathless chuckle above you. His fingers massaged soothing circles into your hips as his eyes opened, gaze landing on your post-orgasmic smirk.
He cleared his throat then said, âYou sure? I got pretty rough.â
Your eyes fell closed as you used the remaining fragments of your mind to close the wounds across your neck and chest, willing the skin to seal and the bruises to flush away. Once you were satisfied you opened your eyes again.
âNothing I canât handle,â you said, grinning. Logan shook his head, matching your grin, as he slid out of you. An involuntary whine slipped up your throat at the loss of him inside you. The loss was quickly remedied by him laying down beside you, wrapping you in his arms and tucking you against his chest. You settled in, nestling your cheek against his damp skin, while he hummed above you.
âI know you can, but Iâm not so sure about the sheets.â
Embarrassment flooded your cheeks as you observed the carnage around you. The once (somewhat) pristine, light blue sheets were absolutely covered in blood, loose threads, and other results of what the two of you had just done. Not to mention the holes in the mattress that could no way in hell be fixed.
You let out a sigh as your hand covered your eyes, face flushed. Logan smirked and kissed the top of your head.
âWeâll get âem replaced, doll. Donât worry about it,â he said, amusement at your situation laced in every word.
However, the two of you froze in response to the words that filled your heads, the disappointment palpable and tone icy.
âItâll come out of your wallets.â
i'd like to thank @madschiavelique and @gracethyomen for encouraging my obsession with logan. much love to them both and the rest of the murdock tuna team đ
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#wolverine#logan howlett#hugh jackman#wolverine fanfic#logan howlett fanfic#hugh jackman fanfic#xmen#xmen fanfic#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut#this is FILTH please don't judge me#that honda odyssey scene rewrote my brain chemistry#and i am a weak weak leggy
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@lulz-nematode-belmont ask and you shall receive đ«¶đ» and i'm sorry this took soooo long.
Since you were little you've always feared monsters and the dark. Especially the monster under your bed. But as you grew up, you managed to convince yourself that it was just a myth. But now, as you've moved to your new house, over the course of past few months, you feel that the monster under the bed thing wasn't just a myth to scare children.
You wake up in the morning, not even remembering when you went to bed, with bruises on your thighs and your pussy sore. You tried setting up a camera, but "somehow" the camera didn't record anything except darkness.
This time around, you're prepared to stay awake the entire night, so you get in your bed and close your eyes. After almost an hour, you feel your blanket being pulled down from over you. You remain still, and you feel giant hands on your thighs spreading your legs apart.
You feel a presence hover over you, and suddenly you switch on the lights, just to see a tall dark figure, he looks almost like a human, except he has a skin that matches the darkness of the night, his hair as white as snow. His face is pleasing to look at. Even the razor sharp teeth, you feel safe with him around, he starts to retreat wide eyed, but your voice stops himâ "You've been visiting me?"
"Yeah" he replies kind of guilty. "I'm not....mad, just surprised" you laugh. "What have you been doing in your visits?" you add on. "I've been fucking you with my tongue. Couldn't resist" he speaks softly.
You blush at his straightforwardness about what he had been doing. Honestly you didn't mind, just hoped that you could've stayed awake while he was busy eating you out. "You're aroused?"he grunts. Your eyes widen, how could he sense that? You, yourself couldn't. "Am I?" you ask to no one in particular.
"Yeah, more so than the other days." he replies anyways. "Now what?" you question to him. "I can leave if you want me to, but if you want me to stay, just know you'll never get rid of me. You will be mine and I will be yours." he replies, his voice turning dark at the end.
You pause for a bit and then just say one word, "Stay." And all hell breaks loose, you're on your back, legs spread, shorts ripped apart and him face to face with your cunt. You try to close your legs out of shyness but he holds them apart, his voice rough as he speaks "Don't try hiding yourself from me, sunshine. You're all mine."
He then wordlessly licks up your pussy. His teeth carefully toy with your clit. He eats you out with so much vigor, it makes your back arch off the bed, and he pins you down by your hips to the bed. He gets so messy, it's like he's eating you out for his own pleasure rather than yours. He continues his ministrations on your poor cunt and you cum around his tongue. He keeps on going until you come 3-4 times more.
"I think that's enough for you tonight. yeah?" He speaks. You're too tired to say anything and wordlessly pull him closer to you to cuddle him.
#monster boyfriend#monster fucker#monster smut#monster x human#tw teratophilia#teratophillia#terato#monster under the bed#monster#monster bf#monster romance#monster x reader#monster x you#tw monsterfucking#monsterfucking nsft#monster nsft
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The Whispers at Howlett Manor
Your parents are forcing you to marry Lord Howlett in hopes of securing the future of Langley House. However, there is more at play than you realize.
lord logan howlett x fem!reader - no use of y/n, light reader description, reader has a last name - langley for story purposes, angst, forced marriage, regency era stuff, brooding logan, reader is stubborn, reader has sisters and a family, some fluff towards the end, sexual tension, light enemies to lovers, logan is a softie
a/n: Okay, so i love pride and prejudice/bridgerton (anything like that) so it was only a matter of time before i wrote something like that for logan. Anyway, this was going to be inspired by bridgerton but ended up being more inspired by loganâs comic book childhood mixed with just regency typical era stuff.Â
Also, i literally didnât think this would be this long (i will admit the ending isnât the best, i got tired of writing/kinda got writers block so sorry). also sorry it took so long to post but it's long af.
word count: 28k
âMust you always be so difficult?â Lady Langleyâs voice carried across the room like the crack of a whip, sharp enough to pierce through the layers of the emerald chiffon being draped over your shoulders. The maid fumbled with the fabric, her hands trembling as she tried to secure the delicate buttons along your back.
You drew a long breath, pressing your lips together to steady your voice. âMama, I have done everything you asked,â you said, your tone strained but calm. You waved the maid away, your impatience slipping out in the motion.
âEverything?â your mother scoffed, her fingers coming up to massage her temple in a familiar gesture of frustration. âDearest, you have done the opposite of everything. That dreadful scene at dinner the other nightâdo you even realize how close you came to ruining us? Lord Howlett was barely polite by the end of it.â She turned, her skirts sweeping across the polished floor as she began to pace, the rhythmic click of her heels only adding to the mounting tension.
You spun away from the mirror, the sight of your own reflectionâeyes dark with resentment, cheeks flushed with the heat of suppressed angerâwas too much to bear.Â
âWhy must it all fall to me?â you burst out, meeting her gaze with a defiance that startled even you. âWhy must I be the one to endure it all, to wear the fine dresses and force a smile, as though I am some precious porcelain doll to be displayed? Did you and Father not bring us to the brink with your own decisions?â
Lady Langleyâs eyes widened at your boldness, though whether with indignation or a glimmer of guilt, you couldnât say. âWe did what we had to do for this family,â she replied, her voice low and tremulous. âAnd now, you must do your part. Marrying Lord Howlett will restore everything. His wealth is our salvationâour only chance to keep Langley House from crumbling.â
You turned back toward the mirror, but not to admire your appearance. The gown was exquisiteâdeep green with gold stitching along the neckline, chosen for the way it complemented your hair and hinted at your motherâs hope that it might catch Lord Howlett's eye once more.Â
All you saw was a stranger trapped in silks, her future bound to a man she hardly knew. A man whose stern gaze and gruff manners at the dinner table had left her with a vague sense of unease.
A man who seemed old enough to be your father, though still handsomely rugged, with a strength in his bearing that spoke of battles fought far from the comforts of an English drawing-room. Lord James Logan Howlettâhis name alone seemed to carry a weight that threatened to crush you beneath it.
âI will not be sold off like cattle,â you said quietly, almost as if testing the words. The defiance wavered in your chest, but it was thereâsmall and growing. âYou cannot force me, Mama.â
Lady Langleyâs gaze softened, if only for a moment, and her hand reached out but stopped just short of your shoulder. âMy dear, there is no force. Only necessity,â she whispered. âThink of your sisters. Think of your fatherâs health. We cannot afford a scandal.âÂ
The room seemed to close in, the walls heavy with expectations that clung like dust to every surface. You felt the weight of it pressing down, smothering that flicker of defiance before it could truly catch fire. There would be no escape from the duty laid upon your shouldersânot without dragging the entire family down with you.
As the maid returned to finish securing the gown, your gaze drifted back to the mirror, catching a glimpse of your own reflection. You tilted your chin up and straightened your spine, forcing yourself to appear composed. You would have to play the partâat least for tonight.
The question lingered in the back of your mind: Who would Lord Howlett be, once the doors closed and the pretense fell away? It scared you more than you cared to admit.Â
Without another word, your mother swept out of the room, leaving behind only the faintest rustle of silk in her wake. You exhaled, shoulders drooping as the maid finished pinning the last curl into place. Downstairs, the murmur of your sisters' voices drifted up, accompanied by the distant sound of your fatherâs halting footsteps.
As you descended the grand staircase, your sisters gathered at the foot, their eyes bright with excitement and curiosity. âOh, look at you!â one exclaimed, reaching out to brush the delicate fabric of your gown. âSuch a beautiful color,â another said, her fingers tracing the lace trim with envy.
Your father stood at the end of the stairwell, leaning heavily on his cane. His smile was gentle but tinged with a quiet weariness. âYou look lovely, my dear,â he said, extending a hand toward you. His voice had lost some of its usual strength, but there was still warmth in his gaze as he squeezed your fingers. âI am sure you will have a splendid time at the play.â
You returned his smile, though it felt stiff, as though someone had drawn it onto your face with a trembling hand. âThank you, Papa,â you replied softly. âThough Iââ
Your motherâs sharp voice cut across the hallway, shattering the moment. âYou shall behave tonight,â she declared, appearing around the corner with a frown etched so deeply into her face that you wondered if it had been permanently carved there. âDo you understand?â
You sighed, dropping your father's hand as your sisters scattered like birds startled by a hawk. âYes, Mama. I understand.â
âI am serious, girl.â Lady Langley stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as though she could will obedience into you through sheer force of will. âThe Dowager Lady Elizabeth Howlett is to be your chaperone, and I have heard she is not a woman inclined to kindness. This is your last chance to make a favorable impression on Lord Howlett.â
Before you could reply, your father interjected, his tone soothing, yet strained. âMy love, she will be fine. Thereâs no need to fret.â He reached for his cane again, wobbling slightly, and one of your sisters, who had been listening around the corner, darted forward to steady him.
You took a step toward him to help, but a knock echoed from the front door, interrupting you. The butler promptly moved to answer it, revealing Lord James Howlett and his mother standing on the threshold.
Lord Howlettâs dark, brooding eyes swept over the entryway, landing on you with an unreadable expression. His face was set in its usual stern lines, the strong jaw rigid as though it had forgotten how to soften. Beside him, Dowager Lady Elizabeth Howlett stood with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her thin lips pressed into a line of disapproval as if the very air of Langley House was beneath her.
âGood evening, Miss Langley,â Lord Howlett said, inclining his head slightly. âI trust you are ready?â
âAs ready as Iâll ever be, my lord,â you replied with a polite curtsy, though your tone carried a hint of edge. âIt is, after all, only a play.â
The faintest glimmer of somethingâwas it irritation?âflickered in his eyes. âIndeed. Perhaps you might endeavor to watch this one instead of glancing longingly toward the exit.â
You arched a brow, a small, mirthless smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. âI assure you, my lord, I shall be entirely captivatedâprovided, of course, that the performance is not as stiff as some of the company I keep.â
The Dowagerâs eyes snapped to you, sharp as a hawkâs. âMind your tongue, girl,â she said in a low voice that dripped with condescension. âA lady ought not to jest so carelessly.â
âOh, but I am quite in earnest, Lady Elizabeth,â you replied, meeting the older womanâs gaze with a practiced sweetness. âI would not dare make light of such an important evening.â
Lord Howlettâs lips twitched, not quite forming a smile. âLet us hope, then, that your enthusiasm lasts until the final act,â he said, offering his arm. âShall we?â
You hesitated a moment before taking his arm, the rough fabric of his sleeve brushing against your skin as you settled beside him. His posture was rigid, as though every step was calculated to maintain the distance between you, and there was a tension in the air that crackled like static.
âTell me, my lord,â you said as you descended the steps together, âdo you always bring your mother along when courting?â
His gaze slid sideways to meet yours, a dark brow arching slightly. âPerhaps I thought you might benefit from a proper example of decorum,â he replied, his voice as dry as autumn leaves.
You tilted your head, your lips curving into a smile that didnât reach your eyes. âHow considerate of you,â you said. âThough I should warn youâIâve never been easily subdued. Even with a watchful eye upon me.â
âThen let us hope,â he said quietly, âthat you find something worth behaving for this evening.â
Together, you descended the steps with Lady Elizabeth two steps behind. You climbed into the carriage and the weight of the Dowagerâs gaze bore down on you like a cold hand gripping your shoulder. Lord Howlett settled opposite you, his expression veiled in shadow, and for a moment, you wondered if there was more beneath that brooding exteriorâsomething other than duty and disdain.
The thought was fleeting, and as the carriage lurched forward, you turned your attention to the dimly lit streets outside, wondering if the play would prove to be the most engaging performance of the evening, or if the true drama lay in the careful dance of words between you and the man who might soon be your husband.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The play had begun with a flurry of activity on the stage, enough to momentarily capture your interest. But as the actorsâ exaggerated gestures dragged on and the dialogue grew stale, your thoughts drifted elsewhere. By the halfway point, you were tapping your finger impatiently against the gilded armrest of your seat, biting back a yawn.
Lord Howlett sat beside you, his posture rigid, gaze fixed on the performers as if he were determined to will some life into the lackluster production. Behind you, two rows up, his mother, the Dowager Lady Elizabeth Howlett, sat in conversation with Lady Drummond, her sharp whispers cutting through the quiet like a needle through cloth.
âMust you do that?â Lord Howlett murmured, his voice low and taut, though he didnât look your way.
You arched an eyebrow, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. âIf you mean by âthat,â not falling asleep in my seat, then yes, I must. This play is dreadful.â
His jaw tightened, the muscles working beneath the skin as though he was grinding down the words he truly wished to say. âIt is hardly the fault of the actors if your attention span is as short as your temper,â he muttered.
You bristled, half-turning toward him. âOr perhaps, my lord, it is because I find greater amusement in watching the dust settle on these velvet curtains than in enduring one more moment of this drivel.â
Without waiting for a reply, you stood and swept out of the aisle, the swish of your gown echoing in the hushed theater as you made your way down the dimly lit hallway. The air was cooler out here, and you took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of relief and defiance coursing through you. Surely, there must be something more engaging than sitting like a doll, pretending to be enthralled by dreadful theatrics.
âMiss Langley.â
The clipped voice was unmistakable, and you rolled your eyes before turning. Lord Howlett had followed you, pushing the theater door open with a firm hand, his expression shadowed and irritated as he stepped into the corridor. âYou cannot simply leave in the middle of a play,â he said, his tone laced with exasperation. âIt is beyond improper.â
You let out a dry laugh and crossed your arms. âI can do as I please, my lord. If I find myself losing the will to live through another act, I shall not sit there and suffer just to uphold some antiquated notion of propriety.â
He took a step closer, his brow furrowing as though you were some curious creature he was trying to decipher. âWhy must you always defy what is expected of a lady?â His voice dropped lower, edged with something like genuine bewilderment. âIt seems you take a particular delight in making a spectacle of yourself.â
âIt seems you take particular delight in brooding and casting judgment,â you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him. âIs that not a spectacle in its own right? Or is it simply the pastime of a man who finds fault in everything and amusement in nothing?â
For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something else in his gazeâamusement, perhaps, or even admiration. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the same stony look he always wore. âYou think this is a jest?â he said, his voice low and rough. âYou have no idea what is at stake.â
You scoffed, turning away from him and pacing a few steps down the corridor. âOh, I am well aware. My familyâs reputation, our fortuneâsuch as it isâdangles by a thread. You are meant to be our savior, are you not?â You whirled back to face him, your eyes flashing. âI am to marry you and secure my familyâs future, regardless of my feelings on the matter.â
He stepped closer still, his eyes hardening as he looked down at you. âYou do have a choice, Miss Langley,â he said, his voice almost a growl. âYou may refuse me, of course. You may tear up the marriage contract and walk away. But do not pretend you are unaware of what will follow if you do.â
You felt the sting of his words, the cold truth in them. âYou mean the ruin of my family, the loss of our home, our dignity?â you replied, bitterness curling in your voice. âYou think I do not know what is at stake? I know it better than anyone.â
âThen why do you resist so stubbornly?â His tone was quieter now, the anger ebbing into something else, perhaps even a touch of weariness. âDo you truly wish to see Langley House crumble? Your sisters scattered to find their fortunes, your fatherâs health worsening under the strain of financial ruin?â
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the bravado slipped. âOf course not,â you said softly, the fight draining from your voice. âBut that does not mean I wish to spend my life bound to a man who sees me as a dutyâa burden, even.â
His expression shifted something unspoken passing through his gaze. âI do not see you as a burden,â he said, though the words sounded as though they cost him something to admit. âBut I will not pretend this arrangement is anything other than what it is: a necessity.â He took a step back, his jaw tightening once more. âHowever, necessity does not mean cruelty. I would not make your life a misery, Miss Langley. I may not be the husband you would choose, but I would see to it that you do not suffer.â
You searched his face, looking for some hint of insincerity, but found none. âYou speak as though you would do me a favor,â you said, your voice quiet but edged with defiance. âBut I cannot help but wonder if you say this only because you, too, have no other choice.â
He inclined his head, a faint, humorless smile curling at the corner of his lips. âYou are selfish,â he said, his voice low and edged with disdain. âYou would let your family slip into ruin simply because you find me... unlikable? Is your pride worth so much, Miss Langley? Why canât you be an obedient lady and do what is required of you?â
âObedient?â You scoffed, the word scraping against your throat like gravel. âOh, I see. I am a dog to be trained, then? A creature to sit and stay at your command?â You stepped closer, defiance burning in your gaze as you met his eyes without flinching. âThat is where we differ, my lord. You would have a wife who falls meekly at your side, a pretty ornament to nod and smile on cue. But I would rather have a husband who doesnât haunt brothels while demanding loyalty in return.â
 His expression hardened, a flash of something dangerous igniting in his eyes. The silence between you was like a blade drawn taut, ready to cut. âYou do not know me, Miss Langley,â he said quietly, the words seething between clenched teeth. âYou presume to judge, but your knowledge is nothing but rumor and spite.â
âThen enlighten me, my lord,â you shot back, your voice rising despite yourself. âTell me why the other ladies of the ton avoid you like a blight. Explain why a man of your wealth and standing must settle for a bride who has no choice in the matter. It seems to me that you are as desperate as the family you claim to save.â
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might reach for youâwhether to silence your insolence or pull you closer, you could not say. But he kept his hands at his sides, though they were balled into fists. âWatch your tongue, Miss Langley,â he said in a voice so low it was nearly a growl. âYou speak of things you cannot understand.â
âThen perhaps you should make me understand,â you replied, refusing to back down. âBecause what I see before me is not a savior but a man grasping at the last thread of respectability. If you think marrying me will somehow restore your standing, then you are the one who is mistaken.â
He exhaled sharply, a bitter laugh escaping his throat. âYou truly believe you have the upper hand here, donât you?â His gaze flicked over you, as though appraising something less than worthy. âBut let me make this clear, Miss Langley. It is not just your familyâs name that hangs in the balanceâit is your sisters' futures and your fatherâs health. Or do you not care about that, either?â
The words stung, and for a moment, the fight drained from your voice. âOf course, I care,â you whispered, the anger giving way to something more vulnerable. âBut do not expect me to be grateful for a fate I did not choose, nor for a man who believes he can command my respect by demanding it.â
He took a step closer, and you felt the warmth of his breath as he spoke. âAnd do not expect me to offer comfort where there is no gratitude,â he said, his voice a rough murmur. âI do not need your approval, Miss Langley, only your cooperation. Your disdain matters little in the grand scheme of things.â
âThen you shall have my cooperation,â you said, your voice steady even as a knot tightened in your chest. âBut make no mistake, my lordâcooperation is all you will ever have. If you are hoping for an obedient wife to dote on you, you shall find yourself sorely disappointed.â
âObedience is not what I seek,â he replied, his gaze unwavering. âBut I will have a wife who understands duty. That, at least, I can count on from you.â
You turned your face away, refusing to let him see the flicker of uncertainty that stirred behind your anger. âThen you shall have what you wish, Lord Howlett,â you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. âBut do not mistake duty for affection. You may secure this marriage, but my heart is another matter entirely.â
For a moment, his expression softened like a cloud breaking to reveal the faintest glimmer of light behind it. Then it was gone, replaced by that same stern resolve. âAffection,â he repeated, as though the word itself were a foreign concept. âI think we both know that sentiment has little place in arrangements such as these.â
With that, he turned and strode back toward the theater, leaving you standing in the dim corridor, your breath coming a little too fast, your pulse thrumming with a mix of fury and something unsettling that you could not quite name. The door closed behind him, muffling the distant applause from the stage and the dull murmur of voices, leaving you to wonder whether this confrontation had left either of you any closer to understanding the otherâor if it had merely drawn a deeper line in the sand.
The carriage had barely rolled to a stop outside Langley House when you flung open the door and stepped out, your movements quick and agitated, as if you could outrun the suffocating weight of the evening. The cool night air bit at your cheeks, but it did nothing to soothe the roiling in your chest. All you wanted was the solace of solitude, to shed the layers of pretense like a stifling gown.
Your steps had scarcely touched the gravel drive before you heard the heavy thud of boots behind you.
"Miss Langley." Lord Howlettâs voice cut through the quiet, steady, and unyielding as ever. His mother, the Dowager Lady Elizabeth, called after him with an impatient huff, but he paid her no mind.
You quickened your pace, the glow from the houseâs lanterns casting long shadows along the steps ahead. "I wish to be alone, Lord Howlett," you said sharply, your voice fraying at the edges. The marble step was slick with evening dew, and your foot slipped, your balance faltering.
In an instant, his hand was at your elbow, steadying you before you could tumble forward. The grip was firm, strong enough to remind you of his presence but not rough. Still, the warmth of his touch burned like an affront, and you wrenched your arm free, glaring up at him. "Do not touch me," you hissed, taking a step back.
His jaw tightened, but he did not retreat. "We need to speak about the marriage," he said, his tone low and even, though there was a trace of something gentler beneath itâa reluctant concern, perhaps, that seemed to soften the hard line of his brow.
"There is nothing to discuss," you scoffed, folding your arms tightly across your chest as if to barricade yourself against him. "The terms are clearâI have no choice in the matter, so let me have at least this one freedom." You gestured toward the door behind you, your voice trembling with anger. "Allow me to go inside and be alone before I am forever bound to you."
For a moment, he said nothing, merely studied you in the dim light, his gaze searching yours as if he could see the truth buried beneath your defiance. He exhaled a soft, reluctant sound. "You think I wish to force this upon you?" he asked quietly. "You think I delight in binding myself to a woman who loathes the very sight of me?"
"Then why follow me out here?" you retorted, your voice rising despite yourself. "If you do not wish to force my hand, then why not leave me be?"
"Because," he said, his voice firming again, "if there is even the slightest chance that we could find some common groundâsome understandingâthen we owe it to ourselves to try." He took a cautious step closer, his expression gentling just a fraction. "I do not want a wife who feels trapped," he murmured, as though the admission cost him something. "But I cannot simply walk away from this marriage without condemning your family to ruin. Nor can you."
You hesitated, caught off guard by the faint softness in his tone. It was the first time he had spoken of the marriage as something other than a grim obligation, the first time you glimpsed a hint of vulnerability in himâlike a crack in a fortress wall, small but real. "And you truly believe that 'understanding' will change anything?" you asked, skepticism thick in your voice.
"I believe it could make the difference between a life of misery and a life of endurance," he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. "Or perhaps even... something more." The words were spoken so quietly you almost doubted youâd heard them right, but there was a sincerity in his gaze that made your pulse quicken in an unfamiliar way.
You swallowed, the chill of the night air seeping into your skin as the anger ebbed, replaced by a cautious unease. "And what would you have me do, my lord?" you said, your tone softer now, though no less guarded. "Pretend to be content? To play the obedient wife you seem to think I should be?"
"No," he answered, his voice rough with honesty. "I would not ask you to pretend. I would ask you to give us a chance to learn who we truly are, beyond what is expected of us." He hesitated, then added, almost hesitantly, "You may find that I am not the monster you imagine me to be."
A bitter laugh escaped you despite yourself, and you shook your head. "You ask much of me, Lord Howlett," you said, taking a step back toward the door, your hand finding the cold brass of the doorknob. "But I shall consider your... proposal, if only because it seems I have little choice in the matter."
He inclined his head, accepting your words with a solemnity that surprised you. "That is all I ask," he said quietly. "For now."
Without another word, you turned and slipped inside the house, the door closing behind you with a soft click. As you leaned back against the cool wood, you pressed a hand to your chest, where your heart still raced with the remnants of anger and something unsettling.Â
It was a small concession, what he had asked forâa chance. Whether it would lead to any true understanding between you was as uncertain as the flickering candlelight in the dim entryway.
ââââàšà§ââââ
For the past few days, you had managed, almost miraculously, to forget the looming specter of your engagement to Lord Howlett. The bustle of your sistersâ chatter and the endless duties of tending to your fatherâs needs kept your thoughts mercifully occupied. It wasnât until afternoon tea, in the quiet stillness of the drawing room, that reality began to creep back in.
"Dearest, you should be getting ready," your mother said, her tone as clipped as the neat pour of tea into her porcelain cup. She glanced at you over the rim, the same expectant look in her eyes that always made your stomach twist.
"Getting ready?" you echoed, glancing up from the delicate pastry you had just bitten into. "Whatever for?"
She set the teapot down with a soft clink. "Lord Howlett is calling upon you this afternoon. I told you several times alreadyâhe said it was urgent."
You paused, your brows knitting together in confusion. "I donât recallâ"
"Of course, you donât," she cut in, already turning her attention back to the list she kept by her saucer. "But mark my words, heâs coming to make his proposal official. It is time you finally accepted your future, dear. There are matters to be arranged, details to prepare for the wedding. You should be grateful heâs being so⊠proper."
The word grateful sat uneasily on your tongue, and you swallowed it down along with your annoyance. Pushing back your chair, you rose hastily, a flutter of unease stirring in your chest as you rushed toward your room. The idea of marrying Lord Howlett had begun to seem less dauntingâhe had not been altogether unkind, and there was a certain steadiness about him that could be called reassuring. The thought of him proposing, of that moment when he would slide a ring onto your finger and the arrangement would become irrevocably real, sent a jolt of panic through you.
When you entered your chambers, you found your maid already laying out a gown of ivory muslinâa gesture of assumption that made your cheeks burn with resentment. Still, you let her help you into the dress, her fingers quick as they tied the ribbons and smoothed the fabric. You wore your hair loose, allowing it to tumble down your back in soft waves; an act of small rebellion, for you knew your mother would have preferred it neatly pinned.
By the time you descended the stairs, Lord Howlett was already waiting in the drawing room, standing near the window where the afternoon light softened the harsher lines of his features. He turned as you entered, his gaze sweeping over you with a measured look that betrayed nothing.
"Miss Langley," he greeted, inclining his head with that familiar formality. "Thank you for receiving me on such short notice."
You curtsied, your movements practiced and restrained. "I was told you had something urgent to discuss, my lord. I must confess, I am curious as to what could not wait."
His lips twitched, not quite a smile but something close. "Then I shall not keep you in suspense." He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small, velvet box, opening it with a quiet snap. Inside, nestled against the dark lining, was a ringâa delicate band of gold set with a single emerald, flanked by two smaller diamonds. The green stone gleamed in the light, as deep and rich as the forests of Howlett Manor.
You were surprised by the quick stab of pleasure that rose in your chest. "The ring⊠it is beautiful," you admitted before you could think better of it. You caught his eye and saw something flicker there, a brief, almost imperceptible softening.
"I hoped you would like it," he said quietly, and for a moment, the tension that always seemed to hang between you loosened ever so slightly. "The emerald reminded me ofâ" He stopped, glancing away as though he had already said too much. "Well, I thought it would suit you."
A silence stretched between you, more thoughtful than awkward, before he cleared his throat and closed the box, slipping it back into his pocket. "There is also another matter," he said, his tone returning to its usual steadiness. "My mother is hosting a ball in our honor tomorrow evening. She insists it will be a grand affair, and Iâ" He hesitated, as though weighing his next words. "I would be honored if you would accompany me, Miss Langley."
"A ball?" you repeated, and though you meant for your tone to sound disinterested, you couldnât quite keep the hint of dread from creeping in. "So soon? I would have thought we might⊠wait, given the circumstances."
"Lady Elizabeth is not a woman inclined to wait," he replied, a wry twist in his voice that was not without sympathy. "She wishes to make our engagement known to society without delay. It will be⊠expected, of course, that we present a united front."
"Naturally," you said, though the word felt bitter on your tongue. You looked away, toward the gilded clock ticking away on the mantel. "And what, precisely, would that united front entail, my lord? Do you expect me to pretend to be a willing bride, eager to embrace my future with you?"
He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was low, almost kind. "I expect only what you can give, Miss Langley. If all you can manage is civility, then that will suffice."
You glanced at him, taken aback by the gentleness in his tone. "You surprise me, Lord Howlett," you said, your voice softer than before. "I did not think you capable of such⊠understanding."
"I am not as devoid of feeling as you seem to believe," he replied, a faint, rueful smile tugging at his lips. "But I would not have you think I am resigned to a marriage without hope of something more than mere obligation." His gaze met yours, steady and unyielding. "If there is any chance at all that we might find some semblance of happiness, I would take it."
The words lingered in the air, as fragile and uncertain as a new leaf on a winter branch. You hesitated, and a small part of you were reluctant to dismiss him entirely. "Very well, my lord," you said at last. "I shall attend this ball, and we shall play our parts for society. But do not mistake my agreement for acceptance."
"I would not dare," he murmured, and there was the faintest hint of relief in his voice. He pulled the velvet box from his pocket handing it to you before taking his leave.Â
You found yourself opening the box, glancing at the ring once more, that emerald stone glinting like a tiny spark of hope. It was a beautiful ring, you thought, though whether it would come to signify a promise or a prison remained yet to be seen.
ââââàšà§ââââ
"My, my. Howlett Manor is even more magnificent than I imagined," Lady Langley breathed, her voice hushed with awe as the two of you stepped into the grand entryway.Â
The butler bowed with a practiced grace, and the quiet echo of your footsteps on the marble floor seemed to emphasize the vastness of the space. "This is to be your home, dear," she added, her gaze drifting upward to the vaulted ceiling, where intricate plasterwork and painted frescoes caught the morning light.
You huffed softly, resisting the tug at your heart. The manorâno, the estate, as it ought to be calledâwas indeed more splendid than you cared to admit, though you had steeled yourself not to show it. Even from the approach, its beauty had been undeniable: the sprawling gardens with their perfectly trimmed hedges, the marble fountain in the circular drive, its water sparkling like diamonds, and the lush oak trees lining the path like silent sentinels. Yet the sight of the interior, with its polished wood paneling and gilt-framed paintings, stirred something inside you that you could not quite nameâa feeling somewhere between wonder and resentment.
"It is... pleasant," you said at last, the word falling flat even to your ears. Your tone was deliberately blasĂ©, a feeble attempt to veil the fact that the grandeur of Howlett Manor made Langley House seem almost shabby by comparison. You watched your mother drift toward a paintingâa portrait of some long-dead Howlett ancestor, his expression as stern as the current lord's.
"Pleasant?" She shot you a disapproving look over her shoulder, one brow arching in that way that always made you feel like a child again. "Do not be coy, dearest. This estate could rival a palace, and you know it." Her voice took on a lilting quality as she turned back to admire the ornate chandelier suspended above you, its crystals glittering like a thousand tiny stars. "It will be quite the step up from Langley House."
You bit the inside of your cheek, turning away from her. "If only that were the most important consideration in a marriage," you murmured, more to yourself than to her. As if marble floors and gold leaf could ease the unease that settled in your chest. The manor may be exquisite, but it was still a cage, albeit a gilded one, with walls that seemed to close in the moment you stepped inside.
Just then, a door on the far side of the hall opened, and Lord Howlett emerged, his dark gaze sweeping over you and your mother with a hint of appraisal. His expression softenedâthough only slightlyâas his eyes settled on you. "Miss Langley, Lady Langley. I trust the journey was not too taxing?" His voice was low and measured, as though politeness was a formality he had long since mastered but did not particularly enjoy.
"It was quite manageable, thank you," your mother replied, flashing him a practiced smile. "And I must say, Lord Howlett, your home is truly breathtaking. I believe my daughter finds it to her liking as well, though she is being rather modest about it."
You bristled at the suggestion and shot Lord Howlett a look that was equal parts defiance and wariness. "It is certainly... impressive," you said, your tone more guarded than before. "Though I would imagine it feels rather empty at times, with all this space."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "It is certainly quieter than the bustling atmosphere at Langley House, I imagine," he said, with a slight lift of his brow. "But I assure you, it is far from lonely."
His words hung in the air, and you wondered if there was an unspoken meaning hidden in them, something deeper than mere pleasantries. For a moment, you allowed your gaze to wander over the grand staircase that swept upward, the dark wood banisters gleaming under the chandelier's light, and the tall windows that overlooked the grounds, where sunlight poured in, bright and unforgiving. It was a beautiful place, undeniably, but it wasnât yours.
"Well, I suppose I shall have to grow accustomed to all this⊠splendor," you said, your voice softer now, almost resigned. "After all, it will soon be my duty to see that Howlett Manor is properly kept." The words felt strange on your tongue, as though you were speaking of another womanâs life.
Lord Howlettâs expression shifted, just a touch. "It will be more than a duty, Miss Langley," he said quietly, his gaze steady on you. "I would have you feel at home here. In time." There was a note of sincerity in his voice that gave you pause, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he truly meant itâor if he was simply trying to soothe you like one would a skittish horse.
You nodded, though you did not entirely trust yourself to reply. The weight of the ring on your finger suddenly seemed heavier, its emerald catching the light with a glint that reminded you of promises yet to be fulfilled, and choices that had been made for you long before you ever set foot in this grand house.
"Come, dearest," your mother interrupted, her voice bright with forced cheer as she swept back over to you. "Lord Howlettâs mother is expecting us for tea. We wouldnât want to keep the Dowager waiting, now would we?"
You inclined your head in reluctant agreement and began to follow her, but just before you reached the door, you glanced back at Lord Howlett. His gaze met yours, and for a brief, disquieting moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something genuine thereâa glimmer of hope or perhaps doubt. Then he turned away, and you were left wondering if you had imagined it altogether.
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"I am pleased you accepted my invitation for tea," Lady Elizabeth said, her tone as cool and crisp as the fine china from which she sipped.Â
The butler moved gracefully between the three of you, filling cups with practiced precision. "I am a very busy woman, as you can imagine, but I thought it prudent to speak with you before the ball this evening." Her gaze slid over you and your mother with an assessing look that felt more like judgment than welcome.Â
Your mother offered a polite smile, though you could see the strain in it. "We are honored, Lady Elizabeth. I have heard so much about your journeys. You must have seen some remarkable places. I do envy such a fulfilling life⊠though, of course, my duties keep me at home with my family."
Lady Elizabethâs lips tightened as if your mother's words had struck the wrong chord. Her eyesâcold and calculatingârested on you, and you could feel the weight of her scrutiny. It was clear she did not much care for the Langleys, despite the upcoming union. Perhaps she tolerated this match because it served her sonâs purposes, but not out of any fondness for you or your family.
Sensing the chill in the room, you made an effort to soften the atmosphere. "You must have had some wonderful experiences. Where do your travels take you, Lady Elizabeth?" you asked, attempting a pleasant tone.
The older woman waved the butler away, her movements sharp as she took up her teacup once more. "All over England, and occasionally the Continent. I have been fortunate enough to travel extensively," she said, though there was a faint trace of bitterness in her voice. "Of course, it was never meant to be a solitary pursuit. My late husband and I had always dreamed of seeing the world together." She paused, her expression hardening. "Alas, we do not always get the lives we wish for."
Your mother nodded sympathetically, though Lady Elizabeth seemed to pay her little attention. "How dreadful, losing one's partner," your mother said softly. "It must be some comfort to have your son by your side."
Lady Elizabeth gave a faint, humorless chuckle, setting her cup down with a little too much force. "Logan?" she said, as though the name itself tasted sour on her tongue. "He is a dutiful son, I suppose, though I always did wish..." Her voice trailed off, and she pressed her lips together in a thin line before continuing, "Well, it does not matter. One cannot change what is already done."
You felt a jolt of surprise at her words. There was no warmth when she spoke of Lord Howlettâonly a veiled disappointment that seemed to cut deeper than mere disapproval. The realization unsettled you, and against your better judgment, a small pang of sympathy stirred in your chest. What must it be like, you wondered, to be judged so harshly by oneâs mother? To be seen as little more than a reminder of unfulfilled dreams?
"Lord Howlett has been⊠kind," you offered, your voice gentler than before. "He has made efforts to make me feel welcome."
Lady Elizabethâs sharp gaze flicked to you, her eyes narrowing as though she could sense the faintest hint of defense in your tone. "He is a man who understands his duty," she said curtly. "Nothing more, nothing less. But you would do well not to mistake that for kindness, Miss Langley. He has his fatherâs temperamentâstubborn and unyielding. It will not be an easy life for you, no matter how pretty the ring on your finger."
Her words were like a slap, though you werenât entirely certain if they were meant for you or her son. The way she spoke of him, as though he were a disappointment, made your chest tighten with an emotion you hadnât expectedâpity. It was a curious thing to feel toward a man youâd only just begun to know, but it was there all the same, lingering at the edges of your thoughts like a stubborn shadow.
Your mother quickly changed the subject, her voice a touch too bright. "Well, Lady Elizabeth, I must say, your home is simply splendid. The ball will surely be the event of the season." She turned to you with a pointed look, the silent reminder clear: Remember why weâre here. Play your part.
"Yes, Iâm sure it will be⊠lovely," you murmured, though you felt none of the enthusiasm your motherâs words suggested. The idea of the ballâa grand spectacle where you and Lord Howlett would be displayed like fine wares, a symbol of union that felt far from heartfeltâmade you want to retreat even further into yourself. But retreating was not an option, not when duty beckoned.
Lady Elizabeth's expression softened, though only slightly. "I expect nothing less," she said, her gaze sweeping over you both. "We must present a united front, after all. Appearances matter, even when the heart is not engaged."
The words hung in the air, heavy with implications. You glanced at your mother, who was nodding as though everything Lady Elizabeth said was perfectly reasonable. Yet you couldnât help but wonder if there was a warning hidden in her toneâa reminder of what this marriage was truly about.
"Well, then," your mother said, setting her empty teacup aside, "we should go upstairs and prepare. There is much to be done before this evening."
Lady Elizabeth waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes. I have given instructions to the maids. They will see that everything is in order."
With that, you rose from your seat, grateful for the excuse to leave the stifling parlor. As you and your mother made your way up the grand staircase, you cast one last glance at Lady Elizabeth, who was staring into the distance, her expression as cold and remote as the marble statues that lined the hall.
At that moment, you thought of Lord Howlett again and wondered what it would be like to grow up under the shadow of such an unforgiving womanâone who seemed to see nothing but what could have been, rather than what was. It didnât excuse his sternness, his brooding demeanor, but it offered some small insight into why he might be the way he was.
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The ball was a spectacle of shimmering lights and lavish dĂ©cor, each detail carefully orchestrated to impress. The chandeliers above cast a warm, golden glow over the guests, who moved in graceful circles across the marble floor like figures in a painting.Â
Your gownâan opulent creation of deep sapphire silk embroidered with silver threadâcaught the light with every turn, the fabric glinting like starlight and drawing the eyes of those around you. You felt their stares lingering, appraising, but it was as if they were looking at a finely dressed doll rather than a flesh-and-blood woman.
Your mother had drifted off, eager to mingle and sing the praises of this grand match. It left you standing alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces, the polite chatter around you blurring into a single, indistinct hum. Though the event had ostensibly been arranged in your honor, it felt more like you were a prize on display, set out for the approval of society rather than for any true celebration.
Determined not to appear lost, you moved to the edge of the ballroom, your gloved fingers trailing over the polished surface of a side table laden with flowers. You caught snatches of conversation as you passed by small clusters of guests, their voices rising and falling like the strings of an orchestra.
"Well, I must say, it's quite the surprise that Lady Elizabeth managed to secure such a match for her son," a woman's voice murmured, low and conspiratorial. You glanced to your left and saw a pair of elegantly dressed women in their middle years, their fans fluttering as they spoke. "I had begun to think poor James would never find a bride. His temperament is not exactly⊠charming."
Another voice chimed in, this one with an edge of mischief. "And his mother hardly helps matters, does she? Lady Elizabeth has been a terror for years, ever since her husband died. I can't imagine growing up under such a cold hand."
"Well," the first woman continued with a sigh, "he was always the dutiful son. But duty is hardly enough to make one pleasant company, is it?"
Their words settled over you like a damp mist, uncomfortable and cloying. You were still learning who Lord Howlettâor James, as they called himâtruly was, but you had already sensed that the relationship between him and his mother was strained. Hearing it discussed so openly, with such dismissiveness, only added to the unease you had felt since the start of the evening. It was as though you were intruding on a story that was not yours, but in which you had unwillingly become a central character.
Feeling a knot tighten in your chest, you turned abruptly and made your way toward the terrace doors. You needed airâsomething to clear the suffocating sense of being scrutinized, and judged, even before the real marriage had begun.Â
Pushing through the doors, you stepped out into the cool night, grateful for the brisk wind that carried the scent of autumn leaves and distant rain.
The garden stretched out before you, illuminated by lanterns that flickered in the dark like tiny fireflies. You had barely taken a few steps when you saw a figure leaning against the stone balustrade at the far end of the terrace. His silhouette was unmistakable, broad-shouldered, and tense, with the light of the nearest lantern casting half his face in shadow.
"Lord Howlett," you said, your voice carrying a trace of surprise despite yourself. "I didnât expect to find you out here, avoiding your ball."
He turned at the sound of your voice, his dark gaze finding yours in the dim light. "And I didnât expect to find you fleeing the festivities," he replied, his tone dry but not unkind. "Is the grand occasion not to your liking, Miss Langley?"
You moved closer, folding your arms against the chill, though it was not entirely the cold that made you shiver. "It is grand, yes," you said, the words feeling hollow even as you spoke them. "But it is also⊠overwhelming. It seems everyone here has something to say about you and your family."
His expression tightened, a shadow passing over his features. "Let me guess," he said, his voice dropping to a rough murmur. "Theyâve been speaking of my mother and me, as though we are some tragic figures to be pitied or criticized." He gave a short, humorless laugh. "People always do."
You hesitated, uncertain whether to reveal what you had overheard. Something in the darkness of his gaze, in the way his shoulders seemed to carry a weight that had nothing to do with the fine tailoring of his coat, made you speak. "They said⊠that your mother is difficult, and that youâŠ" You trailed off, suddenly unsure. "That you have always been dutiful, but that it does not make you pleasant company."
His jaw tightened, and for a moment you thought he might turn away from you and retreat into the silence of the garden. But then he sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "My mother is a difficult woman," he admitted, his tone devoid of any attempt at pretense. "She was not always so, but after my father died⊠she became colder. As though his death froze something in her. She has never quite forgiven me for not being the son she imagined I should be."
The raw honesty in his voice startled you. It was the first time you had heard him speak so openly, and the words cut through your resentment like a knife through silk, leaving you with an unexpected ache. "I'm sorry," you said softly, though you knew the words were inadequate. "It must be⊠difficult, to carry that."
His gaze shifted back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "It is," he said quietly, "but I do not seek pity, Miss Langley. I am only telling you this becauseâ" He hesitated as if weighing the significance of what he was about to say. "Because I would have you understand that I do not wish to marry out of obligation any more than you do. But life is rarely kind enough to allow us our preferences."
You took a slow breath, feeling the tension in the air between you, taut and humming. "Then what do you wish for, my lord?" you asked, the question coming out softer than you intended. "If not obligation, then what?"
He was silent for a long moment, his gaze steady on you as though searching for something in your eyes. "If we must go through with this," he said at last, "then perhaps we might find some way to make it bearable. To be⊠companions, at the very least." He gave a small, rueful smile, one that barely reached his eyes. "And you neednât call me 'Lord Howlett' anymore. It sounds as though we are forever strangers. You may call me Logan if you wish."
The use of his given name felt strange on your tongue, but not unpleasantly so. "Logan," you repeated, testing the feel of it. The intimacy of the gesture surprised you, and for the first time, you wondered if perhaps there was more to this man than the stern exterior he showed the world. "Very well. But only if you call me by my name as well. I would prefer not to feel like a stranger in my marriage."
"Agreed," he said, the faintest trace of warmth returning to his voice. "Then we shall start there, at least."
You nodded, a small, reluctant smile curling your lips. The path ahead was still fraught with uncertainty, but for the first time, the weight on your chest seemed to lift just a little, as though you had found a foothold on a steep climb. The night air no longer felt quite so cold, and the lights of the ballroom behind you seemed a world away, as though the two of you were the only people in existence.
"PerhapsâŠ" you began hesitantly, your voice almost lost in the cool night air. "Perhaps you like to dance?" The suggestion came out more tentative than you intended, as though you were testing the ground beneath you for cracks. "IâI don't know if you are a dancer, butâ"
"I am not," Logan interrupted, his tone blunt as ever. His gaze flicked to the ballroom beyond the terrace, where the strains of a lively waltz floated out through the open doors.
You nodded quickly, heat rising to your cheeks as awkwardness settled over you like a heavy cloak. "I see. Well, then," you said, already beginning to turn away, "I should probablyâ"
"Wait," he said, his voice softer now, almost as if he regretted his abruptness. "I may not be a dancer by nature, butâŠ" He extended his hand, gloved and steady, toward you. "I suppose I could make an exception. For tonight."
You hesitated, glancing between his outstretched hand and his eyes, which held a flicker of something unexpectedâperhaps even a hint of apology. It seemed as though he was offering more than just a dance; he was offering a moment of truce, a chance to find common ground, if only for the span of a waltz.Â
Slowly, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin fabric of your glove.
He led you back through the terrace doors and onto the polished floor of the ballroom. The light was softer here, the shadows of the grand chandeliers dancing across the marble in tandem with the swirling couples.Â
Logan's hand found its place at your waist, and you felt the light pressure of his fingers against your back as he drew you closer. His other hand held yours gently, as though he were wary of holding on too tightly.
"You may find I am somewhat clumsy," he said, his voice low and edged with a reluctant humor. "I am better suited to riding or fencing than to this⊠delicate footwork."
"Then I shall tread lightly," you replied, a small, teasing smile touching your lips as you met his gaze. "It wouldn't do to embarrass you in front of your guests."
A wry glint sparked in his eyes. "I'd wager you would enjoy that far more than you should," he murmured, his tone laced with dry amusement.
The music swelled around you, and as you began to move, you could feel the tension in Logan's posture. His steps were careful at first, almost hesitant, as though he were measuring each movement to ensure he did not misstep. Yet, as the dance went on, a certain ease began to creep in. There was a surprising steadiness in the way he guided you, his hold neither too firm nor too tentative, as though he were learning how to match your pace.
"You're not a terrible dancer, you know," you said after a moment, allowing yourself to relax into the rhythm. "I think you may have misled me."
He gave a soft chuckle, the sound rumbling low in his chest. "If you say so. Though I still feel like an imposter among these graceful sorts." His gaze swept briefly over the other dancers, his expression thoughtful. "I imagine this isnât exactly the kind of evening you dreamt of when you thought of marriage."
You glanced up at him, surprised by the note of genuine curiosity in his voice. "No," you admitted, your tone candid. "But Iâm not certain I ever dreamt of marriage at all. Not in the way young girls often do. I always thought⊠well, that I might have a choice in the matter. That I would marry someone of my choosing." The words slipped out before you could weigh them, and you immediately wondered if you had said too much.
Loganâs grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. "And yet here you are," he said quietly, his gaze locking onto yours, "dancing with a man you did not choose."
"Here I am," you echoed, unable to disguise the faint edge of resignation in your voice. "But you should know, LoganâI have not resigned myself to being simply dutiful." There was a challenge in your eyes as you met his, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you moving in time with the music. "I do not intend to be a wife in name only, nor a woman without her mind."
The corner of his mouth lifted, though the expression was not quite a smile. "Good," he said, the word a murmur. "I would not want a wife who could be so easily subdued." There was a pause, and then he added, as if it cost him something to say it, "You have a strength about you, a fire. It⊠suits you."
His words, spoken so plainly, sent a shiver down your spine from the strange thrill of being seen, even if only for a moment. "Logan?" you asked, your voice almost a whisper. "What do you want from this⊠arrangement?"
The dance slowed, and he guided you to a stop at the edge of the ballroom, where the light was softer and the music faded into the background. His gaze never wavered from yours, and for an instant, you could see the layers of guardedness in his eyes, the uncertainty mingled with something deeper.
"I suppose I want what anyone wants," he said at last, the honesty in his tone startlingly raw. "A life that is⊠bearable, at the very least. Perhaps, in time, something more than just duty." His hand lingered on your waist, as though he was reluctant to let you go. "But I will not force affection where it does not exist. I would rather we find some common ground, even if that is all we ever share."
The tension between you hung in the air like a breath unspent, and you found yourself nodding, your throat tight. "I suppose that is a start," you said, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips. "But I will warn you, LoganâI have little talent for settling for 'bearable.' If I am to find contentment, it will be on my terms."
"Then let it be on your terms," he replied, his voice soft but resolute. "As long as you allow me to learn them."
The music swelled once more, the moment passed, but something unspoken lingered between you, fragile and tentative. As you moved away from the dance floor, you could not help but feel that you had glimpsed the man behind the titleâneither a brooding lord nor a reluctant suitor, but someone trying, just as you were, to make sense of the path that lay ahead.
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The days before the wedding passed in a blur of preparations, each one more elaborate than the last. Your mother seemed determined to outdo herself in every detail, from the arrangements of the flowers to the grandness of the banquet, as though an opulent ceremony could distract from the quiet desperation behind it.Â
The Langleys were teetering on the brink of ruin, yet she had no qualms about spending lavishly, especially since it was Lord Howlettâs money footing the bill. It only pressed your nerves further, making you feel as though you were hurtling toward an unknown fate with no time to catch your breath.
Your sisters were surprisingly calm about it all, their usual youthful chatter subdued by a vague, uneasy acceptance. One of them, the youngest, had even confessed her concern as you helped her brush out her hair the night before. âDo you have to marry him?â she whispered, her wide eyes full of worry. âPeople say heâs⊠odd. They say his temper is frightful, and he spends too much time away from society.â
You forced a reassuring smile, though you could not quite summon the words to soothe her fearsâwhen your own still lingered in the corners of your mind.
Yet, if there was any solace to be found in those frantic days, it was in the quiet hours you spent by your father's side. His health had declined steadily over the past year, leaving him confined to his bed more often than not, and you took every opportunity to care for him, fetching his tea, sitting with him in the evenings, and reading aloud from his favorite books. He was the one constant in your world, and though you tried to keep the worry from your voice, he seemed to sense the storm that raged beneath your calm facade.
One evening, you sat beside him in the dim glow of the bedside candlelight, the murmur of the household carrying faintly through the closed door. Your fatherâs eyes, though weary, still held a spark of the warmth that had always comforted you. He reached for your hand, his grip gentle but steady. "You seem troubled, my dear," he said softly. "I imagine it is not just the bustle of the preparations weighing on you."
You hesitated, but then sighed, letting some of your defenses fall. "I suppose I am⊠uncertain," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "There is so much talkâabout Lord Howlettâs character, about his reputation. I hardly know him at all, and yet I am to marry him."
Your fatherâs expression softened, a faint smile touching his lips. "Youâre right to have your doubts, but there is more to James than society sees," he said, his voice low and earnest. "He is a good man, despite what people may say. I have known him for some time."
You looked at him with surprise. "You have?"
He nodded, a faraway look in his eyes as if recalling something from long ago. "I once had the chance to see the measure of his character firsthand," he began. "It was a few years back before his father passed. There was an incident in the villageâa fire broke out in one of the cottages. I had gone down to see if I could offer any assistance, and there was James, knee-deep in the smoke and chaos, helping to pull a family from the burning house. He didnât wait for anyone else to actâhe just did what had to be done." He paused, his gaze meeting yours with quiet intensity. "Afterwards, when the villagers tried to thank him, he brushed it off as though it were nothing."
You listened, the image of Logan emerging from the smokeâa man of action rather than wordsâforming in your mind. It didnât fit the stories whispered about him at all, the rumors of a cold, temperamental lord who preferred his solitude to society.Â
"He doesnât wear his virtues for others to see," your father continued, his tone tender. "But they are there, and I would not have agreed to this marriage if I didnât believe he was worthy of you." His voice dipped, softening. "In fact, it was I who insisted upon it."
The admission struck you like a sudden breeze, and you blinked in surprise. "You insisted?"Â
A faint chuckle escaped him, though it was tinged with sadness. "Your mother had other plans," he confessed. "She wanted you to marry Viscount Ashcombe. But I knew that man for what he wasâa charming rake with a smile that hid his vices. He would have squandered what little we had left and treated you as nothing more than a pretty ornament for his arm. I could not allow that."
A shudder of relief ran through you. Viscount Ashcombe had indeed been a frequent guest at Langley House, his charming demeanor masking a calculating gaze you had never quite trusted. That your father had shielded you from such a fate filled you with a new, deep gratitude, but also a touch of guilt. "And⊠Lord Howlett?" you asked, your voice hesitant. "You truly believe he is a better choice?"
"I do," your father said simply, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "James may not be the gentleman of societyâs dreams, but he is honorable, and he would not see you come to harm. I have seen how he looks at you, even if you have not noticed it yourself. There is a kindness there, though it is buried deep. I only ask that you give him a chance to prove himself to you."
You felt the sting of tears behind your eyes, not out of sadness, but from the overwhelming tenderness in your fatherâs words. He had always been a voice of reason and quiet strength, and if he believed Logan was a good man, perhaps there was something more to this arrangement than mere obligation. "I shall try, Papa," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "If you think it right, I shall try."
A soft smile curved his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray curl behind your ear. "That is all I could ever ask of you, my dear," he said gently. "And remember, marriage is not defined by society's expectations or even by the beginnings it is built upon. It is shaped by the choices you make together, by how you face the world as one."
You stayed with him a while longer, resting your head on the pillow beside his as he spoke of simpler thingsâmemories of your childhood, stories of when he and your mother first met. Yet, as his voice grew softer and the evening deepened, your thoughts drifted to Logan, and you wondered if this marriage could truly be more than just duty.
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"Stop squirming, dear. You'll ruin the lace," your mother chided, her tone sharp with impatience. The maid's fingers fumbled with the last of the tiny pearl buttons running down the back of your gown. You tried to stand still, though your nerves thrummed beneath your skin like the tension of a tightly wound string.
"But it's itchy," you complained, wincing as the delicate lace sleeves brushed against your arms again, the fine fabric more irritating than luxurious at that moment. The dress, an ivory satin creation with lace overlay, clung to your frame like a beautiful prison, its layers heavy and constricting. You stared at your reflection in the looking glassâthe bride-to-be staring back at you was almost unrecognizable, her cheeks pale and eyes wide with the uncertainty she couldnât quite mask.Â
"Beauty is not meant to be comfortable," your mother said briskly, stepping forward to adjust your veil with quick, efficient movements. "Today of all days, you must endure a little discomfort." She pressed a kiss to your forehead, though there was no true tenderness in the gestureâonly the determination of a woman who would see her daughter wed, no matter what doubts might linger in the air.
You glanced toward the window where the light spilled in, illuminating the fine dust motes that danced in the air. Beyond the glass, the sprawling grounds of Howlett Manor stretched out, perfectly manicured and bedecked with white roses for the occasion. Guests were beginning to arrive, their carriages forming a neat line along the drive, and you felt a fresh wave of apprehension as the realization settled in by the end of this day, you would be Lady Howlett. No longer just yourself, but part of something larger and more daunting than you had ever imagined.
"Come, dear. It is time," your mother said, her voice taking on a softened tone that still carried an edge of insistence. She took your hand and led you down the grand staircase, the train of your gown trailing like a whisper behind you. As you reached the bottom step, a footman opened the doors, and the warm summer air rushed in, carrying with it the faint strains of music and the murmurs of assembled guests.
The ceremony itself was to take place in the garden, beneath a canopy of white silk, with roses entwined in the trellis above. You took your place at the entrance of the aisle, your breath catching in your throat as the music swelled.
Ahead of you, the guests rose to their feet, their eyes upon you like a sea of expectations. You felt as though you were walking into a story already written, where every step was a line you could not change.
Then you saw him.
Logan stood at the end of the aisle, his back straight and his face composed, but there was a different look about him todayâsomething more open in his expression as if the stern lines of his features had softened slightly in the golden light. He was dressed in a dark coat and waistcoat, his cravat a crisp white, and for the first time, you thought he looked less like the brooding lord and more like any other man, perhaps even a little⊠nervous. The thought was oddly comforting, to see that he too might be feeling the weight of this moment.
What truly caught your attention was the sight of him speaking with a young womanâhis cousin, Marie, whom you had met briefly the night before. She stood close to him, her dark curls bouncing as she laughed softly at something he said. Loganâs face, usually so guarded, was uncharacteristically warm. He reached out to gently touch her arm, a small smile playing on his lips. There was an ease in his manner that you had not seen before. It was a different side of himâa side that seemed capable of tenderness.
As if sensing your gaze, Logan looked up and met your eyes. The warmth did not fade from his expression; if anything, it deepened, and he gave you a small, reassuring nod. It was a subtle gesture, but there was something in it that steadied your breathâa silent acknowledgment that whatever lay ahead, you did not have to face it alone.
The music began again, and you took a step forward, then another, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you moved down the aisle. Your gaze remained fixed on Logan, his presence grounding you as you drew nearer. When you finally reached him, he extended his hand, and you placed yours in it, the warmth of his touch radiating through your glove.
His fingers squeezed yours gently, a subtle comfort. âBreathe,â he whispered, his voice low enough that only you could hear. âYouâre doing fine.â
You exhaled, a shaky breath escaping you, and for a moment, the knot in your chest loosened. âYou seem remarkably calm,â you replied quietly, glancing up at him. âAre you not nervous at all?â
His lips curved into a faint smile, one that was almost playful. âTerrified, if you must know,â he admitted, his eyes holding yours. âBut Iâve been told I hide it well.â
A surprised laugh slipped out before you could stop it, the sound quiet and breathless. You hadnât expected him to share such a candid confession, and somehow, it made everything feel a little less daunting.Â
The priest began to speak, the familiar words of the ceremony flowing around you, and though your mind still buzzed with nerves, you found yourself clinging to that moment of shared honesty, to the knowledge that beneath Loganâs composed exterior, a man was grappling with uncertainty, just as you were.
As the vows were exchanged, Loganâs voice was steady, but there was a sincerity in his tone that made you look up at him again, your pulse quickening. He held your gaze as he spoke, and at that moment, it felt as though the rest of the world had faded awayâleaving only the two of you standing there, joined in a promise neither of you had fully chosen but both were willing to see through.
When it came time to place the ring on your finger, his hand lingered over yours, his touch careful, almost reverent. âYouâre not alone in this,â he said softly, just for you to hear, his breath warm against your ear. âAnd you never will be.â
The words settled in your chest, bringing with them a quiet sense of resolve. As the priest declared you husband and wife, you felt a strange mix of relief and anticipation, as though you were standing at the edge of something new and uncertain, but not entirely unwelcome.Â
You glanced at Logan once more, catching a glimpse of that same warmth in his eyes, and for the first time, you wondered if perhaps there might be room, however small, for something real to grow.
When he leaned in to kiss you, you hesitated for a moment. He was gentle, almost tentative as though he were offering you not just a gesture of the ceremony but a promise of something more. The guests cheered and the music swelled pulling you back.Â
ââââàšà§ââââ
The reception was in full swing by the time you made your way downstairs. The lively hum of conversation and clinking of glasses echoed through the grand hall, but the merriment seemed to blur at the edges of your awareness. Your mind was still reeling from the conversation youâd had with your mother moments beforeâher not-so-subtle suggestions about "wifely duties" and the inevitability of sharing a bed with your husband tonight.Â
The thought made your stomach twist, and your cheeks were still warm with embarrassment. You had hoped to delay that particular aspect of marriage, at least for a while, but there was no denying the weight of expectation pressing down on you.
As you rounded a corner into one of the quieter wings of the manor, you slowed your steps, grateful for a moment of reprieve from the noise and the prying eyes.Â
It was then that you caught sight of Lady Elizabeth, standing near the far end of the corridor with another woman you vaguely recognizedâa guest, perhaps, or a distant relation whose name escaped you. They were somewhat obscured by the shadows, their heads bowed close together as they spoke in low, urgent voices.
You stopped short, instinctively stepping back to avoid being seen, but their conversation drifted toward you in hushed but distinct whispers.
"âŠit was the only way to ensure his claim to the manor," Lady Elizabeth said, her voice cold and matter-of-fact. "You understand, donât you? A bastard child cannot inherit Howlett Manor unless certain⊠conditions are met."
The other woman gasped softly, her fan fluttering nervously at her throat. "Are you saying James isâ"
"A bastard," Lady Elizabeth cut in, the word sharp and unyielding. "Yes. He is the son of a groundskeeper we had. I had an affairâbrief, foolishâand yet, here we are. The late Lord Howlett agreed to raise him as his own, but only if Logan did what was necessary to preserve the family name and secure the estate. That meant marrying, producing an heir⊠appearing respectable." Her tone held a trace of bitterness, as though the situation was a distasteful chore she had no choice but to accept.
The truth struck you like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath from your lungs. You gripped the edge of the doorway, your fingers digging into the wood as the world seemed to tilt around you. Logan is not truly the heir to Howlett Manor? He is⊠illegitimate?
The whispers continued, their voices fading in and out. "âŠmust keep it quiet, of course," Lady Elizabeth was saying. "If anyone found out the truth, it would cause a scandal. All the wealth, the manorâgone. That is why this marriage was so important. He needs a legitimate heir, and quickly."
You could hardly process what you were hearing. The weight of the revelation pressed down on you, filling your chest with a mixture of shock and betrayal. You had known there were expectations upon this marriage, pressures you had not fully understood, but this⊠this was an entirely different kind of entanglement. It wasnât just a matter of appearances or dutyâit was a lie. A lie that Logan had kept from you, that his mother had kept from society, a lie that now entangled you as well.
Forcing yourself to remain calm, you stepped back quietly, retreating before they could notice you. Your heart pounded in your ears as you made your way to one of the smaller parlors, where you sank into a chair, your mind spinning.Â
The scandal this could causeâif the truth were to come out, it would ruin not just Logan, but your family as well. The very thing you had married to avoidâthe loss of Langley House, the disgraceâwould become inevitable. I cannot tell anyone, you thought, a tremor running through you. No one can know.
Later, you found yourself drifting through the reception, the laughter and music around you feeling like a distant, disjointed melody. You did your best to play your partâthe smiling bride, the gracious hostessâbut every time you caught sight of Logan across the room, a fresh wave of unease washed over you.Â
You wondered how long he had known, how long he had kept this secret hidden from you. Had he intended to tell you eventually, or had he planned to let you live in ignorance, a pawn in his efforts to secure a future for himself?
As if summoned by your thoughts, Logan approached you near the edge of the ballroom, where you had retreated once more to catch your breath. His expression was softer than usual, and there was an unexpected warmth in his eyes as he came to stand beside you. "You look⊠radiant," he said quietly, his voice low and gentle. He reached out to brush a stray curl from your cheek, his fingers lingering near your temple. "I was looking for you earlier. I was hoping to steal a dance."
You stiffened at his touch, the tenderness in his tone feeling almost like a mockery in light of what you now knew. You forced a smile, though it felt brittle, and nodded. "A dance? Yes, of course. It is⊠our wedding day, after all."
His brow furrowed slightly, as though sensing that something was amiss. "Is everything all right?" he asked, his voice dipping with concern. "You seem⊠distant."
How could I possibly tell you? The question burned at the back of your throat, but you swallowed it down. "I'm just⊠overwhelmed," you replied, letting out a small, shaky breath. "Itâs all been so⊠sudden." It wasnât entirely a lie, and you hoped he would accept it.
His hand found yours, and he gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze. "I understand," he said softly. "Itâs a great deal to take in. But youâre not alone in this." There was a genuine kindness in his eyes, a sincerity that should have comforted you, but instead only deepened your sense of betrayal. You knew that while he spoke these words of reassurance, there was a secret between youâone that threatened to unravel everything if it ever came to light.
You allowed him to lead you onto the dance floor, you couldnât help but feel like you were playing a role, just as much as he was. The music swelled, and you fell into step with him, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder, his arm firm around your waist. He looked down at you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken, but instead of feeling warmth, you felt a chill.
"Iâm glad youâre here," Logan murmured as you danced, his voice low enough for only you to hear. "I know we didnât choose this, but⊠Iâd like to think we could find some measure of happiness, even if itâs not the kind we once imagined."
You met his gaze, your heart twisting painfully at the sincerity in his expression. He looked at you as though you were the only person in the world, and yet⊠you could not forget the conversation you had overheard, the truth that hung like a shadow between you. "Yes," you replied, forcing the words out even as they tasted bitter. "I suppose we could try."
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Weâll figure it out," he whispered. "Together."
The word together stung, and as you looked up at him, you wondered if he was truly offering you a partnershipâor simply playing a part in a carefully crafted lie.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The wedding celebration had stretched late into the night, and when it was finally over, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The laughter, music, and endless well-wishers had been exhausting, and you had longed to retreat somewhere quiet and familiar.Â
But Langley House was no longer your sanctuary; Howlett Manor was now your home, and the realization settled heavily on your shoulders as the last guests departed, and the manor returned to its usual stillness.
The early morning air was cool and damp, the dew clinging to your skin as you stood on the grand steps of Howlett Manor, watching your family prepare to leave. The sight of their carriage waiting at the end of the gravel drive stirred a longing in your chest, a longing to climb inside and return with them to the warmth and comfort of your childhood home, to the place where you still knew who you were.
Your father embraced you gently, his kiss a soft brush against your cheek. "Youâll be fine, my dear," he murmured, his voice both reassuring and tinged with sadness. "Remember, if ever you need anything, we are only a letter away."
You nodded, managing a small, tight smile. "I know, Papa." But as you pulled back, a knot formed in your throat, and you had to bite your lip to keep it from trembling.
Your sisters crowded around you, their eyes bright with mischief and concern. "Now you're a proper lady, a married woman!" one teased, nudging your arm. "We expect to see you behaving with all the decorum of a countess." Another giggled, adding, "Try not to be too miserable without us."
You forced a laugh, waving them off as they climbed into the carriage, and you watched it roll away, the wheels crunching over the gravel until the sound faded into the distance. As the carriage disappeared from view, the sense of loneliness settled in, a cold, creeping sensation that sank into your bones.Â
Howlett Manor was vast, with its sprawling halls and echoing chambers, but it felt impossibly empty, like a hollow shell. The servants bustled about with quiet efficiency, their footsteps barely audible on the polished floors, but their presence did little to fill the silence. There was no life here, none of the warm chaos you were used toâjust endless rooms and corridors that all seemed to lead nowhere.
You wandered, your slippers brushing over the ornate rugs, your fingers trailing along the smooth banisters. At Langley House, there had always been some comfort in the small, familiar things: the chipped vase on the mantelpiece, the faded armchair your father favored, the distant sound of your sisters' laughter drifting through the halls.Â
But here, everything was pristine and grand, untouched by time or sentiment. It was as though the very walls resisted your presence, like an indifferent host merely tolerating a guest.
Eventually, you found yourself in a small library tucked away on the eastern side of the manor. It was far more modest than the grand, formal library you had glimpsed earlierâthis room seemed a bit forgotten, its shelves crammed to the brim with books of every kind. The air smelled faintly of dust and leather, and a few stray beams of sunlight spilled through the narrow window, illuminating particles that danced lazily in the air.
You sank into a worn armchair by the window, its upholstery faded from years of sunlight. It wasnât a particularly inviting chair, but it was the first place you had found that didnât seem to insist upon its grandeur, that didnât make you feel quite so out of place.Â
Your fingers traced the spines of the books nearbyâcollections of poetry, histories, and old novels whose covers were cracked with age. You pulled a volume at random from the shelf and settled back, trying to lose yourself in the words, but the text seemed to blur before your eyes, and you couldnât shake the emptiness that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts.
The loneliness here was different from what you had expected. It wasnât the sharp sting of missing your family, nor was it the cold silence of being truly alone.Â
Rather, it was a kind of isolation that seeped into you even when surrounded by peopleâpeople who knew their place here, who moved about the manor with the easy familiarity you lacked. Even Logan, who youâd scarcely seen since the wedding day, seemed a stranger to this place at times. You had caught glimpses of him in passing, his brow furrowed in thought or his expression distant, and you wondered if he too felt as though he did not entirely belong.
You had just begun to drift off into an uneasy doze when the sound of voices outside the library door roused you. You started, closing the book and setting it aside as the door opened and Logan stepped in, speaking quietly with his cousin, Marie. There was a lightness to his tone, a warmth you had rarely heard in his voice. He laughed at something she said, the sound deep and genuine, and there was a soft smile on his lips as he reached out to ruffle her hair in an affectionate, brotherly gesture.
You felt a pang of something you could not quite nameâjealousy, perhaps, or simply longing. It was strange to see him this way, unguarded and almost joyful.Â
As if sensing your gaze, Logan looked up and saw you seated there, half-hidden behind the armchair. His smile faded slightly, but a flicker of that warmth remained as he inclined his head toward you. "I didnât realize anyone else was in here," he said, his voice carrying a faint note of surprise. "I hope we didnât disturb you."
"Not at all," you replied, rising to your feet, though the sudden movement made you feel unsteady. "I was just⊠trying to pass the time."
Marie gave you a friendly nod before excusing herself, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet library. Logan's gaze followed her for a moment, then returned to you, and you felt the weight of his attention, his curiosity.
"Have you found everything to your liking?" he asked, his tone polite, though there was a hint of something else in it as if he was searching for reassurance himself. "I know it must be quite an adjustmentâŠ"
"Yes," you answered, forcing a smile that felt strained. "It is⊠different, certainly." The understatement felt almost laughable, but you could not bring yourself to confess the depth of your unease. Not to him. Not yet.
Loganâs expression softened, and he took a step closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "If thereâs anything you needâanything at allâplease let me know," he said. "I would not have you feel like a stranger here."
The kindness in his voice unsettled you, for you could not help but wonder if it was merely an act, part of the role he was expected to play as a new husband. After all, how could he speak of not wanting you to feel like a stranger when he had kept the most significant part of his life hidden from you? When the very foundation of this marriage was built on secrets and necessity?
"Thank you, my lord, but I fear I will always be a stranger here," you blurted before you could stop yourself. The moment they left your lips, a flicker of regret curled in your chest, but it was too late to take them back.
Logan's brows furrowed, a shadow of concern crossing his features. "I had hoped to make you comfortable," he said, his voice measured, as though he was choosing each word with care. "If there is something amiss⊠Is your chamber not to your liking, orâ"
"It is not the chamber," you interrupted, shaking your head. "Everything here is grand. Perhaps that is the problem." You gestured vaguely around the room, where the dark wood paneling gleamed in the afternoon light, where the velvet drapes hung heavy and untouched. "Nothing feels⊠homey. It is as though I am trapped within these walls, surrounded by all this grandeur, but with nothing of substance to occupy me. There is an emptiness here and IâŠ" Your voice trailed off, uncertain how to convey the rest without sounding ungrateful or childish.
He took a step back, the distance between you widening, though his gaze remained fixed on you, unwavering. "How can you be so unhappy when it has only been hours since our wedding?" There was a hint of frustration in his tone, barely concealed. "I know this is all new, but I thoughtâ" He broke off, his jaw tightening. "I thought you were willing to give this a chance."
A dry laugh escaped you, tinged with a bitterness you hadnât meant to reveal. "Willing, yes," you replied, a tremor in your voice. "But happiness? That is another matter entirely. I was not happy to begin with, and though I did promise I would try to make this marriage work, I donât know if I can." You paused, your throat tightening around the words. "I am alone here, without my family, without my father. He has no one by his side."
Loganâs expression softened slightly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "I know it is difficult," he said quietly. "But I would not have you feel this way. If there is anything I canâ"
"I do not need reassurances, my lord," you snapped, the sharpness of your tone surprising you. You took a step toward him, the frustration and fear that had been simmering since the wedding rising to the surface. "I need honesty. I need to know that I am not merely here to serve as the solution to a problem that was never mine to begin with."
He blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "What are you talking about?"
You opened your mouth to respond, the words balanced precariously on the tip of your tongue. I know the truth. I know what your mother saidâthat you are not truly the heir, that you are aâ You swallowed, the weight of the secret pressing against your chest like a stone. But as you met his gaze, you saw a rawness there, a genuine concern that made you falter. The words died in your throat, and you looked away, unable to bring yourself to shatter whatever fragile understanding existed between you.
"Nothing," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "It is nothing."
"Is it?" he pressed, his tone gentling. He took a tentative step closer, his hand lifting as though to touch your arm, then falling back to his side. "I know this marriage did not begin as a love match, but that does not mean we cannot build something worthwhile from it. I am trying to give you a place here, but you must meet me halfway."
A bitter retort hovered on your lips, but you swallowed it back. "Halfway?" you echoed, a faint tremor in your voice. "And what would that look like? Me sitting in silence while you attend to your duties, while your mother watches over me like a hawk to ensure I fulfill my role as your wife and nothing more?"
Logan's jaw tightened, and there was a flicker of something in his eyesâanger, perhaps, or hurt, or some mixture of the two. "My mother does not dictate our marriage," he said, his tone firm. "Nor does she have a say in how I treat you."
"But does she have a say in why you married me?" The question slipped out before you could think better of it, and as soon as the words hung in the air between you, you wished you could take them back. You saw the way his expression changed, the guarded look that closed off whatever warmth had been there moments before.
"What are you trying to say?" His voice was low, his gaze piercing as though searching your face for answers you were unwilling to give.
You took a step back, wrapping your arms around yourself as though to ward off the sudden chill that seemed to fill the room. "Forget I said anything," you murmured, turning away from him. "I am simply tired. It has been a long day."
You walked away, the tension hung between you, a taut string threatening to snap at any moment. You could feel Logan's eyes on your back, his unspoken questions pressing against you like a weight. You had come so close to revealing what you knew, and now the secret lay thick and unspoken between you. Its presence impossible to ignore.
However, the damage was done. The words you hadnât said had already begun to build a wall between you, one that grew higher with every passing silence.
ââââàšà§ââââ
It was days later, in the quiet hours of the late afternoon, when Logan found you curled up in the worn armchair with a book in hand, nestled in the small, tucked-away library. It was far removed from the grand and imposing main library, which you had visited only once and found too vast, too cold for your liking.
This library felt different. It had a lived-in quality, as though it were a place where someone came to retreat from the weight of duty, a place where time seemed to slow. You had claimed it as a sanctuary of sorts, a space where you could be alone with your thoughts and the company of the old novels that lined the shelves.
You didnât notice Loganâs presence at first, not until the faint creak of the door announced him, and you looked up, startled. Rising to your feet, you brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, your loose curls tumbling over your shoulders.Â
"My lord, I did not notice you there," you said, your voice betraying a hint of the nerves that still stirred whenever you found yourself alone in his company.
Loganâs lips quirked in a faint smile, his gaze sweeping over the room before resting on you. "You donât need to stand on ceremony here," he said, his tone softer than you had expected. "And you certainly donât need to call me âmy lordâânot in this place." He glanced around at the cluttered bookshelves as if reacquainting himself with the space. "I always thought of this library as a refuge, of sorts. It seems you have found it, too."
You relaxed slightly, though you still felt a touch self-conscious. "I did not realize this was⊠your library. It felt less formal than the othersâmore⊠welcoming," you admitted, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "I hope I did not intrude."
"Not at all," he replied, stepping closer, his hands clasped casually behind his back. "In truth, Iâm glad to see someone making use of it. Iâve always preferred this room over the larger one. Thereâs a kind of comfort here, wouldnât you agree?"
You nodded, glancing back at the book you had set downâa collection of poetry. "I suppose Iâve always preferred smaller spaces. They feel less like⊠museums, more like places meant to be lived in."
Loganâs gaze drifted to the book resting on the armchair. "Byron," he noted, recognizing the gold lettering on the spine. "A man who made his life as dramatic as his verses. Are you fond of his work?"
"I am," you said, your eyes brightening at the familiar subject. "There is something about the way he captures longing and melancholy⊠It feels so human, so true."
Loganâs expression softened, a glimmer of shared understanding in his eyes. "Yes, there is a kind of honesty in his verses, even when theyâre full of exaggeration. Itâs as though heâs trying to make sense of his own heart."
He reached out, pulling a slim volume from the shelf beside him. "But Iâve always been more inclined toward Wordsworth," he confessed, turning the book over in his hands. "His love of nature, the way he finds solace in it⊠Thereâs a quietness to his poetry that I find calming."
You tilted your head, a touch of curiosity lighting your gaze. "Thatâs surprising. I didnât take you for the type to seek out⊠calm."
Logan let out a chuckle, his thumb brushing over the bookâs worn cover. "I suppose thatâs why I do seek it. A man doesnât have to look very far to find chaos, but peace⊠thatâs something worth searching for." He glanced at you, and the lightness in his expression gave way to something more thoughtful. "You know, my father always called me James. I suppose it was the name he preferredâmore dignified, I think, in his mind. But my mother⊠She always called me Logan, from the time I was a boy."
He hesitated, a shadow crossing his features. "I suppose I never stopped thinking of myself that way. James feels like⊠a stranger, a name for the person I am supposed to be, rather than the person I am."
The confession surprised you, and you found yourself searching his face, trying to understand the layers of the man standing before you. "Is that why you asked me to call you Logan?" you asked softly, as though the gesture could bridge the distance that still lay between you.Â
He nodded revealing a small smile, and for a moment, the tension seemed to ease.Â
âThen I shall call you Logan if that is who you truly are.â You said after a moment before sitting back down in the armchair, gesturing for him to take the one across from you, and after a momentâs hesitation, he did, setting the Wordsworth volume on his knee.
"Youâve made quite a collection here," you remarked, glancing around at the overflowing shelves. "I didnât realize you read so much."
Loganâs expression warmed, and he shrugged slightly. "There was always more to learn, more to understand," he said. "I suppose books were the one constant when everything else seemed uncertain."
You understood that sentiment all too well, and it struck you how much you had underestimated him. He was not just the reserved and sometimes brooding man society saw, nor merely the heir struggling to uphold his family's expectations. There was a depth to him, a yearning for something beyond duty. You wondered if you had misjudged himâor at least, not truly seen him.
"You mentioned your father," Logan said gently, breaking the silence. "I know you miss him. I⊠I would not want to keep you from seeing him. Once Iâve attended to some business here, I shall take you to Langley House. You can stay as long as you like."
The offer came so unexpectedly that you stared at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. "You would do that?" you asked, a faint tremor in your tone.
"Of course," he replied, his gaze steady on yours. "It is your home, after all. I promised I would not have you feel like a stranger here." His lips curved in a small, earnest smile. "Besides, I would not wish to be the kind of husband who denies his wife the comfort of her family."
A warmth blossomed in your chest mingled with a pang of guilt at the secret you still kept from him. For now, you allowed yourself to accept his kindness, to believe that perhaps there was something to be built between you, some foundation upon which to steady the uncertain future that lay ahead.
You returned his smile, a tentative hope stirring within you. "Thank you, Logan," you said quietly, and as the light faded from the window, the two of you sat in the small library, the silence between you no longer quite so empty.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The sun was sinking behind the trees, casting long shadows across the entryway of Howlett Manor, as you paced back and forth, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The hours had dragged on, each one heavier than the last, filled with the monotonous duties of running the householdâduties that had felt all the more tedious with your mind fixed elsewhere.Â
Your father was ill, and the news had struck like a blow to the chest, leaving you restless and frantic.
You had received the message from your mother just after midday, her handwriting trembling across the page as she described your fatherâs sudden fever. The thought of him alone, struggling for breath while you remained stuck here, had been gnawing at you ever since. You had been prepared to leave immediately, but propriety demanded you wait for Loganâs return; a lady did not travel alone, no matter the urgency. Yet the minutes had crawled by, and still, he had not come.
Finally, as the last light of day began to fade, the front door swung open, and there he stood. Loganâs hair was damp with sweat, and his coat was dusted with the evidence of his travels, but he seemed unharmedâunlike your father, whose condition you had only grown more desperate to reach with each passing moment.
"There you are," you exclaimed, your voice sharp and edged with impatience. "Iâve been waiting all day for you to return. I need to leave for Langley House at once."
Logan blinked, taken aback by your tone. "Iâm sorry, Iâ"
"My father is ill," you cut him off, your pacing quickening as you spoke. "Heâs taken a sudden fever, and I will not wait here a moment longer. I must go to him." The words tumbled out in a frantic rush, your chest tightening with every breath.
Logan frowned, concern flashing in his eyes, but his tone remained calm. "Itâs already late. The roads are dark, and it would be dangerous to travel now. We should wait until morningâ"
"Morning?" You spun to face him, incredulous. "You promised, Logan. You said as soon as your business was done, you would take me to Langley House. But now you ask me to wait even longer? My father could beâ" Your voice broke, and you swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over.
He stepped forward, his brow furrowing. "I know you're worried, but traveling in the darkâ"
"I donât care about the dark!" you shouted, your hands clenching into fists at your sides. "My father needs me, now, not when itâs convenient for you." The frustration and fear you had kept bottled up surged forward, and before you could think better of it, the words you had been holding back escaped in a rush. "I know why you married me, Logan," you said, your voice trembling with the force of your emotions. "I know the truth about youâabout who you are. A bastard son, trying to secure his inheritance through this marriage."
His expression froze, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "What⊠what are you talking about?" he asked, his voice low and uncertain, as if the ground beneath him had just shifted. "Who told youâ"
"It doesnât matter who told me," you snapped, your heart pounding as you took a step back. "What matters is that you only married me to secure your fortune, and now you would have me wait while my father suffers? You are no better than a liar, Logan." The name felt bitter on your tongue, as though it belonged to a stranger.
He reached for you, his voice urgent. "Please, just listen to me. I donâtâ"
You shook your head, unwilling to hear whatever explanations he might have. "Iâve heard enough," you said coldly, turning on your heel and marching toward the door. "Iâm going to Langley House, with or without you."
Without waiting for his response, you stormed out of the entryway and hurried to the stables, your pulse thundering in your ears. A stable hand gaped at you as you demanded a carriage be readied at once, and you hardly noticed the incredulous look the servants exchanged as you climbed inside, your hands trembling with anger and fear.
The carriage lurched forward, and you stole one last glance at the manor as it receded into the distance. You half expected Logan to follow, to call out and demand you stay, but there was nothingâonly the growing darkness and the sound of the wheels on the gravel.
As the night swallowed the road ahead, the magnitude of what you had done began to sink in. You had left without hearing his side of the story, and though part of you felt justified, another partâa quieter, more uncertain partâwondered if you had made a terrible mistake.
ââââàšà§ââââ
A few days had passed since you arrived at Langley House, and you had barely left your father's side. His fever had not yet broken, and though he sometimes seemed to drift into a peaceful sleep, there were moments when his breathing grew labored, his skin pale and damp.Â
You clung to his bedside, your hand wrapped around his frail fingers, fighting the exhaustion that pressed against your eyelids. The hours blurred together, and you lost track of time; all that mattered was being there, willing him to recover with every silent plea.
"You should rest, dear," your mother had said, her brow creased with worry as she hovered by the door. But you waved her off with a weary shake of your head, and after a momentâs hesitation, she left you be. It was the first time in days she had not insisted on something, and you were grateful for the silence.
At last, when even your determination could not keep your eyes open, you retreated to your old room. It felt strange to be there againâthe space was exactly as you had left it, a time capsule of your girlhood, yet you felt like an intruder.Â
The familiar lace curtains, the faded wallpaper, the worn quilt at the foot of the bed⊠all reminders of a past life, one that seemed distant now that you were a wife with different burdens to bear. You lay down, but sleep remained elusive, your thoughts tangled and restless.
A soft knock interrupted the quiet, rousing you from your half-conscious state. You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes as a servant peeked hesitantly through the door. "My lady," she murmured, "there is a gentleman here to see you."
Your chest tightened, a familiar dread curling in your stomach. "If it is Lord Howlett, tell him I am busy," you said, your voice sharper than you intended. You had not spoken to Logan since you left Howlett Manor in a fit of anger and hurt, and you were not sure you were ready to face him yet.
The servant hesitated, her eyes shifting toward the hall. "He was quite insistent, my lady." Before you could respond, the door creaked open wider, and there stood Logan, looking unlike you had ever seen him.
He was pale, his hair unruly as if he had run his hands through it too many times, and there were dark circles under his eyes, as though he had not slept in days. For a moment, he seemed almost a stranger, stripped of the composed exterior you had grown used to. There was a rawness about him that made your heart twist despite the anger you still felt.
"May I come in?" he asked, his voice rough, and there was a vulnerability in his expression that gave you pause.
You hesitated, your grip tightening on the edge of the quilt. "If youâve come to offer more excuses, Logan, Iâm not interested," you said, but the words lacked the conviction they had held days ago. His appearance, so disheveled and hollow, had already chipped away at your resolve.
He stepped inside without waiting for permission, closing the door gently behind him. "I donât have excuses," he said quietly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that left you breathless. "Only the truth."
You folded your arms across your chest, trying to steady yourself. "The truth?" you echoed bitterly. "And what truth would that be? That you married me only to secure your claim to Howlett Manor? That your motherâs schemes made a fool of me?"
A muscle tightened in his jaw, and he took a slow breath before answering. "I did not know," he said, the words almost a whisper, as though admitting them pained him. "I didnât know⊠until you left." He took a step closer, his voice thick with raw honesty. "After you stormed off, I confronted my mother. She⊠she told me everything. That I am not the true heir, that my father was not my father, and that the marriage was her way of ensuring my claim remained undisputed."
You stared at him, the floor seeming to shift beneath you. "You didnât know?" you repeated, scarcely able to believe it. "You expect me to believe that you were kept in the dark about something so⊠so consequential?"
"I swear to you," Logan said, his voice hoarse, "I had no idea. All my life, I believed what I was toldâthat I was the legitimate son of the late Lord Howlett. I never had reason to question it." His expression tightened, a shadow passing over his eyes. "But now⊠now I know the truth. And my motherâ" He let out a bitter, broken laugh. "Sheâs furious with me for confronting her. She wonât speak to me. Iâve lost⊠Iâve lost the only family I thought I had."
The anger you had been holding onto slipped through your fingers, replaced by an ache you had not expected. You saw the hurt in his eyes, the way he struggled to keep his voice steady, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of sympathy, even guilt. Slowly, you let your arms fall to your sides.Â
"Why did you come here?" you asked softly, your voice wavering. "Why now?"
"Because I needed you to know," he said, his gaze searching yours for somethingâunderstanding, forgiveness, perhaps even solace. "I needed you to know that I did not deceive you, not intentionally. And⊠because I hopedâŠ" His voice trailed off, and he swallowed, his eyes dark with uncertainty. "I hoped you might still be willing to come back. If not for the marriage, then⊠at least to speak with me. To try to understand."
You hesitated, your heart tugging in two directions. You had been so sure of his betrayal, so certain that he had used you, and yet now, seeing him so undone, so lost⊠It stirred something within you, a reluctant compassion that you could not quite suppress.Â
You slipped out of your bed and took a step toward him, your hand lifting slightly before you let it fall again. "Logan," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "I donât know what to say."
He looked down, his shoulders slumping as though he had been carrying a weight too heavy to bear. "Then donât say anything," he replied, his tone quiet and strained. "Just⊠let me stay. Just for a moment."
Before you knew what you were doing, you reached out, your fingers gently touching his arm. He looked up at you, surprise flickering in his eyes, and you saw how deeply this had wounded himâthis revelation that had shattered the foundation of his life. Slowly, tentatively, you let your hand rest on his shoulder, feeling the tension beneath your touch.
"Itâs not your fault," you murmured, the words coming unbidden but somehow feeling right. "You didnât ask for any of this."
His breath hitched, and he took a step closer, as though drawn to your warmth, his hand coming up to cover yours where it rested on his shoulder. "I donât know what I am now," he confessed, his voice raw. "I donât know who Iâm supposed to be."
"Well," you said softly, offering a small, tentative smile, "I suppose that's the one good thing about something so tragic. You now have the freedom to be whoever you want." Your voice carried a note of gentleness, an unspoken reassurance that you hoped might reach him.
Loganâs expression softened, though the lines of exhaustion remained etched in his face. He glanced away, as if considering your words, his hand still resting over yours. For a moment, you both stood in the quiet room, the only sound the distant ticking of a clock. The air was fragile, a sense that this moment was a truce, however brief.
You drew in a breath, your hand slipping away from his shoulder. "You look exhausted," you said, your voice just above a whisper. "You should rest."
His gaze met yours, and though he hesitated, he gave a slight nod. "If⊠if you donât mind, I could stay," he murmured, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Just for a while."
You didnât know why you agreed so readilyâperhaps it was the rawness in his voice or the way his shoulders sagged as though the weight of the world had settled there. "You can stay," you said, and then, after a beat, you added, "There is a chair by the window."
He took the offer quietly, walking over to the armchair and sinking into it as though his legs had finally given out. You climbed back into your bed, your movements slow and unsteady, and pulled the covers up to your chin, still half-aware of his presence. It was strange to think that just days ago, you had left him in a storm of anger and hurt, and now here he wasâwounded, vulnerable, and seeking comfort under the same roof as you.
Your eyes grew heavy with exhaustion, the events of the past few days catching up with you all at once. You hadnât meant to fall asleep, but the weariness seeped into your bones, and soon, you drifted off, the soft rustling of Logan shifting in the chair the last sound you heard before darkness claimed you.
ââââàšà§ââââ
You awoke with a start some hours later, the room dimly lit by the pale glow of moonlight filtering through the lace curtains. You turned over, expecting to see Logan still sitting in the armchair, but the chair was empty, a faint indentation on the cushion the only sign he had been there at all. For a moment, confusion clouded your thoughts, and you sat up, rubbing your eyes. Where could he have gone?
Rising from the bed, you wrapped your robe around yourself and padded into the hallway. The house was silent, the kind of deep stillness that only comes in the middle of the night.Â
You wandered from room to room, your footsteps echoing softly against the polished wooden floors. The familiar sights of Langley House brought a pang of nostalgia, and for a moment, you could almost imagine you were a young girl again, tiptoeing through the halls after bedtime. But the gravity of your situation quickly pulled you back to the present, and your thoughts turned to Logan.
At last, you reached your father's room and saw the door was slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling into the hallway. You pushed it open gently and paused in the doorway, your breath catching at the sight before you.
Logan was seated by your fatherâs bedside, his head bowed and his hands clasped together as if in prayer. His voice was a low murmur, almost inaudible, and though you could not make out the words, you could hear the raw emotion in them. Your father lay still, his breaths steady but faint, and you noticed the way Logan reached out to touch the old manâs hand, his fingers brushing gently over the wrinkled skin as though offering a silent promise.
You took a step inside, the floorboard creaking beneath your weight. Loganâs head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. For a heartbeat, you both remained still, the air between you thick with unspoken words.
"I didnât mean to intrude," he said quietly, his voice rough with fatigue. "I⊠I woke and found myself unable to sleep. I thought I might⊠check on him." There was a tenderness in his tone and it sent a strange warmth coursing through you.
You walked slowly to your father's bedside, your gaze shifting between the frail figure in the bed and the man sitting beside him. "You didnât have to come here," you murmured, though there was no reproach in your voice, only a quiet gratitude you had not expected to feel. "But thank you."
Logan shook his head, a faint, tired smile pulling at his lips. "I wanted to," he replied, his hand still resting on your father's. "I thought⊠if I my father were like this, I would have wanted someone to be there with him. Even if it wasnât me."
The words touched something deep within you, and you found yourself sitting down in the chair across from him. The silence settled over the room again, but it no longer felt oppressive. It was a silence of shared understanding, of finding comfort in the presence of another even when there was nothing more to be said.
"Why did you come here, Logan?" you asked softly, the question escaping before you could stop it. "Why did you follow me to Langley House after everything that happened? I know you said it was to tell me the truth butâ"Â
His gaze lifted to meet yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes. "Because I made a promise," he said, his voice steady but low. "And because⊠I didnât want you to face this alone."
A lump formed in your throat, and you looked down at your father, his breathing steady and rhythmic, as if reminding you that time was still on your side. "You didnât have to keep that promise," you whispered. "Not afterâ"
"But I wanted to," Logan interrupted, his tone firmer now. "I wanted to because⊠because I care." The last words came out in a hushed tone, as though they were fragile and needed to be handled with care. "And because, despite everything, I hoped that⊠maybe we could still find a way to make this work."
You inhaled slowly, your gaze still fixed on your father's frail form. The sincerity in Logan's voice stirred something in you that you had tried to bury beneath anger and hurt. You reached out, your hand finding Logan's where it rested on the edge of the bed. His skin was cool beneath your touch, and you felt him tense for a moment before his fingers curled gently around yours.
"I donât know what will happen," you murmured, your voice barely audible in the hushed stillness of the room. Your gaze remained fixed on your father's frail form, his breaths slow and steady. "My feelings⊠theyâre complicated. All I can think about right now is himânothing else." The words came out in a strained whisper, the weight of them pressing heavily on your chest.
Logan's eyes never left you, his expression open yet laced with concern. "Iâm not asking for anything more than for you to trust me," he said, his voice steady but soft, as though he knew this was fragile ground you stood upon. "Thatâs all, I promise."
The sincerity in his tone unsettled you more than any declaration of love or grand gesture might have. You stood, shaking your head, unable to shake the feeling that this conversation was too much for your fatherâs earsâeven if he was too weak to hear a single word. "Not here," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you walked toward the door. "This⊠itâs too much."
Logan followed you into the dimly lit hallway, pulling the door closed behind him with a quiet click. The air between you felt charged and tense, and as you turned to walk away, you felt his hand catch yours, his fingers curling around yours in a tentative hold.
"I canât make promises," you said quickly, pulling your hand free with a frustrated shake. "You say things like that, and my mind begins to spin. What if itâs all just another lie? Another way to keep me obedient and⊠and compliant." The words tumbled out, each one weighted with the uncertainty and fear that had been building inside you. "You would lose everything if we fail to produce an heir. Did your mother tell you that? Did she tell you whatâs at stake?"
Loganâs jaw tightened, and for a moment, there was a flash of something in his eyesâhurt, perhaps, or frustration.Â
When he spoke, his tone was calm, edged with a quiet determination. "She told me⊠enough," he admitted, his voice low. "Enough to know what is expected of us." He took a step closer, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart quicken. "But I am not my mother, and I did not marry you to force you into anything. I wonât make promises I canât keep, but the one thing I can swear to is this: I have no intention of deceiving you."
You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. "You say that now, but⊠what happens when time passes and there is still no heir? Will you still be so understanding then?" The doubt laced through your voice, but beneath it was a flicker of hope that you desperately tried to suppress.
His eyes softened, a mixture of sadness and resolve glinting in the depths. "I donât care about titles, or legacies, or any of the things my mother obsesses over," he said, his voice roughened by an emotion you could not name. "I care about you. I care about the truth between us, even if itâs a tangled mess right now." He reached for your hand again, his touch gentler this time, as if he were asking rather than taking. "I know Iâm not perfect, and I know you donât owe me anything. But Iâm asking you to give me a chance to prove that I can be the man you deserve, and not just the husband you ended up with because of circumstance."
You stared at his hand over yours, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, and for a moment, you couldnât speak. The walls you had built up since leaving Howlett Manor felt as though they were crumbling, brick by brick, under the weight of his words. There was still a voice inside you, one that whispered caution.
"I donât know if I can trust that," you whispered, your voice breaking. "How do I know this isnât just a way to secure what you need? How do I know youâre not saying what I want to hear just to keep me from running?"
Loganâs grip tightened slightly, his fingers lacing through yours as if to anchor you. "Because Iâm not asking you to stay for obligationâs sake," he said, the rawness in his tone sending a shiver down your spine. "Iâm asking because I want to try and build something real with youâsomething beyond what anyone else expects of us." His other hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear you hadnât realized had fallen. "If you walk away now, I wonât stop you. But if you give me a chance⊠we can start by just⊠finding a way to be ourselves again. Not lord and lady, not husband and wife, but just⊠us."
The tenderness in his touch, the way his eyes searched yours for any sign of hope, struck you deeply. You felt a swell of emotions rising within youâfear, longing, confusionâall tangled together and impossible to untangle.
Slowly, hesitantly, you let out a breath, your chest tightening as you took a step closer, feeling the warmth radiating from Loganâs skin. "All right," you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to steady it. "We can try⊠but only if weâre honest with each other. Completely honest." The words felt like both a promise and a challenge, an unspoken plea for something real in a world that often felt like a tangle of duty and deceit.
Logan nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. There was an intensity there, a quiet determination that made your pulse quicken. His gaze flickered from your eyes down to your lips as they parted, and the faintest smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as though he were allowing himself, for the first time, to believe that there could be more between you than obligation.Â
"Thatâs all Iâm asking for," he murmured, his voice low and rough. His hand fell away from your cheek, lingering in the space between you as if he wasnât quite ready to let go entirely.
The silence seemed to thrum with possibilities, the air thick with an unspoken question that neither of you dared to voice. You were close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, to see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyesâthe same uncertainty that you felt rising within you.Â
The memory of your first kiss drifted to the forefront of your mind: a soft, quick exchange during the wedding ceremony, one that had felt more like a formality than a true connection. This time, though, would it feel different? Would it feel real, tangible? The air itself was urging you to close the gap, to explore what lay beyond the roles you had both been playing.
Just as you took a breath as if to bridge the final inches, a soft voice interrupted the charged stillness. "Am I interrupting something?"
You and Logan sprang apart, the moment shattering like glass. Your head snapped toward the doorway where your father stood, his frame leaning slightly against the doorframe for support. His color was better, his cheeks no longer pale and hollow, and there was a hint of mischief in his eyes as they flicked between you and Logan. It was the most life you had seen in him since your arrival, and despite the awkwardness of the moment, a wave of relief washed over you.
"Papa," you said, your voice coming out higher than intended as you quickly brushed a hand over your hair, as if smoothing away any trace of what had almost happened. "I didnât realize you were awake."
"I woke a short while ago," he replied, a slight grin tugging at his lips. "Though I can see Iâve walked in at a⊠delicate moment." He shifted his gaze to Logan, giving him a nod that was both acknowledging and appraising. "I suppose I should thank you, Lord Howlett, for keeping my daughter company while I recovered. I understand it must be rather difficult, managing a wife as stubborn as she is." His tone was light, teasing, but there was a glint of approval in his eyes that hadnât been there before.
Logan dipped his head in a slight bow. "It is an honor, sir," he replied, his voice soft. "And I would say itâs rather a privilege to have a wife with such spirit. It keeps a man on his toes."
Your father chuckled softly, his laughter a welcome sound in the room. "Well spoken, my boy. Well-spoken." He glanced at you, his gaze warm with affection. "And you, my dearâyou look as though you havenât slept in days. You mustnât worry so much over an old man like me. Iâm feeling quite a bit better now, thanks to your constant vigilance." His voice softened. "I could hear you, you know⊠sitting by my bed, speaking to me even when I couldnât respond."
A knot formed in your throat, and you quickly turned your head away, blinking back the sudden prick of tears. "I only did what any daughter would do," you murmured, the words catching slightly as you tried to compose yourself. "Iâm just relieved youâre on the mend."
"Indeed I am," he said with a faint smile. "And I will continue to be, especially if I can trust that youâll both refrain from causing a scandal in the middle of my convalescence." His gaze drifted pointedly back to Logan, a hint of fatherly protectiveness in his tone.
Logan met his eyes with a quiet assurance. "You neednât worry, sir. I intend to take care of her," he said, his voice steady, but then he glanced toward you, the corner of his mouth curling up. "If sheâll allow me to."
There was something in his expression, something earnest and unguarded that sent a flutter through your chest. You felt a blush creep up your cheeks and quickly turned back to your father. "You should rest more," you said, avoiding Loganâs gaze as you walked into the room, busying yourself with adjusting your fatherâs pillows. "Youâre still recovering, and I donât want you overexerting yourself."
Your father gave you a knowing smile, then settled back into the bed with a sigh. "I suppose youâre right, my dear. But I expect to be up and about soon. And perhapsâŠ" he glanced meaningfully between you and Logan, "if all goes well, I shall see some progress between the two of you by then."
"Father," you chided, though the blush on your cheeks deepened.
Logan only smiled, his eyes meeting yours with a quiet promise. "I think thatâs a fair expectation, sir," he said, his voice softening as he held your gaze a moment longer than necessary.
You turned to leave the room and the feeling of his eyes on you lingered like a gentle warmth, as though the moment you had shared wasnât entirely lostâjust postponed, waiting to be resumed in the stillness of a future yet to be written.
ââââàšà§ââââ
It felt oddly intimate, sitting outside for afternoon tea with the whole family, including Logan. The air was warm, softened by a gentle breeze that stirred the leaves of the nearby oak tree and rustled the delicate lace on your sleeves. You were seated at the white metal table beneath the shade of a parasol, idly fanning yourself as you watched the scene unfolding on the lawn.
Your father, who had recovered remarkably well, stood with his cane in hand, his posture straighter than it had been in weeks. Beside him was Logan, who looked unusually relaxed in his shirtsleeves, his coat draped over the back of a nearby chair. They were both attempting to teach your youngest sister the finer points of pallmall, though judging by her shrieks of laughter and exaggerated swings, it was clear she was more interested in chaos than in any true mastery of the game.
Your father pointed toward the wooden ball with his cane, giving some encouragement, while Logan crouched down to demonstrate the correct stance, his deep voice carrying across the garden.Â
You could see the way your sister's eyes sparkled as she looked at him, her cheeks flushed with excitement. There was a natural ease to Loganâs movements, a gentleness in his manner that you had not always seen. It stirred something unfamiliar and unsettling in you.
"He is rather easy on the eyes, isnât he?"
You blinked and turned sharply toward your mother, who sat beside you, a faint smile curling at the corners of her lips.
"Oh, please, do not speak about Father that way," you quipped, rolling your eyes. But when you saw the mischievous arch of your motherâs brow, you realized with a jolt that she had not been referring to your father at all. "Mama!" you hissed, heat rising to your cheeks.
"What?" She gave an innocent shrug, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. "I may be an old woman, but I am not blind. And youâd do well to notice the way he looks at you." She glanced pointedly in Loganâs direction, and when you followed her gaze, you caught him watching you, his expression softening as your eyes met.
Quickly, you turned your attention back to your teacup, lifting it to your lips to hide the sudden flutter in your chest. "Youâre imagining things, Mama," you murmured, keeping your tone dismissive, but there was no mistaking the warmth that crept into your voice.
"Am I?" your mother replied with a knowing smile. "Well, if I am, then perhaps I should get my eyes checked." She sipped her tea, her gaze lingering on Logan for a moment longer before turning to engage one of your sisters in conversation.
You chanced another glance across the lawn. Logan had returned to coaching your sister, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder as he corrected her stance. His hair fell untidily over his forehead, the sunlight catching in the strands, and there was an easy grace to him that seemed to draw you in against your will. It was as if you were seeing him anew. Someone who had begun to carve out a space in your thoughts, even when you hadnât wanted him to.
As the game concluded and your sister raced off in pursuit of a butterfly, Logan strolled back toward the table, his gaze finding yours as if pulled there by some unseen force. He stopped beside your chair, a playful glint in his eye. "Would you care to join the game?" he asked, his tone light. "Your sister claims she is now the undisputed champion and says you would be no match for her."
You couldnât help but smile at that. "Is that so?" you replied, arching a brow. "And did you encourage this confidence of hers, my lord?"
"Only a little," he admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a faint smile. "But I believe itâs warranted. She has quite the swing."
"Then perhaps I ought to prove her wrong," you said, setting your teacup aside and rising from your chair. There was a flutter of anticipation in your chest as you stepped onto the lawn, and Logan offered you his arm, which you accepted, feeling a jolt of warmth spread from the point of contact. It was a small, ordinary gesture, yet it seemed to speak volumesâan unspoken acknowledgment that something was shifting between you.
He guided you to where the mallet lay on the grass, his hand lingering at the small of your back for just a moment. "Shall I show you the proper stance, or do you already consider yourself an expert?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge.
You couldnât resist the faint smile that tugged at your lips. "I think I can manage," you said, taking up the mallet and positioning yourself with as much grace as you could muster. But as you prepared to take the swing, you felt Logan step closer, his presence a comforting heat at your back.
"Here," he murmured, reaching around you to adjust your grip. His hand closed over yours, his touch firm but gentle, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your temple. "Youâll get a better aim if you angle the mallet just slightlyâŠ" His voice trailed off as his gaze met yours, his eyes dark and intent, as though he had forgotten entirely about pallmall.
You held your breath, aware of the inches that separated youâof how easy it would be to turn, to close that distance, to see if his lips were as warm and steady as his hands. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you wondered if he felt it too. If he, too, was resisting the pull.
Just as you were about to speak, to say somethingâanythingâyour sister called out from across the lawn, breaking the spell. The moment shattered, and you quickly stepped forward, your cheeks warm with something that felt dangerously close to longing.
"Thank you," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "For the⊠instruction."
Loganâs lips curved in a faint smile, though there was a hint of something unspoken in his eyes as he stepped back. "Anytime," he replied, his tone gentle. "Though I think you hardly needed my help."
You turned away as your pulse quickened. You looked back toward the table where your mother sat, her expression unreadable, and you couldnât help but feel as though something definitely between you and Logan had shifted, even if you werenât quite sure what it was.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The journey back to Howlett Manor was marked by a heavy, simmering silence. The wheels of the carriage rumbled over the uneven road, but it did little to distract you from the charged tension that hung between you and Logan.Â
He had spoken only a few words since leaving Langley House, his voice low and hesitant, while you had responded with polite nods, unwilling to break the quiet. It was as if something taut and brittle was between you, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
When the carriage finally rolled to a halt, you glanced out the window and saw Lady Elizabeth waiting on the manor steps, her expression as sharp as a blade. She stood rigidly, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the carriage. The sight of her sent a chill through you, and even before she spoke, you could sense the confrontation that awaited.
Logan let out a weary sigh, his hand already on the door handle. "Stay here," he murmured, his tone edged with frustration. "Iâll deal with her."
But you were already reaching for the door, refusing to remain hidden like some guilty secret. "I will not," you said, your voice firm as you stepped out into the cool evening air.Â
The weight of his gaze was palpable as you moved past him, and you heard him mutter under his breath, a resigned, "Of course, you wouldnât."
Lady Elizabeth descended the steps as you approached, her dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. There was no warmth in her expressionâonly a cold, calculated disdain that spoke volumes before she even opened her mouth.Â
"So," she said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade, "youâve come back. And after the disgraceful way you left, no less." Her gaze flicked to Logan, as though seeking confirmation of your audacity. "I expect an apology, from both of you."
Logan's jaw tightened as he stepped beside you, his voice low and steady. "An apology?" he echoed, his brow furrowing. "For what, exactly?"
"For trying to bring scandal upon this family," Lady Elizabeth snapped, her eyes flashing as she turned her glare fully on you. "Leaving without a word, abandoning your duties as my son's wife. It was irresponsible, childishâ"
"Enough," Logan interrupted, his tone sharp and edged with something you hadnât heard beforeâa warning. He took a step forward, positioning himself slightly in front of you, as though shielding you from his motherâs words. "This is not her fault."
Lady Elizabethâs mouth tightened into a thin line. "She left this manor in a fit of temper, and I will not stand by and have my family's reputation dragged through the mud by someâ"
"She left because of the lies," Logan cut in, his voice rising. "Because of your lies." His eyes darkened, and he held his motherâs gaze without flinching. "She knows, Mother. About me. About the truth of my birth."
The silence that followed was like the calm before a storm, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of somethingâfear, perhaps, or angerâin Lady Elizabeth's eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced by a cold, imperious stare. "And did you think it was wise to reveal such a thing?" she spat, her tone laced with venom. "To her?" Her gaze darted to you, filled with contempt. "What does she know of the sacrifices that were made to keep this familyâs legacy intact?"
Your heart pounded in your chest, a surge of indignation rising in you. "I know that whatever sacrifices were made, they were not mine to make," you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and defiance. "I was used as a pawn in a game I didnât even know I was playing."
Lady Elizabethâs lips curled into a sneer. "A pawn, indeed. It is you who stands to gain from this marriage, my dear. Or did you think your family's situation was not known to us?"
Logan took another step forward, his hand clenching at his side. "Thatâs enough," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I wonât let you speak to her like that."
His motherâs eyes widened, a flicker of shock breaking through her composure. "You would take her side over mine?" she asked, incredulity dripping from each word. "I did what was necessary to secure your future, to ensure that you would not be cast aside. Now you turn on me for the sake ofâ"
"Leave," Logan said abruptly, his voice hardening to steel. "Leave now, before you say something you cannot take back."
For a moment, it seemed as though she might argue, but then she straightened, drawing herself up with all the dignity she could muster. "Very well," she said icily, her gaze flicking to you one last time, as though etching you into her memory with distaste. "But do not think this matter is settled." She turned sharply on her heel and strode back up the steps, disappearing into the manor with a swish of her skirts, leaving a chill in her wake.
The silence descended once more, you let out a breath. The encounter had left you shaken, and yet⊠there was a strange sense of relief, too. You glanced at Logan, who was still standing rigidly, his eyes fixed on the place where his mother had just vanished. There was a tightness in his jaw, an unspoken conflict that lingered in the lines of his face.
"You didnât have to do that," you said quietly, your voice softening. "Sheâs your mother."
He shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable. "That doesnât give her the right to speak to you that way," he murmured, his gaze finally shifting to meet yours. There was a flicker of something in his eyesâlike longing, or perhaps relief, as though in defending you, he had also taken a step toward freeing himself from his motherâs expectations. "I promised to be honest with you," he continued. "And I meant it. Whatever else happens, I will not let her dictate our lives."
You felt a rush of warmth, not just from his words but from the quiet intensity with which he spoke them. It wasnât just a defense; it was a declarationâa small but significant act of loyalty that stirred something deep within you. You took a step closer, your fingers brushing against his hand in a tentative gesture of gratitude, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.
The silence stretched between you, almost as a shared understandingâa bond that had begun to form amid secrets and betrayals, and was slowly becoming something more solid. Loganâs fingers curled around yours, and the touch felt like a promise in itself.
"Come," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "Letâs go inside.â
You nodded, allowing him to lead you back into the manor, your hand still clasped in his. As you crossed the threshold together, you couldnât help but feel that, despite everything, there was a glimmer of hope despite the uncertainty of the future.
Later that night, you found yourself pacing the length of your chamber, your footsteps muffled by the thick rug beneath your bare feet.Â
Sleep had become a rare visitor since the wedding; Howlett Manor held a kind of darkness that seemed to linger in the very walls, keeping you on edge. The vast, silent corridors, the draughts that whispered through the halls, the way the night settled heavily over the estate. It was as though the manor itself was unsettled, restless, and it had passed that restlessness on to you.
Then there were the sounds. Soft, distant groaning that seemed to rise and fall on the air. You had dismissed it before, convincing yourself it was nothing more than the old bones of the house shifting or the wind rattling the shutters. But tonight, as you stood in the shadows of your room, the sound came again, louder this time, and unmistakably human. It clawed at your nerves, tugging at your curiosity and, despite the unease prickling along your spine, you felt compelled to find out whatâor whoâwas behind it.
Drawing in a breath to steady yourself, you reached for the door handle and slipped out into the dimly lit corridor. The candles along the walls flickered as you passed, casting long, wavering shadows that danced on the stone. You followed the noise, the low groaning growing clearer, guiding you down the hallway and toward one of the rooms.
As you drew closer, the sound sharpened into muffled cries, pained and desperate. You hesitated at the door, your hand hovering over the handle. It was Loganâs voice, unmistakable even in its anguish. A shudder ran through you as you pressed your ear to the wood, your pulse quickening. Was he hurt? Was someone in there with him?
You turned the handle and pushed the door open gently, peering into the darkness of the room. Logan lay sprawled on the bed, the sheets twisted around his limbs, his chest rising and falling rapidly as though he were struggling for breath. His face was contorted in agony, beads of sweat glistening on his brow. The groans came again, low and tortured, escaping his lips as he writhed in the grip of some unseen terror.
Without thinking, you hurried to his side, your heart pounding. "Logan," you whispered, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Logan, wake up. Itâs just a dreamâ"
The moment your fingers brushed against his skin, his eyes flew open, wide and unfocused. Before you could react, his hand shot out, grasping your wrist in a vice-like grip and yanking you closer. The suddenness of the movement sent you stumbling forward, and you cried out as his other arm came around, knocking you off balance. You fell against the bed, your wrist pinned painfully beneath his hand.
"Logan, stop!" you gasped, your voice high and trembling. "Itâs meâ"
His eyes were wild, unseeing, and for a terrifying moment, you werenât sure he recognized you at all. His grip tightened, and you winced, a sharp pain shooting through your wrist. But then his gaze seemed to clear, the dark confusion lifting as he blinked and released you as though burned.
The room fell into a tense silence as you pulled your arm back, rubbing your sore wrist and staring at him, your breath coming fast. Logan's eyes widened with horror as he took in the scene, his chest still heaving with the remnants of his nightmare.Â
"IâI didnât mean toâ" His voice cracked, and he sat up abruptly, his hand trembling as he reached toward you. "Are you all right?"
You nodded shakily, though your heart still raced. "Iâm fine," you said, though your voice came out quieter than you intended. "Itâs just⊠you were having a nightmare. I tried to wake you, but youâŠ" You swallowed, the words trailing off as you looked down at your wrist, where faint red marks were already starting to form.
His gaze followed yours, and his expression crumpled with guilt. "God, Iâm sorry," he whispered, his voice rough with shame. "IâI've never meant to hurt you. I didnât even know it was you. I thoughtâ" He broke off, running a hand through his disheveled hair, his fingers tangling in the damp strands. "I thought I was still⊠there."
You hesitated, the pain in your wrist already ebbing, replaced by a different kind of acheâone that came from seeing the despair in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped as though he carried the weight of a lifetimeâs worth of regrets. "Still where?" you asked softly, your gaze searching his face. "Logan, what did you dream about?"
He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he stared down at his hands, which lay open in his lap as though he were afraid of what they might do. "I have the same nightmare every night," he admitted, his voice low and unsteady. "Itâs always the same. I see my father⊠the man who raised me. Heâs lying there, lifeless, and itâs my fault. Iâm the one whoâŠ" His voice broke, and he looked away, his breath shuddering. "Iâm the one who killed him."
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You stared at him, your pulse thrumming in your ears as the full weight of his confession settled over you. "LoganâŠ" you breathed, not knowing what else to say. There was a rawness in his voice that tore at you, a grief and self-loathing that seemed to spill out in waves. You found yourself reaching for him, hesitantly resting your hand on his arm, your touch light and tentative.
"He died years ago," Logan continued his voice barely above a whisper. "It was an accident, but⊠I was there. I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it." He let out a harsh, bitter laugh that made your heart clench. "I suppose thatâs why the nightmares wonât leave. They remind me of what I could never make right."
You tightened your grip on his arm, drawing his gaze back to yours. "It wasnât your fault," you said gently, the words spilling out even though you knew they might not bring him any comfort. "You canât blame yourself for something you couldnât control."
His eyes searched yours, a flicker of something glinting in the depths. "You shouldnât be here," he said quietly, though he made no move to pull away from you. "You should have left me to my demons. Itâs safer that way."
"Perhaps," you replied, your voice barely more than a breath as you looked down at where your hand rested on his arm. "But if I left, who would keep you from them?"
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, without fully understanding why, you leaned in closer, your touch sliding from his arm to his hand, your fingers threading through his. The silence between you was heavy. It was as though you were sharing the same breath, the same pain. Somehow, that made it a little more bearable for him.
Loganâs hand tightened around yours, and when he exhaled, it was as though some of the weight had lifted from his chest. "Stay," he murmured, his voice roughened by exhaustion. "Just for tonight."
You nodded, not trusting your voice to speak. As you settled back against the pillows, Logan lay down beside you, his body still tense but his grip on your hand unwavering. The darkness seemed to close in around you both, but this time, it felt less like a threat and more like a shared refuge.
Eventually, the rhythm of his breathing steadied, and you felt yourself slipping into sleep, lulled by the quiet comfort of his presence.
When the early morning light peeked through the curtains, its soft glow casting pale golden streaks across the bed, you were certain you were alone. The events of last night already seemed like a distant dreamâthe nightmare, Loganâs confession, the way you had fallen asleep side by side. The sheets felt cool where you lay, and for a moment, you wondered if he had left before dawn, quietly slipping away to avoid the awkwardness of the morning after.
You let out a small sigh and reached out tentatively, your hand roaming across the mattress, half-expecting to find only the emptiness where he had been. But then, your fingertips brushed against something warm. Your eyelids fluttered open, and you turned your head to see Logan lying there, his back to you, balanced precariously near the edge of the bed as if he had tried to keep as much distance between you as possible. It was almost comicalâthis broad-shouldered man, practically dangling off the side, as though the mere thought of sharing space with you was a dangerous line he dared not cross.
A small, unbidden smile tugged at your lips as you took in the sight. It was⊠endearing, in a way, how he seemed so out of place there, awkwardly trying to respect a boundary that neither of you had defined. The tension of the night had faded into something softer and sweet. You hadnât meant to wake him, but you couldnât help itâthe sight of him like this, so different from his usual composed self, made you want to tease him, just a little.
"Are you planning on falling out of the bed, or are you just trying to escape?" you whispered, your voice still husky with sleep.
Logan stirred, a faint groan escaping him as he rolled over slowly, blinking against the morning light. His hair was tousled, falling into his eyes, and there was a faint crease on his cheek where it had pressed against the pillow. He looked at you, still half-asleep, and it took a moment for your words to register. Then a sheepish smile curved his lips, and he rubbed a hand over his face.
"I didnât want to crowd you," he murmured, his voice rough and low. "You were asleep, and I⊠wasnât sure if youâdâŠ" He trailed off, his cheeks coloring slightly as if realizing how ridiculous he must have looked, hanging onto the edge for dear life.
A small laugh bubbled out of you, the sound light and unexpected. "I think the bed is big enough for the both of us," you teased gently, unable to hide the warmth in your tone. "You didnât have to keep such a dramatic distance."
Loganâs smile grew, a flicker of amusement in his eyes now. "Well, I didnât want you to wake up and think Iâd taken advantage of your kindness," he said, his tone softening. "I didnât want to⊠presume."
The sincerity in his voice made your heart squeeze, and for a moment, the awkwardness settled into something that made your pulse quicken. You hadnât even realized until now just how much his presence comforted you, how safe you had felt lying beside him last night. The realization came with a rush of something warm and unfamiliar, and it took you by surprise.
"Well," you said, your gaze drifting to where his hand rested on the sheets between you, "if youâre so worried about my comfort, perhaps next time you can stay closer⊠so you donât fall off the bed." The words left your lips before you could fully think them through, and as they hung in the air, you felt a blush creep up your neck, your cheeks warming with the boldness of your suggestion.
Loganâs eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and something like hope shimmering in their depths. He glanced down at your hand, which had somehow drifted closer to his, and a crooked, endearing smile touched his lips. "Next time?" he repeated, his voice laced with a hint of playful curiosity. "So youâre already planning on sharing a bed with me again?"
You bit your lip, a nervous laugh escaping as you quickly shook your head. "Thatâs not what I meant," you stammered, though the smile pulling at your mouth betrayed you. "I justâwell, I meant if⊠circumstances were to, you know⊠happen again." The words felt clumsy and inadequate, but there was no taking them back now.
Logan chuckled softly, his gaze warm and lingering on your face. "I see," he said, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. "If circumstances⊠happen."
You nodded, feeling a sudden wave of self-consciousness wash over you. The room seemed too bright, too intimate in the morning light, and you reached for the edge of the blanket, pulling it higher as if it could shield you from the vulnerability of the moment. Logan cleared his throat, the sound breaking the silence in a way that felt almost painfully loud.
"I should⊠I have matters to attend to with my mother," he said, his voice sounding rougher than usual. "Iâm positive sheâs still fuming." There was a faint hint of a wry smile on his lips, though it didnât quite reach his eyes.
You nodded again, quickly, unsure if you could trust your voice not to betray the odd mixture of emotions swirling inside you. Relief, embarrassment, something like disappointmentâit all tangled together, making it hard to breathe. Logan took your silence as agreement and turned away, slipping out of the bed with a fluid, quiet movement.
You found yourself glancing over at him before you could stop yourself, and then quickly averted your gaze when you noticed the way his nightshirt clung to his back, the fabric outlining the curve of his shoulders and the lean muscles beneath. You swallowed hard, focusing intently on a spot on the floor, as though it were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.
Loganâs bare feet padded softly on the rug as he gathered his clothes, his movements quick but not hurried, as if he too was acutely aware of the lingering awkwardness in the air. "I⊠Iâll see you later," he said, his voice low and hesitant, as though he were testing the words before letting them go.
"Yes," you managed to reply, though your voice came out softer than you intended. "Later."
For a brief moment, he hesitated at the door, his hand resting on the frame as if considering saying something more. But then, with a small nod, he slipped out, the door clicking shut behind him.
You exhaled slowly, sinking back into the pillows, the blanket still pulled up close. The room seemed larger now, emptier, and you couldnât help but wonder if he had felt the same pull that you hadâthe subtle, magnetic pull that had lingered in the space between you. You pushed the thought away, telling yourself that it was foolish to read too much into a moment shared in the quiet hours of dawn.
ââââàšà§ââââ
The better part of the day had passed in the garden, where the air was thick with the scent of blooming roses and the gentle hum of bees. You had retreated there after hearing the heated voices echoing up from downstairs. Lady Elizabethâs clipped tones and Loganâs frustrated replies had risen in a crescendo that spilled into the halls, making it clear that whatever rift lay between them was far from being mended.Â
It seemed wise to keep your distance, and so you had found a book, tucked yourself into a quiet corner at the far edge of the garden, and tried to lose yourself in the pages while the murmur of nature surrounded you.
The stone bench beneath you was warmed by the sun, and though you kept your eyes trained on the book in your lap, the words seemed to blur together. You had long since given up on following the plot, your thoughts drifting back to the night beforeâLoganâs haunted confession, the way he had looked at you as if you were the only thing grounding him in the present. The memory of it lingered, unbidden, in the back of your mind, filling you with a confusing mix of tenderness and doubt.
The crunch of footsteps on the gravel path drew your attention, and you glanced up to see Logan approaching. His expression, which had been set in a firm line, softened as his gaze met yours. He looked weary, as though whatever argument he had just endured had drained him of energy, yet there was also a quiet determination in the way he carried himself, his shoulders squared despite the tension in his jaw.
"May I join you?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of hesitation, as though he were uncertain of his welcome.
You closed the book gently, offering a small nod. "Of course," you said, shifting slightly to make room for him on the bench. "How⊠how did it go with your mother?"
He sank beside you, his sigh barely audible but weighted with frustration. "As well as can be expected," he replied, running a hand through his hair. "Which is to say, not well at all." He paused, glancing at the neatly trimmed hedges and the flowers that swayed in the breeze. "But I've made a decision." His tone softened, and he turned to look at you. "My mother will be moving out of Howlett Manor."
The statement took you by surprise, and you blinked, unsure if you had heard him correctly. "Sheâs leaving?"
Logan nodded, his gaze steady. "Yes. I think⊠itâs for the best. Itâs become clear that we cannot live under the same roof without tearing each other apart." He hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly on his knee as though he were working up the nerve to say something more. "With her gone, there will be⊠a lot of space in the manor. I was thinking⊠if youâd like, your family could move in. The Langleys could make this place their home too."
The offer hung in the air between you, carrying with it the weight of an unspoken promise. For a moment, you didnât know what to say, your thoughts tangling in your mind. "Thatâs⊠kind of you to suggest," you began slowly, your gaze falling to your hands. "But our marriage⊠things are still so uncertain." You swallowed your throat tight with the admission. "I donât know if we should be making decisions like this when we donât even know what the future holds for us."
Logan's hand reached for yours, his touch gentle yet firm. "I know things are uncertain," he said quietly, his voice raw with sincerity. "But Iâm willing to do whatever it takes to make this marriage realâto make us real." His thumb brushed over your knuckles, sending a shiver through you. "I like you. I like the way you challenge me, the way you look at me as though Iâm worth trying for. I want this to work, not because we have to, but because I choose to."
His words seemed to reach inside you, stirring something that had been long dormantâsomething warm and fragile that blossomed with each passing second. You looked up at him, your heart racing, your breath caught somewhere between hope and fear. "You⊠you mean that?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Youâd choose this, even ifâ"
"I would," he interrupted softly, his other hand reaching to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light, as though he were afraid to break whatever spell lay between you. "If youâll let me."
The moment stretched out, the world around you fading into the background until there was only him, his gaze locked on yours, his breath mingling with the warm air. You leaned in, almost without thinking, your eyes fluttering shut as your lips met his, tentative and searching. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush that sent a tremor through you, but as he deepened it, a quiet urgency arose, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck to pull you closer.
The world seemed to tilt, and when you finally pulled back, breathless, you saw a light in Loganâs eyes that you had never seen beforeâa mixture of relief, hope, and tenderness. That set your heart racing all over again.
"You kissed me back," he murmured, a hint of wonder in his voice as his thumb traced your cheek.
"I suppose I did," you replied, a shy smile tugging at your lips as you felt the warmth of his hand still against your skin. "It seems Iâve made my choice too."
He leaned his forehead against yours, his breath still slightly uneven. "Then letâs make this work," he whispered, the words like a promise carried on the breeze. "Together."
ââââàšà§ââââ
The morning sun spilled through the tall windows of the nursery, casting a golden light over the pale blue walls and the delicate lace curtains that swayed ever so slightly with the summer breeze. The room was filled with the soft sounds of cooing and gentle rocking, and you sat in the cushioned chair near the window, cradling your newborn daughter in your arms. Her tiny fingers curled around your thumb, and you marveled at how something so small could hold your entire heart within her grasp.
The past year had swept by like a dream, and Howlett Manor had become a place of life and laughter in ways you hadnât imagined when you first arrived. The once lonely halls were now filled with warmth, with family, and with a love that had grown slowly, steadily, and then all at once.
Logan appeared in the doorway, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a streak of dirt smudged on his cheek, evidence of whatever task had drawn him outside earlier. His eyes softened when he saw you, his gaze drifting down to the baby nestled in your arms. "Sheâs awake," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet wonder that had not diminished since the day she was born.
You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection as you noticed the way he lingered in the doorway, as though hesitant to disturb the peacefulness of the moment. "Come here," you whispered, tilting your head in invitation. "Sheâll be glad to see her father."
He crossed the room in a few strides, his movements careful as though he were still getting used to the idea of this tiny new life you had brought into the world together. As he reached out to take her from you, his fingers brushed against yours, and you shared a quiet smile. The love between you had become something tangible, something that seemed to shimmer in the air every time your eyes met.
Logan cradled his daughter with a tenderness that belied his strong, rugged exterior. She blinked up at him, her wide eyes reflecting the light as she reached for his nose, her tiny hand waving in the air. "There you are, little one," he murmured, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur that was only for her. "Youâre going to be causing all sorts of trouble before we know it, arenât you?"
You laughed softly, leaning your head back against the chair as you watched them together. "If sheâs anything like her father, sheâll be climbing out of windows and sneaking into the stables before she can even walk," you teased.
He glanced at you, his mouth curving into a playful smile. "And if sheâs anything like her mother," he countered, "sheâll have a stubborn streak a mile wide and wonât take no for an answer."
The joy in his eyes was undeniable, and it was a joy that had become commonplace at Howlett Manor. The changes were everywhereâin the lively dinners shared around the long oak table, where your father told stories that made your mother laugh like a young girl again; in the afternoons when your sisters played with the dogs in the garden, their laughter carrying on the wind. The Langleys had made the manor their home, and though the arrangement had been born out of necessity, it had grown into something far richerâa tapestry of shared lives and everyday happiness.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and your mother appeared at the door, a fond smile on her face as she saw the three of you together. "There you are," she said warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "We were wondering if you planned to join us for the midday meal, or if we should come to you."
"Weâll be down shortly," you replied, glancing at Logan as he swayed gently, his daughterâs eyelids beginning to droop once more. "It seems someone is already ready for her nap, though."
Your motherâs gaze softened as she watched Logan rock the baby in his arms, a look of deep contentment on her face. "Sheâll be a strong one," she said quietly, her voice laced with pride. "Just like her parents."
Logan met your eyes, a shared understanding passing between you as your mother slipped back out of the room. You rose from the chair, moving to stand beside him, and as you laid a hand on his arm, he turned slightly to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as though he couldnât quite pull away.
"I think life has turned out better than either of us could have imagined," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.
You tilted your head up, your gaze finding his. "I think we made it that way," you said, a quiet pride in your voice. "Together."
The words hung in the air for a moment, a reminder of the path you had walked to get hereâof the uncertainty, the struggles, and the slow, steady growth of love that had bloomed between you. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a tender kiss that spoke of more than just affection; it was a promise, a celebration, and an unspoken agreement that thisâall of thisâwas just the beginning.
As you drew back, the baby stirred in Loganâs arms, letting out a tiny whimper that brought a smile to both of your faces. "Come on," he said, his voice soft and full of love. "Letâs go downstairs. Your family is waiting."
Together, you walked down the grand staircase, the sunlight streaming in through the windows, bathing the manor in a warm, golden light. The sound of familiar voices drifted up from the dining room, filling the air with the cheerful bustle of family life.
As you reached the bottom of the stairs, your daughter nestled safely in her fatherâs arms, you couldnât help but feel that this lifeâso full of love, laughter, and even its small imperfectionsâwas exactly where you were meant to be.
#logan howlett#wolverine#logan howlett x you#x men logan#x men wolverine#logan x reader#james logan howlett#lord james logan howlett#logan howlett angst#slight angst#regency#hugh jackman#angst#forced marriage#james howlett#brooding#angst and feels#angst and tragedy#angst and fluff#hugh jackson#ao3 fanfic#fanfic#bridgerton inspired#kate and leopold#wolverine x reader#angst with a happy ending#oneshot#logan howlett fic#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett fanfiction
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Workshop Fun
Summary: This is a short one-shot (7021 words) where the Reader (female) has an established relationship with Art the Clown, and has been kiiiind of collaborating with him passively. Reader is wearing a dress for the sole purpose of easy access. Reader has a vulva and breasts.Â
Contents: Biting, light spanking, ...phone... sex? Having an unknowing participant on the other line is the only way I can word it, light spanking, lots of making out, clothed sex, BDSM, Art being cruel, p in v penetration, finger sucking and light body worship
Authorâs notes: Sorry what took me so long to do this, Iâve been sitting on this for years! Male version will be out in a few days. This is LIGHTLY proofread, so keep your expectations at a level where you wonât be surprised if thereâs any mistakes. Also once again I am an Art the Clown front zipper truther for my clothed sex kink.
ââââââââââââââââââ   Â
You loved him.
Did he kill people? Yes. Did he sometimes allude to killing you as well? Absolutely. Has he acted on it yet? Not fully, but you could tell that sometimes he had that compulsion to go through with it, when heâd get that twinkle in his eye.
 Especially when you were up close and personal with him, your bodies merely inches apart, sometimes with him even holding a weapon in hand. Heâs a wild animal. A force of evil locked away in the confines of a corporeal body made of flesh and bone.
And yet, all the same, you loved him. The way that his hands would travel across your flesh and explore the parts of you that you never let anyone else. Sometimes heâd leave bruises, other times scratches. Then there were the bite marks. Each intimate encounter would leave you in a different state of mess. He was the lover who was like a cat. One day heâd be here, gone the next. You couldnât put a thumb on the patterns.
The waits were long, but youâre loyal, and youâre patient. You didnât really have much of a choice in the matter. Youâd wait until the ends of the earth for him. Sometimes during the months that he wasnât here, youâd dream of him. All of these little fantasies youâd have in your head would sometimes come to visit you behind your closed lids, where reality had no limitations. It would make the ache feel less. Every time that heâd come back, you made sure to find him as quickly as possible the second you heard whisperings pertaining to sightings of him, or any kind of crime scene that felt like it had his signature on it. Sometimes heâd find you first.
Art wasnât someone who was very materialistic. And money meant next to nothing to Artâthe personification of evil had very little need for the vast kinds of desires that plagued man.
But he wasnât necessarily immune to the pleasures of the flesh, you learned. Despite how for the most part, he remained heavily uninterested in intimacy, he had a few moments here and there, and you capitalized on them when you could. You had a feeling tonight would be one of those nights.
Or, well, you hoped.
Worst case scenario heâd turn you away or ignore any advances, and he has a few times. And that was okay.
You came into his hideout tonight with confidence instilled in you, but yet the excitement still makes your stomach do flips. Itâs been too long, and the fire within your chest is reignited. You feel passion, you feel love so strong that itâs enough to keep you up at night, and it has happened plenty of times before. You wonder if heâs got some sort of spell over you, and youâd believe it if that were the case. Youâve never fallen so madly, deeply, for anyone before like you have him. It could be enough to make you physically ill if you thought about how much you loved him. Such a passion came with such a detriment to you.
Past the damaged doors of a since abandoned fairly abandoned warehouse, you have a smooth descent down the stairs, leading you to a type of basement setting. Thereâs plenty of water dripping. Rats squeaking as they chitter and skitter along. You catch glimpses of them in the dim lighting, but they donât bother you. As long as you didnât see a bunch of them with their tails tied together, you wager youâll be pretty okay.
You dressed up nicely for him tonight.
You werenât really a dress kind of person, but tonight you made it an exception. It wasnât fancy or over the top, and by the love of god, it had pockets. You refused to wear heels however, whatever shoes you had that worked and didnât give you the possibility of breaking your ankle down these flights of stairs was the option you went with. Art might have found it funny if you hurt yourself, but you arenât too keen on getting yourself dinged up before he gets the chance to do it himself.
The dress was about one thingâaccessibility. Easy to lift up, easy for him to slide in right where he belonged.
You loved when he was inside of you, when youâd feel the heat of his heavy breath against the back of your neck. You run your hands over the spot where you last remember feeling the warmth of his breath. You remember being beneath him and feeling as if the very heat that he quietly exhaled felt as if it were smoldering your skin, burning you like the way the flames of hell were supposed to. If being with this clown meant that youâd be burning in the afterlife, youâd gladly bathe yourself in the inferno.
Your stomach flutters.
You shouldnât be this excited. Heâs a murderer. A killer. A man with no morals, and youâre not even sure if he was a man sometimes at all. Yet, his darkness is what drew you in. He was your safe space, and no one would dare come into that space to try and harm you so long as you were in his arms.
When you reach the bottom of the steps, you see itâa single dangling light, and illuminating this dark space is a double door that is plainly rusted. You see a bloody handprint on it. Itâs since dried.
You recognize the size of that hand, and feel slightly lighter, just in the moment.
Placing your own hand in the exact space over Artâs bloodied print, you push the door open. The door is a little on the heavy side, but with enough force, the door opens.
âArt?â You call out, making sure that your presence is acknowledged as friendly and not hostile. The room is a little darkly lit, very heavy on the minimum lighting thatâs needed to navigate in the space. It most certainly added to the creepy ambiance. Straight ahead, there sat none other than Art. His back was given to you. He was sitting on a stool, hammering away at something on his workbench. He turns his head upon hearing his name, and you see that he gives you a smile, baring his rotted discolored teeth as his eyes are closed. You can see the wrinkles form a little in the corner of his eyes when he smiles.
You liked that. You liked the details etched into his face. It added character among those otherwise gaunt features of his.
âHey, buddy.â You call out to him, and he gives you a little wave, before gesturing for you to come closer.
You approach him, and once youâre near the bench with him, you can see when youâre close enough that he gives you a once over, assessing you⊠Judging you, for what it is youâre wearing tonight.
âLike it?â You ask him, twirling from side to side so that your dress splays out a little. Itâs simple. Gets the job done. And if it got ruined? No love loss.
Artâs gaze seems fixed on you, first on your dress, then up at you. For a man who doesnât speak, his eyes seem to say all that needs to be said, as he reaches for the end of your dress and starts to lift it, until you gently smack the top of his hand. Art draws his hand back to his side immediately, glancing up at you, looking a little like a kid that was chided.
Naughty of him, trying to get a sneak peek beforehand.
âNot yet,â You tell him.
Art looks a little irritated, folding his arms across his chest and pouting. At least he seems interested tonight.
You clear your throat, and Artâs attention is still locked on you. Heâs watching you expectantly.
âYouâve settled in quite nicely.â It was just yesterday you surveyed the area on his behalf, and helped him move in properly. Already on his workbench, he has got quite a few improvised weapons heâd been working on. Your eyes go to one weapon in particular, and you point at it.
âWhatâs that?â
Art turns to look at the weapon youâve pointed out, and when he lifts it to proudly show it, itâs exactly what it looked likeâan improvised flail. Attached to a long metal rod, is a long wire, and when your eyes follow to the end of the wire, you see wrapped around in such an intricate and meticulous way are a variety of knives, serving as what would be the âspikesâ. Youâre impressed. He even hands it to you, to which you take it. Itâs got a decent weight to it, too. Not too heavy, but not too light.
âWoah.â You say, as Art watches you, quite proud of how dazzled you are. Heâs an artist at heart, you knew this. The knives have some rust on them. One of them looks stained from a previous bloody encounter. Heâs clearly working with whatever heâs got on him.
âIf anyone survives this, they better pray they donât get tetanus.â You muse, and Artâs face twists in amusement in a silent laugh. You hand the weapon back to him, and he takes it once heâs done getting in a few silent chuckles at your joke, gently placing it back down on the table.
No one escapes Art with their soul still in their body. Literal or figurative. You were either dead, or you were burdened with his encounter your entire life, both physically and mentally.
You werenât any different. Your bruises and bites and scars have been out of love. One could argue that you got off easy, but youâd argue otherwise.
Being in love with the Miles County Clown is torture in and of itself. There were nonstop dreams that came with it. It seemed as if every other week heâd plague you in your sleep. Not to mention that you had to be extremely clever to not be caught under affiliation with himâwhich was even more stress. So far, though, so good.
Heâs worth it, you tell yourself. Even if he wasnât anymore, thereâs no way you could leave. Heâd kill you. And you have zero doubts that your death wouldn't be painless.
After a few seconds of silence, you sigh.
âI wish you didnât have to leave all the time.â You begin to tell him. Artâs expression is neutral, which isnât necessarily a bad thing. His teeth are bared, as they often are. Your tone isnât one of whining, but of yearning. You know that this came with the territory, and you readily accepted his lack of presence at any given time.
But it didnât hurt to dream. Art tilts his head, watching you from where he sits curiously.
âMaybe one day we can find some place that⊠Is ours. Separate from⊠This.â You gesture towards the weapons heâs making. Every so often he hides somewhere different to prepare for the trouble he intends to cause. âA place that maybe once youâre done for the day, we both can be in to unwind. And a permanent place for you that isnât just my apartment. But like. A place for you. For us.â
Taking him to your apartment kept getting riskier and riskier each time. Also, he made it quite clear he didnât really care for your decor. Giving him his own place to make his own that he could express himself would be ideal, and it wouldnât be like a place heâd have to abandon every year. He could actually have and keep stuff⊠If he wanted to even do that.
The more you think about it, the more youâre starting to think it sounds silly. You see the way that heâs looking at you, and he appears very stern. Sharp.
Your confidence begins to drop, and as youâre about to speak again, you stammer, before laughing nervously.
âYeah. Youâre right. Sorry, that was a silly ideaâany long term space we made for you would probably get found out eventually, too. Iââ
The stool screams as itâs slid across the ground, back towards the bench when he stands up. It sounded like one of his many victims. You go quiet as heâs hovering over you, and you swallow any words that you might have wanted to tell him.
The silence is heavy. His shoulders are rising and falling, and you feel your heartbeat in your ears.
Seconds tick by and they feel more like minutes, and you canât stand it any longer. You open your mouth to speak, but youâre swiftly cut off.
Art yanks you by the collar of your dress, and forces his lips against yours.
Your eyes are wide briefly in surprise, but they close as soon as you register whatâs happening, and you moan in the kiss. Artâs a bit of a sloppy kisser, but youâve come to love it. His taste was acrid as well, but you craved the bitterness at this point, no longer gagging like you used to. As he leans forward to kiss you harder, you put more of yourself in it as well, mixing his intensity with your passion and desire thatâs been left simmering for months.
Now itâs boiling over.
Art places both of his hands on either side of your face, and itâs like heâs trying to suffocate you with his kisses, barely giving you much time to breathe in between them. Youâre getting a little lightheaded.
He pulls away from your lips to kiss you a few times on the cheek, then nuzzling his face against yours. Almost like a cat.
It gives you the chance to catch your breath. His hands reach for yours, and you let him, feeling the way that his fingers interlace with your own. You look down at the way that your fingers intertwined with his dirtied and calloused ones. He was a man who worked with his handsâin more ways than one. Those same fingers belonged to the same hands that would worship you, tear and pull at you without ever breaking you completely in half. Sometimes itâd be close, but never fully. They would sometimes draw blood when the nails would sink into your flesh and leave behind crescent marks. Other times, those hands would strangle you, smack youâslap you, and bring a sting across your body that reminded you just how alive you were. Then those same hands would caress you. Cradle you.
Heâd cut you on a few occasions, but they were never lethal. And with every cut, his tongue followed.
You feel reverence. Especially as you press a kiss to the tip of his fingersâyou kiss each one, tenderly, making eye contact with him as you do so.
Art watches knowingly. He raises his head a little so that when he watches you, heâs looking down at you, all too aware of how you worship him. And he accepts it. But only from you. Just you. No one else.
After kissing each finger, from pinkie to thumb, you stop back at his index, soft lips pressed against the pad of it. His fingers were stained. Caked in whatever gore and dirt and grime heâd touched earlier.
Not that you cared, nor would you let it stop you. Youâre a freak. Not well in the head. Youâd lick any and all of his love off of the world's sharpest blade if thatâs the only way he gave it. If he wanted you to cut your tongue on it, you would.
Bringing his index finger to your mouth, you wrap your lips around it, and watch him. He tastes exactly how youâd expectâfoul and wretched. You catch the faintest hint of iron. A taste that youâve come to associate pleasantly with him. That part feels right.
Artâs gaze is fixed on you. You canât read his thoughts, and though he doesnât speak, you recognize what that look means. Even as he observes you, teeth bared subtly, head still held high, which he inclines just slightly as you take another finger in your mouthâhis middle one.
You suck his fingers lewdly, and close your eyes. You imagine itâs his cock, even though you know that his fingers canât compare to the real deal. You push your tongue through his index and middle as you take more of him in your mouth. Art watches your tongue work around him, until he decides to press down on the muscle, effectively stopping you.
You stare at him.
Seconds linger in silence, and he relinquishes pressure off of your tongue, letting you move it freely again.
And you do. You hold his hand and go back to kissing his fingers before fellating them. Index first. Then the middle. And finally the ring fingerâall three at once. The taste of iron is stronger. You sigh a gentle moan as you pull your head back and give him back his hand. You kiss at the tips of his fingers again. As youâre about to take his fingers a third time, he leans forward instead, his lips taking yours. You feel the way that he seizes both of your wrists as he floods your senses all over again, and you let him.
You try to say his name in between the kisses, but each time you get a breath between the barrage of affection that seems to practically swallow you whole, Art steals your voice with another passionate kiss. Again, his taste is bitter, his teeth are damn near rotten, but youâve gotten so accustomed to the flavor that it doesnât make you gag. It makes you feel only slightly sickly. But the arousal overrides any lingering discomfort.
Itâs disorienting. Itâs all so much at once. You feel your body temperature rise. Art gives you back one of your wrists, but in doing so, he places his hand at the small of your back and pulls you in against him, until thereâs no space left between you.
Thatâs when you feel it. You feel the heat of his erection pressed against your thighs. Youâve excited him enough, it being quite clear the effect your mouth had on him.
You smile, but his lips are back at yours again, and the taste of bitterness hits at the back of your tongueâthe most sensitive taste receptors lighting up and ripping any smugness you had straight out of you as you close your eyes and sigh softly. His tongue mingles with yours.
He begins to move, forcibly taking you with him as you change where youâre standing, so that heâs no longer the one whose back is facing the workbenchâitâs you. You feel the edge of the table bump against your ass. With your positions effectively switched, you donât mind at all, far too enraptured by the kisses of your clown lover.
This was pure bliss.
He pulls away from your lips, now kissing the corners of your mouth, then going to your jawline, until heâs at your neck, sucking and licking and nibbling, giving you goosebumps. You feel your nipples go hard. You close your eyes and moan softly.
This is the few times of the year that you get this. It was the time that youâd be peppered in kisses, ravaged, and torn asunder in such a way that it would take you almost the remaining however many days, months, or years until youâd see him again to put yourself back together.
âArtâŠâ You laugh a little when his lips tickle a part of your neck. He silences you again with his lips to yours. You feel the way that he nips at your tongue this time and draws a little blood. The endorphins from the pain gives you a pleasant buzz. He bites your bottom lower lip next, taking note of how heâs beginning to use his teeth more and more during this exchange, and you think about how heâs eaten the faces of his victims before.
You could be next.
He pulls away and kisses at the corners of your lips a second time. Heâs obsessed with using his mouth. Your eyes finally open, and you gently move your head back a bit, until Art finally stops, the both of you staring into each other's eyes. His teeth are bared all the same as they were before, but thereâs a sultry gaze youâre familiar with. Up this close, you can see the more subtle details of him.
Like his lashes, which otherwise, from a distance is obscured by the paint over his face.
How could someoneâor⊠Something, be so monstrous⊠Yet so⊠pretty? You could get lost in his gaze. You could drown in it. And he knows that. And he likes that power over you.
Your lips turn upwards into a soft smile, and you feel a desire pool at your groin. Itâs an undeniable throbbing in tune with your heartbeat. Nevermind that you can feel his own arousal against you. Heâs warmer than youâhe feels like heâs practically burning up, compared to you, and the body heat radiating from him only serves to make you hotter in turn. Right to the point where youâre developing a thin sheen of sweat across your brow.
âI love you.â
He watches you, and through his body language and eyes, you understand him through his reaction. You see a slow, smug smile appear on his face.
Very much an, I know. No sign of reciprocation. That would be too heavy of an ask from someone like him. But him being receptive to your love was a testament to how much he liked you.
Not that you expected anything less from a cold killer such as the Miles County Clown. The fact that he hasnât yet killed you throughout all these years speaks in a kind of love on its own, youâd think.
Maybe not the one that people would refer to as being actually in love, but for him, for Art, it was. Love was tolerance. Love was allowing you to live.
You feel a hand slip up your dress again, and this time, you donât stop him. You part your legs for him this time, willingly letting him indulge in what you denied him earlier. Through your panties you feel his thick fingers, his index and middle pressing against your clit, sliding down between your cunt and back up again. He threatens to penetrate you with the tips of his fingers through your panties with a gentle prod, but doesnât follow through on it.
You ache, feeling more empty than ever.
Heâs doing this on purpose. All because you told him to wait earlier.
âArt,â You say his name with a weak laugh, and he stops to look at you, knowingly, at that, well aware of what it is heâs doing. His little way of being petty with you, and he continues once more, trailing his fingers up and down between your thighs, waiting for you to continue.
âItâs been months,â You plead for him. His face is still inches from yours, and you lean more of yourself against him, as your voice gets low. He observes you through half lidded eyes, analyzing you, assessing you and sizing you up. Heâs no longer smiling, and his lips are downturned ever so slightly. The expression looks more neutral now.
âI wanna have some fun.â You purse your lips. âPut your weapon crafting down for a bit?â
Your tone is pleading. Itâs a mix of a command and a requestâyouâre voicing your thoughts. You try to get a reading on his response through his eyes, but heâs put up a wall that you canât breach. Heâs unreadable. Itâs been months upon months since youâve both done anything together.
ââŠPlease?â
Artâs gaze is still indecipherable. It makes you a little nervous. The hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand up. Did he change his mind suddenly?
Had it been anyone else, you know theyâd be dead instantly. There was no wondering about that. Not a speculation or doubt in your mind. You hated when he did this, when he was fucking with you like this, leaving you in silence. Itâs in times like these that youâre reminded that youâre with a wild animal, and he could snap at any second if he decided he was hungry. It was part of the risk you took and the bargain you struck.
Maybe heâd just stab you here and now. Slit your throat and call it a fucking day because he decided that, nope, donât wanna keep doing this anymore! He could. Again, heâs pushed you away before. Other days heâs yanked you in against him. His mood was unpredictable, hard to guess, and as volatile as a storm across an ocean.
Without another word, youâre turned around, and the flat of Artâs palm travels down your spine as he presses the front of your body forward and down onto the workbench. He gives you time to adjust, so that youâre at least able to rest your forearms on the table top. As of right now, your tits are squished against the surface of the table. Itâs a little uncomfortable.
This is surprisingly tender, all things considered. You remember one time when heâd been fucking you on his workbench, how he tied your hands together with some zipties and then choked you out by wrapping some rusty metal chains around your neck. And that was only after heâd finished whipping your breasts, thighs and ass until you were a bloody bruised mess barely hanging on. You still have some scars from those times. He loved to twirl you over the line of death like it was all one dance, pulling you back at the last second.
You go from feeling his palm to the fingertips travel down your back. If it werenât for the fabric of your dress in the way, you know those blood and dirt stained fingertips would have tickled you by now. And heâs done that in the past while fucking youâtickling you mercilessly. He even makes a point to wiggles his fingers a little against your back on the way down playfully. You canât help but laugh a little as you exhale, letting some of the excitement stirring within you leave your body through your lungs. Your breaths are getting deeper, and in times like this, when he thrills you in such a way, youâre reminded just how much he makes you feelâŠ
Alive.
Because when youâre with him, death is always hot on your heels. And you wouldnât have it any other way.
âDonât be gentle,â You tell him. He knows. You know he knows.
You hear the metallic zipper from the front of his suit go down as the teeth on the track separate and reveal the body of a man beneath that clown visage. You steal a glance over your shoulder to admire his pale skin that covered over such a thin frame. Amazing how a build such as his carries such supernatural strength.
Unceremoniously, he gets right to work, giving your ass a firm slap after lifting the back of your dress, letting it crumple up over your hips. You yelp gently as you know that thereâs likely already a red spot on your rump. Art rubs the spot on your ass heâd slapped, then gives it a gentle squeeze.
You make the decision to look over your shoulder, right on time to experience watching when the killer clown makes the decision that you no longer are in need of your panties. His dirtied fingers slip within the space between the elastic waistband of your undergarment and your skin. He lets it snap against your flesh onceâthatâs about the extent of use it gets before he grabs whatever meager fistful he can of that excuse of âmodestyâ you brought to him and rips it clean off your form.
âOw!â
You told him to be rough. And heâs planning on taking that quite literally, as heâs taking it for not just the sex, but all of what precedes it apparently. Heâs quietly laughing to himself, teeth showing, eyes crinkled.
âGlad you got some entertainment out of it.â
A few more noiseless giggles then he sobers up. Back to the task at handâfucking your brains out.
He aligns himself right up against your warm dripping cunt, hands gripping your hips so tightly that his filthy fingertips leave stains on your dress. His nails are so sharp you swear that if he tried to sink them in any further, heâd pierce the cloth and right into your flesh. You inhale sharply again, bracing for the moment he sinks in. You feel the tip of his cock press against you and begin to push in, the head barely getting the chance even to get inside you before it slips and glides between the crack of your ass as he misses. Your excitement stutters for a second, but then ramps back up higher than before, impatience and desire washing over you wholly like a wave.
Youâve been grabbing at the edge of the workbench, hands holding tight and then releasing them of their grip every so often to relax your muscles. You donât say anything.
Heâs annoyed at missing you the first push in.
With a look of disgruntlement he instead opts for one hand reaching to push your head down against the table with such a cruel force that makes you worry for a split second that he was trying to crush your skull. It was his way of trying to steady you as he then uses his other hand to line the head of his cock right against your cunt for the second time.
You shiver as you feel him, hands turning to fists that you clench tightly as inch by agonizing inch, he spreads you and fills you out easily. Your body did the heavy work, and has been prepping for him for the last ten minutes. Itâs slick, and he can feel the wetness of your cunt hit against his balls when he bottoms out within you. Thatâs when you sigh in relief.
He almost pulls all the way out, then rams into you roughly, making you exhale sharply as the table shakes upon impact. The few tools laid out shuddered until they stilled. Give or take a few more times of this, and he finally releases his hand on your head, but you still opt to keep your head down.
The rhythm he has is a little awkward at first, but he is quick to course correct, both hands firmly planted on your hips, keeping you steady. You canât see his face right now, but youâve seen it plenty of times when youâve fucked before. How his mouth would go into that âoâ shape, and the way his eyes would go half mast, holding nothing but a glimpse of paradise behind him as you could see that he was as close to heaven as his wicked self could get. You were beautiful to him, as far as sacks of flesh and blood went. And you could tell the times that he looked at you in such a predatory manner that there was restraint behind it.
You feel the pressure build up within you at a steady rate as he leans over you, chest pressed against your back, sucking on your neck, marking you. Then he nips. Then kisses, then sucks so goddamn hard on the same spot that you swear that heâs trying to suction your flesh right off your body.
It doesnât take long for you to be so close. Heâs so warm. The sound of his body slapping against yours, mixed with the creak of the workbench thatâs forced to undergo the assault of you being rammed into it, a few quiet moans slip past your lips to join along.
Youâre unbearably close, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, just a little more andâ
Your phone goes off.
You forgot to silence it.
You feel it vibrating in the pocket of your dress. The ringtone scares the shit out of you and Art, who abruptly jumps a little while still on top of you.
âOf course.â You say sarcastically. âOf course! Who the fuck is calling me?!â Youâre irritated now, mood under threat of being ruined. The excitement you felt shrivels up.
Reaching inside your hiked up dress pocket, you pull out your phone and check to see who had the audacity to try and get a hold of you in your time of undoing.
Your friend. Sort of. He was like a close acquaintance? If you could call him that. You met him when you were out and about one night. Heâs an okay dude, hasnât done anything wrong.
If only he didnât harbor a romantic interest in you when you were already spoken for. But how could you begin to tell someone that youâre involved with a psychopathic killer clown? Specifically the Miles County Clown?
Youâre ready to send him right to voicemail, until the phone is seized right out of your hand from over your shoulder.
âHey!â
Your protest is in vain, as Art too, looks at who is calling you right now. You had HOPED heâd take a look at it, have his curiosity sated, maybe turn the phone off or better yet, youâd even forgive him if he tossed it over his shoulder, just this once!
But the look heâs giving you, then the phone, makes your heart sink as you realize.
âArt, donât do itââ
His expression turns wicked, mouth upturned into the most shiteating grin youâve ever seen.
âArt, I swear to godââ
But godâs not here, nowhere to be found in this workshop. Godâs forsaken you. Doing the devils tango with a demon can do that.
Giggling silently to himself, in an act of deliberate defiance against you as well as likely for his very own amusement, he accepts the phone call for you and places it right to your ear.
What a gentleman. Truly.
Youâre going to fucking kill him. You try to take the phone away from him, but he merely pulls it back out of your reach.
âHello?â
You can hear the voice on the other end of the line. Art brings it down to your ear again and you try to make a reach for it a second time, only for him to do the exact same thing as before, silently cackling all the while. Itâs become apparent that heâs not going to let you have it.
âHellooooo?â
With a resigned sigh, you donât fight him any further. Art puts the phone to your ear for the third time.
âHey.â You answer wearily.
âHey!â His voice on the other end of the line is suddenly lighter, filled with levity. You can hear the way that his breath is hitched in the back of his throat. Static tinges at the edges of his words. Must be a shoddy connection down here.
âHow are you?â
âIâmââ You start to answer, but are interrupted by Art going back to rocking his hips into you while still over you. Once again, you look over your shoulder to give him the stink eye.
âIâm good, just uh, you know. Hanging out.â You respond, exhaling deeply as Art stirs the fire within you again after it had just begun to cool down.
âNice, me too.â He says, and lets the silence between you both sink in for a few seconds. âYou doing anything tomorrow?â
This would all be so much easier if you werenât getting dicked down.
âI⊠Iâm uhââ
Heâs pounding into you from behind now, still leaning over you, holding the phone for you in one hand and keeping the other on the workbench for stability. Each fluid roll of his hips is equally tantalizing as the previous, his body connecting with yours in such a familiar way you craved. The table shakes, and youâre gripping the edges of it for dear life. You can hear his heavy breath from behind you, excitement building in each time he fills and empties his lungs.
âArtââ You say his name through grit teeth like a warning, with annoyance in your tone, but the excitement you feel, the rush and the thrill of it all has you coming close to release. Why does this feel so good? This man, this sweet man, who has done nothing wrong to you, interested in you, blissfully unaware that your heart belongs to someone else, being fooled like this. Itâs wrong. This is wrong. Art knew about this man. He knew about him for some time. Art made it clear that he hated him. The only reason heâs still breathing is because you asked Art not to put this manâs head on a pike, but you fear itâs only a matter of time until your clown lover eviscerates this trespasser for encroaching on what he perceives as his territoryâyou.
âArt?" He repeats.
This is all an act of revenge done on the Artâs part. His pettiness knew no bounds.
âYeah, art. You knowâMhnââ Your nails dig into the edge of the workbench as if thatâll somehow make a difference in the fact that heâs pounding into your cunt with such an aggressive force that begins to make you ache.
âYou know, p-painting? Drawing. That sort of thing.â
You can only pray the ungodly sinful noises of his skin slapping against yours canât be heard over the line.
âOhhh⊠Well, hey, you wanna hangout sometime soon? Itâs been a bit. Wanted to catch up with you if thatâs fine.â
Youâre not paying attention to a damn thing this dude is saying. Itâs just words, in one ear, straight out the other.
âUhuh.â You say without thinking. Youâre close. Youâre unbearably close as Art angles himself in such a way that hits just right. He knows how you work all too well. He knows how to unwind you and how to pull you apart piece by piece like itâs second nature to him.
Artâs pushing you towards the cliff, and thereâs no stopping it. Your vision starts to blur a little. Your breathing deepens, and Art knows whatâs about to come next, which only seems to spur him on as well, exciting him to the point where now heâs going fast not just for you, but for himself, chasing his own orgasm hot on its heels.
âHowâs about next Thursday, at 7pm? Thereâs a new restaurant across the street from where we both metââ
The phone becomes nothing short of white noise. This shouldnât feel so right, it shouldnât. But it does. Gods above, it does.
You feel yourself lose sense of the world around you. Thereâs nothing but ringing in your ears, and you realize how little time you have to prepare before itâs too late.
Your orgasm crashes into you and is ripped out of you all within seconds. You try to keep quiet, your voice strangled and choked out in the process. Your release is violent as it tears you between what feels like the state of life and death. Your cunt tightens around his cock, squeezing him in contractions that trigger him in turn. Art hisses like a serpent, feeling his muscles lock up and knowing that he only has a few seconds to bury himself to the hilt within you, and he does. His face twists into an ugly and horrid expression as he comes inside you, dropping the phone on the workbench in the process while filling you with all the pent up energy he had been keeping away from you for months.
All of what heâd been denying you was now yours.
âHello?â
Youâre finally coming back into your own body a few meager seconds later when you register the voice, and hurriedly grab the phone before Art gets the chance.
âCan I call you back?â You ask, holding the phone to your mouth, but you werenât really asking. Your friend had no real say in it, and before he even gets the chance to respond, you hang up. And then you lower your head and sigh. All the while, Art has since recovered, but his legs are shaky. You shove him off of you, and he stumbles back with an uneven balance, post orgasm weakened. Goofily he fumbles past the stool from earlier, which he tries to grab but fails in doing so. Instead, he lands right on his ass.
Youâre sure to follow that up by throwing your phone at his head, which it does, but it lands with a clack right beside him. The only reason you felt remotely confident in doing that is because youâre both that close. Well, that and irritation made you a bold motherfucker sometimes. Yet despite all of that, he sits there, a wickedly amused smile on his face.
You pull your dress back down. Your legs tingle and you swear you feel some of his come dripping down your thigh, but youâre not sure.
âProud of yourself, huh?â You ask, leaning against the bench for balance until you get your footing.
Yes. Yes he was proud of himself!
The rest of the night was spent at Artâs temporary hideaway space, lamenting the loss of your panties and calling back your guy friend who had unknowingly been part of something much more than he knew. And youâd never tell him. Not that you would ever have the chance to tell him really anything at all anymore in the future.
You had no idea at the time that Art would meet your friend the day you were both set to reconvene. But you should have known better, and a part of you already did. The reason you know he was dead was because he ended up on the local news the next day missing.
That, and Art had saved the manâs heart specifically for you when you came to visit him again.
#art the clown#terrifier#art the clown x you#art the clown x reader#slasher x you#slasher x reader#x reader
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hi baby â€ïž
consider bunny!arle in heat who keeps fucking you over and over. she wants to give you her baby bunnies so badly, but she can't :(
so, the best you can do is give her one of those straps with fake cum.
but now seeing it leak out of you gets her even more excited, tail all twitchy as she fills you up over and over đ€
IâM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!!!!!! Here you go<3
Contents: fake breeding, just sex, Arlecchino just wants baby bunnies fr
Word count: 1074
Nsft utc!
âYou didnât tell me.â
âIt is pointless.â
âWhy?â
She sighs, thumping her feet on the floor in annoyance. Your petting of her head turns into soft strokes. Itâs quiet for a few seconds before she rolls over again.
âI want to breed. I cannot breed. Therefore, it is pointless.â
You canât help but smile, though you feel a little guilty for smiling when she grumbles a âwhy the hell is that funny?â You shake your head, apologising before you stand up and walk to your closet in the bedroom, fishing for something. You can hear her grumbling all the way from the living room, and once you finally find what youâre looking for, you come back to her. A box, wrapped in plain crimson wrapping. You bend down to her again.
âOpen it, will you?â
âI apologise, love, but I am not in the mood to open gifts.â
âTrust me. Open it.â
She groans as she sits up. She knows you wonât let it go until she opens it, so she decides to humour you. She doesnât bother with her usual opening style, clean and preserving the paper. She rips into the paper before she comes face to face with a black box. She gives you a pointed look, as if to say âreally?â before she opens the box, only to find a strap on and a harness.
Her face crumpled in confusion, her eyes moving up to meet yours, your prideful smirk covering your face.
âThe hell is this? My love, we have enough of these.â
âNo, no. It.. it has fake cum, itâs safe to go inside of me. Itâs not real, I know, but itâs the closest weâll get. Itâs already set up. You want to breed me when youâre like this. It gives you the illusion, does it not?â
She lets out a shaky breath, staring at the contents of the box before she mutters under her breath.
âI fucking love you.â
You can only chuckle in response, but it ends quickly as a gasp rips through you. Sheâs on top of you within seconds, sliding your shirt up and off your body, her thumbs dipping under the waistline of your shorts before roughly dragging them down. She seems to be already panting as she fumbles with the harness, staring at your flushed face below her. You hear a few clicks before you feel her slap it against you, gathering the slick that quickly developed with what sounds like an almost whimper. You can see in her eyes she wants to make you wait, that she wants to tease you until you beg her, but sheâs losing all restraint. And then you breathe out a moan and she loses herself, pushing into you with no warning, causing both of you to groan in unison. Your hand clutches the carpet, murmuring to Arlecchino who is thrusting into you quickly, breathing heavily into your neck.
âWe are on the floor.â
âDonât care. Take it.â
Your body ends up moving with the force of each thrust, your noises growing louder with every minute that passes. Her thrusts are shallow and quick at first, her only noises being grunts and growls of pleasure. You can tell sheâs close by the way her movements change, becoming hard and deeper than ever, her grunts turning to whines as her tail begins twitching. You feel yourself clench around her strap, and as your orgasm rides over you, the strap does exactly what itâs supposed to do. Arlecchino gasps, holding onto you as you tremble and moan. She pulls out, if only to see the âcumâ dripping out of you as she roughly rubs your clit with her thumb. Sheâs kind enough to give you some respite.
Until she starts again, grunting with increased desperation, her hips stuttering as they move without any certain rhythm, her hands pulling and keeping your thighs apart. She moves you into every position possible with each time she fills you. A mating press, your legs hooked over her shoulders, and now, on all fours, a pretty arch of your back that she has pushed you into before she moves her hand into your hair and pulls your head up roughly with a sharp tug of your hair, causing some strangled gasp to come out of your mouth. Arlecchino, being the woman that she is, pulls your head back so she can look at you as she fucks you, watching your face twist in overstimulation and pleasure as tears begin to fill your eyes. She doesnât stop, though. You havenât said the safe word, so why would she?
âTake it. Take my cock and have my children. You look so pretty with my cum dripping out of you. I wonât stop until Iâm certain Iâve bred you well enough. Now cum. Again.â
You obey, though you canât stop your body reactions. This time, itâs too much, as you cry out, your breath hitching as you speak the safe word. She slows down, coming to a stop. She stays inside of you for a while, her grip releasing on your hair as her face comes down to nuzzle in your neck before pulling out with a soft, wet pop. The floor is covered in the âcumâ, and itâs dripping out of you, trailing down your trembling legs. She lays you back down on the floor, albeit the fact the floor is messy. Her hands trail up your legs, her tail still twitching as she gathers the fluid with her fingers.
âYou have made me make a mess, love. Thank you for the gift. Weâll go again tomorrow.â
#knavesflames inboxđ„#knavesflames#genshin impact#arlecchino#arlecchino x reader#arlechinno x reader#arlechinno genshin#arle#genshin x reader#arlecchino smut#arlecchino genshin impact#arlecchino genshin#genshin impact arlecchino
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Pairing : Non!Idol College AUKim Seungmin x F!Reader TW : angst ; tsundere Seungmin ; reader injury but not super serious ; lots of use of the word fuck ; slightly suggestive if you squint ; mentions of drinking but reader doesn't ; fluff at the end though ; Word Count : 8.4k A/N : You all picked Seungmin and Seungmin you shall receive! I don't even know how long this will take to finish writing to post, I'm currently setting up this part on May 4th, so... works got me fucked up a bit. I finally finished it on May 27th jfc. I'm so sorry for making everyone wait! I hope you enjoy this Anonny! Request : Anonny : Could you do one with Felix or seungmin, youâre their best friend and you both have feelings for each other. Felix or seungmin finds out about it and goes out with girls to try and make you jealous but instead you end up distancing yourself from him because you canât bear to look at him with other girls, he notices and comes to you and you guys make up and kisses and fluff pls đ
âBestie boo boo!!â You called out, running over to Seungmin and wrapping your arms around him from behind. You could tell it was him just from the back of his head, thatâs how close the two of you were. It had been that way since middle school when your parents moved and you got transferred to his school. He was your first friend, your only friend for the longest time.Â
âHate it when you call me thatâŠâ He mumbled, but you could feel his chest vibrating with silent laughter. What you couldnât see was the deep red blush that covered his cheeks and the shy smile that tugged at his cheeks. For the longest time you looked at him as just a friend, the two of you had even dated other people through high school, consoling each other after breakups, being each otherâs wingmen, the stupid shit that best friends do for each other in high school. Now that you were in college though, you couldnât help but really see him, see him as more than a friend⊠The only problem was that he didnât see you as anything more.Â
You lightly slapped him on the back, an overly dramatic scowl on your face, waiting for him to turn around. âYah! Look at meâŠâ He slowly turned around and you made sure to change the scowl to a pout when he finally looked at you. Neither of you could keep up the act long though, it took less than 4 seconds for both of you to laugh. âSeriously though, youâre bestie boo boo, it isnât changing.âÂ
He rolled his eyes before grabbing the strap of your backpack and pulling you closer. To say your heart almost jumped out of your chest was an understatement, all the years of watching k-dramas⊠was this your moment? âYou annoy me. Why are we friends again?â He muttered, throwing his arm over your shoulder and practically dragging you along next to him as he walked. Your silence had him stopping and looking at you though, his eyebrow arched, a flash of worry glinting in his eyes. âIâm joking⊠That was a joke. I know that youâd be helpless without me.âÂ
Your lips popped as your mouth fell open, the smug look on his face both aggravating and extremely attractive at the same time. âI am not helpless. I donât even need you.â That was a lie, you needed him in more ways than what he was thinking, but you kept those thoughts to yourself as you moved out from under his arm and walked ahead of him. Your pride was short-lived as you stepped on a rock, your ankle twisting in the process and a tiny yelp leaving your mouth.Â
Seungmin had run over to you immediately, dropping his bag beside him so he could grab onto you, his hands firmly gripping your waist to hold you steady, and even though your ankle was sore, the electric feeling that coursed through you from his touch overpowered the pain completely. âYou walk away for⊠what was that? 5 seconds? Maybe 6?â He sighed softly, shaking his head as he looked you over, and he must have taken the flustered look on your face as one of pain because he quickly grabbed his bag with one hand, his other arm staying around your waist as he slowly walked with you. âIs your ankle okay? I can carry you. Do you think you can make it to the nurse?âÂ
âI donât even need to go to the nurseâŠâ You muttered, trying to upkeep your iâm totally fine act, all while also trying to keep your heart beating at a steady pace with his arm still wrapped around you. âYouâll just mock me the whole time anyway⊠I mean, who trips over a rock⊠so stupid.â You continued to mumble.Â
His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth and you were ready for him to start firing off the jokes that youâd most likely hear for the next month or so, but he let out a soft sigh. âIâm not going to make fun of you for getting hurt, Iâm not a complete asshole.â You huffed loudly out of your nose, and little did you know, he thought every little thing that you did was absolutely adorable, he just didnât know how to tell you. âIâm taking you to the nurse no matter what, so if you want me to carry you, I will.âÂ
Oh to be carried by him, to be held in his arms⊠or maybe being piggybacked across campus, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding onto him so tightly⊠âNo, Iâm fine. It was just a little twist, theyâll probably laugh at me for coming in with something so small. It probably isnât even anything.â He hummed softly, his arm moving away from your waist and you felt pathetic for noticing the lack of warmth immediately. The electricity that you had felt coursing through your veins was suddenly gone and it was strangely sad for you.Â
The lack of his support also meant that your weight was now completely on your ankle and you could feel just how badly you had twisted it. You winced at the pain that shot through your whole leg, and you either werenât good at hiding it, or Seungmin was just really good at picking up on everything. Whatever it was, he quickly stepped in front of you, squatting down and hitching his arms around your knees to lift you onto his back. âYouâre so stubborn.â He grumbled, and itâs like the added weight of you being on his back didnât faze him at all. In fact, he started walking faster towards the medical building, a man on a mission, and being so close had the butterflies in your stomach going absolutely crazy.Â
âTry not to walk on it.â The nurse said as she finished wrapping your ankle that had swollen to twice its size by the time you got to the building. âGo straight home and prop it up on a couple pillows, put some ice on it to take some of the swelling down. Use the crutches. If it hurts, take some ibuprofen and that should help with the pain.â You nodded along to everything she was saying, but you werenât exactly listening, focusing more on the way Seungmin was staring at you intently, and you didnât know if the expression on his face was one of disappointment or annoyance.Â
âIâll make sure she doesnât walk on it and that she keeps it propped up. Thank you.â He spoke for you, bowing his head as he got up from the chair that was on the opposite side of the room. Grabbing your crutches, he walked over to you and helped you up off the bed, the paper underneath you crinkling loudly with every movement. âDo you need me to carry you again?â He asked, and you rolled your eyes, taking the crutches from him and situating them under your arms before doing your best to keep your balance and move forward at the same time, which was quite difficult.Â
âYou can go to class, Iâll be fine.â You said, and while youâd love to get ahead of him, it was too easy for him to keep up with your little hops. âSeriously⊠This is so humiliating, I just want to be alone. Stupid fucking rock.â He sighed softly beside you, but he didnât leave your side, always at the ready, his arms shooting out instinctively to catch you when you looked like you were wobbling a little bit. âSeungminâŠâÂ
âWhat kind of best friend would I be if I let you walk home by yourself on crutches?â He quizzed, but it was a hypothetical question that you both already knew the answer to. âIâll make you some ramen too so that you donât have to get up. I want you to keep your leg up, like the nurse said.â He continued, it felt like he was scolding you. âIâll go to your classes and get copies of the lectures that you missed today so you wonât be behind.âÂ
âThanks dad.â You pouted, but kept staring at the ground, not just because you were sulking, but because you couldnât seem to walk straight with the crutches if you werenât watching your feet at the same time. You werenât even sure how long you were going to need them for, but within the first 20 minutes, thatâs all it took for you to dread them for a lifetime. Your underarms hurt and strangely enough, having â3â legs to walk on was more of a hindrance than anything.Â
âI can come over after my classes. We can watch a movie? Iâll keep you company while youâre healing since you canât really do anything else.â Watching a movie with Seungmin⊠just the two of you⊠maybe it would turn into cuddling⊠maybe heâd kiss you⊠You could fall asleep on his lap while he runs his fingers through your hair. It would be a dream come true, it would be the perfect evening. âIâll even bring snacks. Iâll buy your favorites.â Itâs like he was trying to bribe you to say yes, not that he needed to.Â
âSure⊠Yeah. As long as I can pick the movie.â You looked up at him with a pursed lip smile, the lack of attention on your feet had you stumbling a bit, and he quickly caught you again. He didnât even have to look at you to know you were wobbling either, he just reached out to steady you before dropping his arms back to his sides. âThis sucksâŠâÂ
///
âDonât you have baseball practice?â You asked tiredly as you leaned against his shoulder, curled up under a blanket on your couch, the movie playing on the television was just background noise at this point. âI donât want the rest of the team to get mad⊠Youâre their best player.â That wasnât even you trying to hype him up either, he truly was the best player on the team. Thatâs why it was so hard for you to believe that he wanted to spend most of his free time with you. He was the all star player, every girl on campus had their eyes set on him, yet he made it seem like he only wanted to be around you. It just didnât make any sense, and you wondered if maybe he was doing it out of pity considering you were less popular, well, you werenât really popular at all.Â
You always caught the glares that the girls would send your way when you walked by with Seungmin by your side, and if you listened hard enough, you could almost hear them shit talking you, as if you were in some way forcing Seungmin to hang out with you. âEh, they can handle one practice without me.â He said nonchalantly, stretching his arms above his head before getting up off the couch. âYou hungry yet?â He didnât even wait for your answer before walking to the kitchen and raiding your cabinets, pulling out two ramen bowls. âWhat are you gonna do when I go back to my dorm?â He asked, as if trying to make small talk while waiting for the water to boil in the pot on the stove.Â
âProbably gonna run a marathon, do my laundry, use the stairs in the building for the first time since Iâve lived here. Ya know, goof around a bit.â You teased, but when you turned to look at him, you could tell he was less than impressed at your answer and he didnât find it as funny as you did. âJeez, youâre such a sour puss sometimes. Obviously Iâm going to listen to the nurse and keep my leg propped up. Iâll just be here, all bored, probably starve while I watch YouTube videos on my phone.â It was like you couldn't give up the chance to be a smartass, and Seungmin knew that, so he just rolled his eyes as he turned his attention back to the water that was bubbling on the surface now.Â
âDonât you have any friends that can spend the night or something to help you out?â He questioned, and you werenât sure why, but the way he said it made it seem like he didnât really want to be there. Maybe you were just reading into things, you did have the tendency to do that, but you thought that maybe he would offer to stay to help you. Not just that, but you were sure that he knew well enough that you didnât really have any friends, not ones that would willingly give up their nights to help you.Â
You donât know why you were so upset honestly, but your bottom lip trembled as you looked around your living room, trying to look at anything but him. âJust forget about it. You can go.â You said softly, hoping that heâd hear you and heâd just leave without another word. The oven clicked off and you heard soft footsteps carrying him from the kitchen into the living room where you were sitting, your breath held, but then he came into your view, his eyebrows creased with worry as he looked at you. If you werenât so upset, youâd laugh at him, but you turned away from him instead. âSeriously, you can leave. I can do this on my own.âÂ
His eyes closed, a loud sigh blowing through parted lips, hot breath hitting the side of your face as you continued to avoid looking at him. âWhatâs wrong? Look at meâŠâ His voice was below a whisper, although it was tinged with annoyance rather than the worry that masked his features. âIâm making you something to eat, what more do you want me to do? Iâm trying to help you and youâre trying to kick me out. I donât know what else you want from me.â It was evident that he was getting more and more irritated the more he spoke, and the fact that you still hadnât looked at him was only upsetting him more. âFine⊠Do it on your own.â He muttered, standing up straight and turning on his heel to head out the door.Â
Sure, simply explaining to him why you were upset probably would have been better, but you were too upset to talk to him about it. Itâs not like he was unaware of why you would be upset at the comment he made. He knew damn well that you felt less than adequate being his friend when he was so popular and he was quite literally the only friend you had. He always tried to invite you out to hang out with his friends and their girlfriends, but you knew they didnât actually like you, they simply tolerated you because for some reason, Seungmin liked having you around. To them, it didnât matter that the two of you had been friends for so long. He was popular now, he was lusted after by every girl on campus, he was a star⊠and you were a nobody. He might have a bunch of friends that would help him if he were to get hurt the way you did⊠but you had nobody, nobody but him.Â
Kicking him out didnât seem to prove any kind of point though, it only made you feel lonelier. You had absolutely no one now to help you, and while you knew that Seungmin was only a text away, you were sure that after the way you treated him he wouldnât feel as inclined to come over and help you. You were truly on your own, and you didnât know how youâd do anything without his help. You were adamant though, you didnât need him, you didnât need anyone. You were sure that he had better things to do anyway. You werenât going to burden him. It seemed like he didnât want to stay around and help you, not when he was asking if you had other friends that would be able to do it⊠Maybe he was trying to get rid of you.Â
///
âThought you were going to be over Y/Nâs all evening?â Felix asked as soon as Seungmin walked through the front door. Felix wasnât exactly popular either, not in regards to being a jock, he was more into computer games that occupied most of his time. Both guys were sure that if they hadnât been paired up as roommates, they wouldnât even know of the other's existence. Yet, since becoming roommates almost two years ago, they had gotten just as close as Seungmin and you were. âHowâs she feeling by the way? Is she okay?âÂ
Felix was the only one that had been told of your accident earlier in the day. He was the only one that Seungmin thought would care. He knew that his baseball friends werenât all too interested in you, and if it were up to them, you wouldnât be hogging all of Seungmins time in the first place. âI donât know, man. She got really upset and kicked me out⊠I thought Iâd be able to tell her today.â Seungmin dropped down into the empty seat at the table that Felix was sitting at, running his hands over his face before dropping them down onto the table with a heavy thud. âMaybe she just doesnât like meâŠâÂ
Now if there was one thing that Felix knew, it was about Seungmins crush for you. It wasnât even a crush anymore, it was more than that. Seungmin was head over heels in love with you, and Felix heard about it every single day. He had only found out about it when Seungmin had invited you over to his place for a bit, the first and last time it ever happened, and Felix had been there. Once you left, Felix had told Seungmin that he thinks that youâre really pretty. It almost turned into a full blown argument as Seungmin shouted about how Felix couldnât have you and that you were his. Thatâs when it had all been laid out on the table, and that was about five months ago. Felix thought that Seungmin would have told you by now, but apparently he hadnât. He couldnât understand why though, itâs not like you didnât like Seungmin back. That was painfully obvious⊠Did Seungmin not even notice? âYouâre blind⊠Arenât you?â Felix commented, and Seungmin lifted his head, staring at Felix incredulously. âShe likes you⊠Even I can see that. I donât know why you wonât just tell her, itâll probably make the both of you feel better to just get it all out.âÂ
âDude, she doesnât like me. If she did, she wouldnât have kicked me out.â Seungmin retorted, and Felix felt like he was talking to a brick wall. How could Seungmin be so clueless? âI was literally in the middle of making food for the both of us! Itâs like she got mad or something and just told me to leave. I asked her if she had any other friends to help her when I wasnât there⊠Maybe she had her boyfriend coming over and what I said reminded her and she needed me to leave before he got there⊠She never told me about a boyfriend though. I feel like I would know about something like that⊠She would have told meâŠâ Felix was absolutely dumbfounded by how stupid Seungmin sounded right now. Even Felix was able to figure it out immediately after knowing what Seungmin had said, but for some reason, he was just unable to put it all together.Â
âDude⊠She likes you⊠Just tell her!â Felix said, trying his best to not get annoyed with Seungmins lack of critical thinking. But Seungmin shook his head, pushing away from the table, eliciting a loud groan from Felix whose head fell back to stare up at the ceiling in complete disbelief. âHow long are you going to drag this out, man? The longer you wait, the lower your chances are. If she thinks you donât like her, she might just move on. Think about that for a bit.âÂ
And he did, Seungmin did think about it. He thought about it a lot. The thought was raising hell in his brain no matter where he was or what he was doing. He couldnât sleep, he couldnât focus in class, he couldnât even focus during practice. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of you potentially being with someone else, and that pissed him off. You couldnât be with anyone. You were his.Â
Thatâs why he started looking up what to do online, which probably seemed stupid to anyone else, but he couldnât just outright tell you that he was in love with you. He wouldnât be able to handle the rejection if you didnât like him back. He couldnât take Felixs word for it because, even though Felix was his friend, he was also the type of guy that thought that a girl simply smiling and waving at him meant that she liked him⊠Which was crazy.Â
In the end, he found a lot of ideas, but only one seemed like it would actually work. It was also easier to pull off than any of the other ideas he came across online. This one would be foolproof. If you didnât react, it meant that you didnât like him and he would finally be able to move on, although he wasnât sure how long it would take for him to do that. If you did react though, he would know that you did like him, and he would finally be able to tell you. He hoped that it worked, it seemed like it would⊠He just really wanted it to work out in a way where you would truly be his in the end.Â
///
It had been two weeks since you kicked Seungmin out, and while you hadnât completely ghosted him, your replies to his texts were rather short. You were still upset, and your mind was racing with the thought that he was slowly but surely trying to ease you out of his life. There were so many girls that wanted him, having you around was probably ruining his game with all of them, and, while you werenât clingy to him by any means, the two of you were always around each other, and you were sure that made it hard for him to get with anyone else.Â
Still, his birthday was coming up soon, and you were finally fully healed from your little accident two weeks ago (you cared for yourself the entire time, even when Seungmin asked if you needed help), and you were sure that heâd have another party like he had every year before. You wondered if you were still invited though, and while you didnât want to be the first person to text him, you thought that maybe sending him a quick Happy Birthday message would open the door for him to tell you, or at least ask you to come to the party.Â
âHey⊠Happy Birthday, Min.â You quickly sent it, and like any other time you texted him first, your stomach would twist up in knots as you awaited his reply. Love was crazy in the way that it made people feel. It was like that feeling alone took control of all your other emotions and made them come out at times when they werenât necessary, and it made them come out too strong⊠Which is why you kicked Seungmin out in the first place. You loved him so much that you were scared of him not loving you back so you tried to get rid of him completely. It was so stupid.Â
âHey! Thanks! You still coming to my party tonight, right?â Did he actually want you to come or was he just asking to be sure that you werenât? Dammit⊠He always made you feel so conflicted. Maybe if you just told him that you liked him, you could just get it over with, get the final answer and whatever comes next⊠Well, thatâs up to fate. Maybe⊠Maybe you could tell him tonight⊠At the party. If he said no, you would just leave, run home and cry under your blanket and avoid him for the rest of your college years. It wouldnât ruin his party, he had so many friends, theyâd probably all get together and laugh at you anyway. You just needed to get it off your chest once and for all. You couldnât keep hiding your feelings, you couldnât keep going about your days like you were okay with just being friends⊠You needed to let him know.Â
âYeah! Yeah, Iâll be there!â You texted back, and you already felt your heart speeding up at the thought of standing in front of him and telling him. The sweat was beading up on your forehead and your hands felt clammy. You didnât even know what you were going to say, but you knew that trying to follow a script would only make you more nervous and youâd get tongue tied and end up rambling. The words would come effortlessly once you stood in front of him, the way they would fill your brain whenever you were around him, just waiting to be unleashed upon the man that you had loved for longer than you could remember. It would happen tonight⊠Youâd tell him everything, youâd tell him how wonderful you thought he was, how funny he is, how he makes your day better just by smiling in your direction. Youâd tell him that heâs the only person youâve been able to ever think about or see yourself with, that youâve always liked him, that youâll always love him no matter what. He needed to know⊠And you needed your answer.Â
The outfit you had chosen for the night was dressier than what youâd wear to any of the other parties⊠If you had ever been invited to any other parties⊠And it was surely much dressier than what you usually wore. A floral dress that sat just at the middle of your thighs, the color accenting your skin tone and framing your figure in all the right areas. It was the last thing you put on after doing your hair and your makeup, because honestly, you knew that if you looked at yourself in the mirror youâd get even more nervous and decide not to go at all.Â
You wanted to catch his eye though, you wanted him to know that you could be just as pretty as the other girls that chased him around campus⊠You were worthy of his attention, and maybe even his love if he wanted to give it to you. It was hard not to feel anxious though, as much as you tried not to be. You were worried that youâd end up sweating off your makeup which you had spent much longer on than usual because you wanted to look perfect for him. It wasnât too late to back out, just change your clothes and walk into the party in the regular clothes that you always wore when you went to his birthday parties⊠But this one was important⊠This one was the difference between spending the rest of your life pining over your best friend or finally being able to be his.Â
The music from the bar could be heard from outside the front doors, and you knew that it was most likely packed inside with all of his friends from baseball, and most likely all the girls on campus that were trying to hook up with him. You didnât want to be surrounded by them, and you werenât quite sure how youâd get him alone for even a second to tell him what you wanted to, but you were there and you were hellbent on telling him tonight, so you took a deep breath and walked into the bar, trying not to make eye contact with the people who seemed to stop and stare at you with wide eyes.Â
It wasnât hard to find Seungmin, he was in the center of the room, a beer in one hand and his phone in his other hand as he chatted with some guys that you remember seeing on the field when you went and watched him play. He was preoccupied, and it was only the beginning of the party⊠You didnât have to tell him right now⊠You could at least enjoy yourself for a little bit before potentially breaking your own heart.Â
âHey! Glad youâre here!â The voice came from behind you, and when you turned around you saw Felix, a wide smile raising his freckled cheeks and creasing his eyes. âYou look good by the way! Have you gotten a drink yet?â He had to shout above the music, and while you had heard his last question, you were too focused on the compliment he had given you right before. It sent a wave of heat rushing through you as you became more aware of his eyes that were looking you over. It didnât seem disrespectful, but no one had ever looked at you that way, it had you just a little bit flustered.Â
âUhm⊠No⊠No, I just got hereâŠâ You stammered, and he nodded, placing his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowd towards the bar, standing quite close to you as if youâd get lost in the mass of people if he wasnât practically connected to your hip. âIâll just have a water for now⊠Thank youâŠâ You told the bartender, and sure, it might seem a little lame to order water at a bar, but you didnât want to be drunk when talking to Seungmin, he might not take you seriously.Â
âStaying sober tonight, huh?â Felix joked, and you let out a small giggle as you shook your head. That wasnât the plan entirely, but you didnât want to start off your night with shots or anything either. Plus, you had walked for a good bit to get to the bar, and the last thing you wanted to do was rehydrate with alcohol. âHave you gotten to see Seungmin yet? I know itâs probably hard to get to him, heâs been being pulled in all different directions by a bunch of different people.âÂ
You hummed softly, it would be harder to get to him than you thought, but you were adamant now. Youâd have him to yourself, even if it was just long enough to tell him that you loved him. âItâs okay⊠Iâm sure heâll come find me when he has the chance to.â You said, just loud enough for Felix to hear you. âYou wanna go grab a table? I walked all the way here and my legs are kind of tiredâŠâ You offered, and he quickly nodded, his hand once again finding the small of your back as he led you to one of the empty tables, a little further from all the noise.Â
âItâs so loud in here⊠I donât know why he chose to have his party at a bar of all placesâŠâ Felix said, finally able to lower his voice just a little bit. You knew exactly why though, and you were sure that his new group of friends had some kind of say in it. Seungmin would probably be beyond drunk by the end of the night, and that had you more than slightly worried.Â
âHey! You finally made it!â Seungmins voice boomed over the noise, and your head instinctively whipped up to the sound of it. He froze for a split second when he looked at you, but his adams apple bobbed as he cleared his throat, running a hand through his already sweat-dampened hair as he chuckled. âIâm gonna go dance, you both gonna come out?â He asked, and while you knew Seungmin was a wonderful dancer in private, you had never expected him to dance in public, especially around all of his friends.Â
âSureâŠâ You said, feeling a little shy. Maybe he wanted to dance with you? Itâs not like you hadnât been close to him before, he gave you piggyback rides often, but the music that was playing right now was surely not something that youâd dance to in any other way than sultry⊠Maybe even a little seductively.Â
You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you slowly got up out of your seat, trying not to lose Seungmin in the crowd as you followed behind him. The heat quickly dissipated when you saw his hands grab the waist of another girl, pulling her against him, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music. Nauseous was the only way to describe the way you were feeling. It was like you couldnât breathe and the walls were closing in on you. You wanted to cry and your entire plan shattered right in front of you as you watched the man you were in love with move so sensually, so provocatively with another woman.Â
âY/NâŠâ Felixs voice came from behind you once again, clearly seeing the same thing you were, and you simply shook your head, turning around and rushing to the exit, hoping that some fresh air would at least help you breathe, and being away from everyone on campus who already thought you werenât good enough to be with Seungmin allowed you to finally let out the tears that you had been holding in. âWait! Y/N!â Felix called out, breathless from racing after you, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from running off again. âItâs okay⊠Itâs okayâŠâ He repeated, but itâs like the sentiment had the opposite effect on you, and you let out a sob, turning around resting your forehead against Felixs shoulder as you continued to cry.Â
âHow do I stop loving someone, Felix?â You whimpered, and you heard him sigh, the sound almost as sad as you were. âHeâs too good for me⊠I shouldnât have ever loved him⊠Iâm so stupid, Felix. I was⊠I was gonna tell him tonight⊠Iâm so fucking stupid.â One arm wrapped tightly around your waist as his other hand pet over your hair, quiet shushes attempting to console you. Did Seungmin even know that he had just broken your heart? Would he even care if he did know? You were just friends, it was foolish to fall in love with him, now you were fully aware of that. His friends would never accept you, and although he had never striked you as the type, maybe his popularity with his friends meant more to him than his almost lifelong friendship with you.Â
âItâs gonna be okayâŠâ Felix once again said, his hands moving to cup your cheeks, a soft, sympathetic smile gracing his angelic features as he wiped away the tears that fell from your eyes. âWe donât have to stay here⊠I can walk you back to your place or⊠we can go grab something to eat? You look so beautiful, I wouldnât want your outfit to go to waste.â He was trying, and you respected that, you appreciated it, but there was no way that youâd be able to keep your mind off of what you just witnessed long enough to pretend you were okay in a restaurant.Â
âI just want to go homeâŠâ You mumbled, and Felix nodded as he started walking beside you. He didnât ask any other questions, he didnât say anything else. He was a great friend, and whoever was lucky enough to be with him⊠You knew heâd make them feel loved and supported no matter what. He was a wonderful person, he truly was an angel. âThank you, Felix⊠ReallyâŠâÂ
///
âWhat the fuck!?â Seungmin was seething as he paced back and forth across the floor, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair. âWhy would you take her home!? You fucked up my whole fucking plan!â Seungmin continued to shout at Felix who sat on the couch, just as pissed off as Seungmin but for an entirely different reason. âI thought we were buds!â His palms slammed down against the kitchen counter, his forehead pressed against the cabinets as he tried- and failed -to calm himself down.Â
âOh fuck no! Donât pull that shit with me!â Felix threw it right back at Seungmin, his own voice booming, the deepness of it sending vibrations through the air. âYou tell me you love her and that you want to be with her, and then you pull some shit like that! This isnât my fault! If you would have listened to me in the first fucking place and just told her how you felt, everything would be fine!â Felix was breathing heavily as he defended not only himself, but you as well, even if you werenât there to hear it. âShe was going to tell you that she loved you, but instead, she got to witness you attempting your stupid fucking plan! And guess what! It didnât work! Sheâs devastated!âÂ
Seungmins head lifted from the cabinets, his face peeking around the corner as he looked at Felix. âShe loves me? She told you that?â He whispered, just needing to be sure that Felix was being 100% honest right now, because if he was⊠well⊠he had just made the biggest mistake ever and he wasnât sure if he would be able to fix it. Felixs eyes rolled as he nodded his head, although the movement was quite snarky, but he had a reason to act that way. Felix had told him from the beginning that you liked him, but Seungmin didnât want to listen, he wanted to find out in his own way⊠Everything was backfiring. âWhat do I do? I⊠She probably doesnât want to see me⊠Sheâs probably so upset⊠Fuck!âÂ
Felix shook his head, lounging back on the couch as he let out a humorless chuckle. âI ainât helping you anymore. I already tried, and you went and did your own fucking thing. Figure it out yourself now.â The response definitely had Seungmin fuming again, but he didnât have time to hash things out with Felix for another hour. He needed to check on you, which was easier said than done. You probably wouldnât even open the door for him, and he wouldnât blame you if you didnât, but he really wanted to apologize and tell you that he loves you, even if you might not feel the same way anymore.Â
~
It had been three hours since Felix had walked you home and made sure you got in your house alright. He had given you a hug and waited out in the hallway, making sure to watch that you not only closed the door, but that he also heard it lock before he walked away. In those three hours, the only things you had managed to do were change out of the uncomfortable outfit that you had chosen for the stupid party, clean your face, and then go right back to crying as you curled up on your couch.Â
Your phone vibrated on the arm of the sofa, and you were pretty sure that it would be Seungmin, and for the first time, you were hoping that it wasnât. You didnât have anything to say to him, you didnât even know what youâd say to him. You were still devastated, and you didnât want to talk to him at all. When you lifted your phone, it was a relief to see that it was Felix, but the relief was short-lived when you read what he had sent you.Â
âSeungmin is on his way over to your place. Look⊠Heâs like, madly in love with you, itâs almost disgusting. Youâre all he talks about, and he didnât know that you liked him back, so he was trying to test it and make you jealous by dancing with another girl⊠Donât worry, I called him out on his bullshit. BUT! I think it would be so funny to flip the tables and pull some shit on him too⊠I donât know⊠But if you donât want to see him or if youâre still upset, you can always text me, alright. I just wanted to let you know.âÂ
Seungmin did that⊠To make you jealous⊠Because he was⊠In love with you? It made absolutely 0 sense in your mind, but the brain of a hormonal college man worked far differently than yours did. But to flip the tables on him, you would have never thought of doing something like that⊠not if Felix hadnât put the idea in your head. You would have been so hung up on the fact that Seungmin did in fact love you, that you would have let everything else slide and gone running into his arms. You knew exactly what you were going to do though, and you were going to love every second of doing it. âThanks Lix! Iâll let you know how it goes!â You quickly texted back before relaxing on the couch, mentally preparing for when Seungmin came to your door.Â
~
Just slightly faster than sprinting, thatâs how fast Seungmin was running. Along with nighttime came a slightly chillier air that burned his lungs whenever he took a deep breath, but the lights illuminating the windows on your building were like a beacon calling to him, pushing him to keep going just a couple minutes more, and then heâd finally be there.Â
It was almost 2 in the morning now, and he wondered if youâd even still be awake. Had you cried yourself to sleep? He was the cause of it if you had, and his heart broke at the image in his mind, you curled up in your bed, the covers tucked under your chin as tears streamed down your face and soaked your pillow. He would never forgive himself for hurting you, especially when he could have gone the simpler route and just listened to Felix. He would have already had you if he had done that. He felt stupid, so damn stupid.Â
Bursting through the lobby door, he went straight to the elevator, his pointer finger slamming against the call button, already impatient after only 5 seconds of waiting. Why did you have to live on such a high floor? Just as he was about to turn around and take the stairs, the bell rang out and he rushed into the little box, his finger once again repeatedly pressing against the button to close the doors and then the number of your floor. The elevator was moving at turtle speed and it felt like this was all being done on purpose, just to make him wait longer to see you.Â
When the doors finally opened, he ran to yours, his hands coming down hard against the wood. Other tenants on the floor rushed out of their rooms, eyes wide, the urgent sound of his knocking made it seem like there was an emergency, and to him, there was. He felt like he was about to lose the love of his life, but to other people, he was just a madman, and honestly, a nuisance.Â
Your door flew open and he was met with the most beautiful, heart stopping scowl. He had wanted to kiss you many times before, but now he wanted to kiss you way more. âChrist, Seungmin. What do you want?â You hissed, your own head looking around your door frame and shooting an apologetic look to your neighbors before your eyes were back on him, your glare so cold it sent chills down his spine.Â
âIâm sorry⊠Iâm sorry I did that, and Iâm sorry I upset you. I thought⊠I donât know, that it would make you jealous and maybe youâd argue with me and Iâd just, Iâd just kiss you and tell you that I loved you and weâd laugh about it later. I didnât think it would hurt you, I didnât think it would make you cry, and Iâm really⊠really sorry.â The words were spewed out so fast, it only took him about 25 seconds to go from the first word to the last. It took him just as long to catch his breath after saying so much without even a breath in between.Â
âItâs whatever, Seungmin. I donât even care⊠I mean⊠Your stupidity really opened my eyes and showed me that thereâs someone out there who wouldnât hurt me like that to try to show me they love me.â Someone else⊠There was someone else? He blinked a few times, and even though it was clicking, he didnât want it to make sense, but he knew that the only other person that you had talked to tonight was Felix. But you couldnât be talking about Felix⊠right? Thereâs no way in hell that heâd let something like that happen. âYou can go nowâŠâÂ
âNo, youâre not kicking me out again!â He screeched, realizing that he was still standing outside of your apartment and then pushing his way in, closing the door behind him. âCall me stupid, hate me, ignore me⊠Do whatever you have to⊠Just⊠Donât go to someone else. Please. I love you, Iâve always loved you. Your cringy little nicknames that you give me and all your little quirks and habits. I love all of that. I love the way you always sit front row at my games and hold up the little signs that you made yourself and cheer for me⊠Even when Iâm sitting on the bench. Youâre beautiful, and Iâve never felt so fucking idiotic in my life⊠I donât want you to be with anyone else⊠Who is it? Iâll kick his ass for taking you from me.âÂ
Your head shook as you crossed your arms over your chest, your eyes closing as you let out a slow sigh. âWhy does it matter who it is? He didnât take me from you anyway, you were too busy trying to make me jealous and grinding up on some other girl to even notice that he was with me almost all night.â You retorted, and Seungmin saw red, his fists clenching at his sides. It was Felix. His nostrils flared as he turned on his heel without another word, ready to go right back to his place and beat the shit out of Felix⊠That is, until he heard you laughing. He paused, his hand on the doorknob, turning his head to look over his shoulder at you.Â
âWhat? Whatâs funny? You think this is funny?!â It was a mixture of anger, jealousy and sadness that had his voice rising in pitch and volume as he stared at you, but your laughter only got louder as your head fell back, and then you slowly walked over to him, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the door. âSeriously, Y/N. I know itâs Felix. Iâm gonna⊠Fuck! This isnât funny! He knows how I feel about you⊠I canât believe heâd do some shit like this⊠Iâm fucking-â Before he could finish his sentence, your lips were on his, and he was shocked to say the least.Â
When you pulled back, it was like his head was spinning, but in a good way. His cheeks were burning and he knew that you could probably see the blush forming under his skin. âLooks like youâre the one that gets easily jealous⊠Itâs cute⊠You get so angry, like a bear or somethinâ... Gonna start calling you boo boo bear now.â You were teasing him⊠But that meant it was all a joke⊠You didnât like Felix⊠You still liked him.Â
He let out a little growl, playful as he gripped onto your hips and backed you up against the nearest wall, your eyes sparkling in the light that hung on the ceiling as you looked up at him, your cheeks pulling up in a cheeky smile. âYouâre a smartass⊠Youâre lucky I love you, ya know that? Now tell me you love me too, come on. I came all the way over here, was pranked viciously by the girl I love⊠I deserve to be told that Iâm loved.â He pouted at you, a look that he reserved solely for you, but you gave him a quick peck before wiggling out of his hold and running to the other side of the room, your giggling contagious as he chased after you. âJust tell me you love me! Come on!âÂ
âYou have to catch me first!â You squealed, dodging him every time he got close to you, but he knew that youâd run out of breath soon, and he was just waiting for his chance to pounce. He continued to chase you though, loving the sound of your fits of laughter in between heavy breaths. Then your movement got slower, and you dropped down onto the couch, your hands held up in front of you. âTime out real quick!â You were breathless, strands of hair clinging to your sweat beaded forehead, but he didnât follow your rules, and he pounced on you, pinning you down onto the couch, hovering just a few inches above you.Â
Silence hung in the air, the only sound was that of his racing heart in his own ears and your panting from beneath him. It had his mind wandering, but he needed to stay focused, he needed to hear you say it. âI wonâŠâ He could barely get his voice above a whisper, his throat dry from exerting so much energy. âDo I get my reward now?âÂ
Your hands moved up to brush the hair out of his face, lifting yourself up just slightly to press a kiss to his lips, it had more meaning behind it though, it was deeper, it lasted longer, and he melted into it, his own lips moving against yours in perfect synch. Once your head fell back against the pillows, you looked almost drunk, your eyes slightly hazy, your pupils dilated as you looked up at him. âI love you, Seungmin⊠So muchâŠâ You murmured, and at those words he finally let himself collapse, his head resting against your chest, listening to the thrum of your heartbeat as your fingers pet through his hair. âNow youâre my boyfriend boo boo, right?âÂ
âMmhm⊠and youâre my girlfriend⊠g-... my girlfriend goo goo? No? Give me some time. Either way, youâre mine.âÂ
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hiii !!
this is my first time requesting smth so sorry if Iâm not making sense !! đ
can u do jjk boys / men with short reader ?? can u also include megumi ?
thank you !
SHORTIE â JJK MEN + SHORT PARTNER
featuring. megumi fushiguro, toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, nanami kento x reader
warnings. none
note. hii jelly!! don't worry love you're doing great, and thank you for requesting! sorry it took so long :( i hope you like this. also, guys, omg you don't know how thankful i am to reach 500+ followers in a short amount of time, i'm going to sob. i love you all so much <;33
MEGUMI FUSHIGURO. i feel like he doesn't mind at all, he did say his type was someone with an unshakable character â so he could obviously care less about your height. in fact, he'd be pretty much delighted, he finds you adorable (but let's face it, he'd never tell that to your face).
it sounds cliche but megumi would be the one to help you get things from higher places, and when he can't reach them either â he'd carry you up his shoulders to let you grab it. if there's one other thing that he loves besides your personality, it's your height.
so when anyone tries to bring you down with that, megumi would definitely be up to defend you; saying there's no problem with your height and how much he likes that about you.
"what're you talking about? they look just fine." megumi mutters out, scratching the back of his head, his eyes averting to the side.
"so what if they're short? why does that matter?"
"'t doesn't matter what you think, i like them, so what?"
just, he's always going to defend you about your height so the next second you feel conscious about it â he's going to ask you if anyone said anything, and if you said yes (he'll make sure to find out who it is behind your back), and if you said no (he'll tell you how much he loves you, your height, and everything about you).
TOJI FUSHIGURO. big tease, will definitely make fun of your for it, he calls you "shortie", it's just his default nickname for you. the first time het met you, he's just decided that he'd go with the name "shortie" instead of "y/n".
he's going to ask you to grab something for him, and when you realized it's something out of reach, it's just his act to make fun of you, "hey shortie, grab my favorite mug for me."
and when you opened the mug cabinet, his mug is just sitting on the very top â you looked at him with a defeated smile and let out a laugh. he would always end up taking it for himself, patting your head on the way with a satisfied laughter.
though sometimes, you feel a little self-conscious when he makes fun of your for your height, and toji would caught up to it almost immediately.
"what's up, shortie? why'd you look so sad, hm?"
"am i really that short?" he cocked his eyebrow and hummed out, signaling that it's a yes indeed. but he scoffs after.
"so what?" he mutters out, laying his hand on top of your head before walking away, don't worry it's just his way of telling you he loves you. you'd feel so much better after that.
that's why he kept calling you shortie, no matter how self-conscious you get, he ends up encouraging you about it. so he never bothered stopping (and he never thought of stopping the nickname).
GOJO SATORU. like toji, i feel like gojo is a big tease as well. he absolutely loves your height, he's a tall man, and having such a short partner is a fun thing to him. he loves making fun of you (in a cute way) â and so you didn't mind it at all, since you know that gojo didn't mean it literally.
"oh, i didn't see you there! you're so small i could just step on you." he marvels out with a toothy grin before scooping you into his embrace.
with that being said, gojo absolutely loves carrying you on top of his shoulders, and when he has the chance to, he won't waste the chance to ask you how it feels like to be so much taller. you always comply with his jokes as well so he loves teasing you a lot, cause you give out reactions to him.
"how does it feel to be tall?" he asks you, hand gripping on your hips, holding you in place so you wouldn't fall.
"not bad, definitely could feel the heat up here, must suck being so close to the sun," you replied back, patting his head gently and gojo chuckles, letting you down.
being short isn't so bad when you have a giant to protect you from the heat, he's like your personal umbrella. so, you weren't going to complain about it at all.
also, gojo wouldn't let you talk bad about your height. he's your number one fan, don't tell me otherwise.
NANAMI KENTO. he absolutely adores you. he loves how his shirt looks big on you, he loves how small you look next to him, he loves how you always use him as a shield for anything, he just loves you.
most of the time, you'd feel a little bad about your height â but nanami would tell you how it doesn't matter and how much he loves you. he has his ways of showing his love to you and your height. nanami would sometimes use you as a place to rest his arm, at first you thought he was making fun of you, but he wasn't and i guess it's now just a normal thing for the both of you.
nanami loves tucking your head under his chin when you're both relaxing, watching a movie, cooking, anything â he just loves pulling you close and laying his chin on top of your head. he tells you it feels comfortable, and so that has also been a normal thing for the both of you.
having a small height means teeny tiny body parts. your hands, especially; he's in love with how small they are compared to his. how your hand always tugs on his shirt when you're out, he's hand would engulf yours completely, and he makes sure you're well taken care of when you both go out (it would be hard if you'd get lost in the crowd).
one thing he adores is a habit that you always do when he's busy. of course you wanted attention, and when you wanted his attention â he'd find you tugging at his shirt, his suit, his hand with your own while muttering out a, "boyfriend, boyfriend".
he's just so in love with you and everything about you, and with that, you've slowly come to love your own height. thanks to him.
© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !
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Hello.
I have a question to ask. Are you up for a honeymoon fic Landoscar? With a lot of spicy things, hehe.
<3
When Oscar and Lando had woken up severely hungover that first morning after getting married at the Vegas GP, they knew they had made the right choice.
The only problem was how the hell they were going to go on their honeymoon without arousing suspicion.
Gonna go waterboard myself in holy water now brb
Warnings: Lando makes Oscar cry, but in a sexy way, sunburns, handjob, thatâs it that's the plot, under negotiated everything, edging, Oscar being in denial, cum, facial, they're both fucking freaks
They got married on 20/11/2023 at 4:12 AM in the little Vegas Chapel after the Grand Prix. It was perfect (they barely remembered it) and the only people there were Alex and Logan (the best men) and the priest (who they had to track down later and make him sign an NDA).
All in all a brilliant night.
And the proof of consummation was⊠well, all over them and the sheets when they woke up.
How fucking romantic.
It was now a year on from that and they still hadn't been on their honeymoon.
They were determined though. But being in the public eye made any vacationing together quite hard.
So they decided to wait. Wait long enough that if they were seen, it would be reasonable to assume it was just a mates trip to a private Island.
They were currently on said private Island one morning, limbs tangled on a sunbed, sipping some pretty strong cocktails.
âWhat do you want to do today?â
âI don't care as long as I'm with youâ
They giggled and a slap resounded on the empty beach.
âI hate youâ
âThat's not what you were saying last night when I had you-â
âOkay okay! I get it!â
Disgusting.
After another hour of lounging around, Lando untangled his limbs from Oscar's and got up to get more drinks.
âYou want anoth- holy shit Osc!â
His eyes widened as he turned and took in his husbandâs (he'd never get tired of saying that) appearance.
âWhat?â Oscar sat up, confused.
Oscarâs front was a similar shade of red as a lobster, the contrast in skin between his front and back making him look like a vanilla strawberry ice cream.
âOscar you-â Lando couldn't contain his laughter âyou forgot to put cream on again!â
Lando put his hand on Oscar's thigh and Oscar gasped in pain.
âShit baby we need to go put something on that, let's goâ
Oscar ended up laying on his back while Lando straddled his midsection and rubbed Aloe over his face and chest.
âAh!â he hissed as a hand went over a patch of particularly red skin âcareful where you put your bear paws!â
Lando laughed and squirted some more cream on his hands.
âSorry baby, but it needs to be done. Besides you love my bear paws, especially when I put them on your-â
âJesus, do you ever shut up!â Oscar laughed and Lando gasped at his meanness.
âDon't be mean to me when I'm helping you out!â
Oscarâs hands came up to cup Lando's ass over his shorts and squeeze lightly.
âYou love it when I'm mean though, don't lie.â
âOh yeah?â Lando smiled playfully âI can be mean too you knowâ
Oscar couldn't help the snort that escaped him. âYeah right, I'll believe that when I see it, youâre just too sweetâ
âI am not!â he tried to defend but Oscar just laughed at him âYou just haven't seen my bad side, yetâ
Oscar cackled and shot a look of disbelief at Lando.
Lando raised his eyebrows in challenge and shuffled backwards onto Oscar's thighs, making sure to rub against his crotch on the way.
âShut up and let me finish putting the cream onâ he scowled as he squirted a load straight onto Oscar's hot skin moodily.
âAw⊠are you getting stroppy now because I laughed at you, baby?â Oscar cooed, hands reaching for Lando but he slapped them away.
âTouche me, or say another word, and I stop completely, understand?â
Oscar nodded, eyebrows almost fused with his hairline at Lando's harsh tone.
âAnd we'll see just how fucking mean I can beâ the older man growled.
Well shit.
Lando quickly rubbed cream over Oscar's burns, before sitting back and ordering him to take his shorts off.
âPardon?â Oscar wasn't used to being ordered around.
âIf I have to repeat myself then I'll take them off, and Iâm not going to be gentleâ
That's a point, Oscar thought. He didn't want to take any chances with the burns so he peeled them off himself, making sure to give his skin a wide birth.
Once settled back into the sheets, Lando grabbed more cream and started rubbing it around Oscar's crotch, which was unnecessary given that the skin there was free of burns thanks to his shorts. But Lando apparently decided to turn this into a massage, because he was digging his thumbs into Oscarâs flesh, hard enough to make him groan at the feeling.
Then he dug his thumbs into Oscar's adductor muscles and the younger man yelped and stared daggers at him.
âWhat's the matter, baby?â Lando asked mockingly, âAm I going too hard for you?â
His eyes were inviting him to a challenge, one he knew Oscar wouldn't back down from.
Oscar shook his head, remembering Lando's warning from before, and quickly settled back down.
This was a new side to Lando. And it was getting Oscar a bit hot and bothered as his husband just carried on massaging/torturing him. The idea of being at his husband's mercy was turning him on enormously.
His dick twitched against his stomach and Lando chuckled.
âCareful Osc, one could think being submissive is turning you onâ his voice was full of mirth but Oscar refused to acknowledge him, and stared at the ceiling while shaking his head.
âNo? Must be mistaken thenâ
He continued along Oscar's groin, massaging the cream in and rubbing him in all the right places.
When Lando cupped his balls and pressed on his perineum at the same time, Oscar let out a strangled gasp.
He was dripping, he could feel it. But he refused to give Lando the satisfaction of asking him to touch him.
âYou want me to stop Osc?â Lando had a teasing lilt to his voice. Oscar shook his head.
âIf you want me to touch you all you have to do is be a good boy and say âpleaseâ
But Oscar, by some twisted sense of ego, refused to give in so he didn't answer.
Lando laughed softly and ran a finger up Oscar's cock, making the younger man shudder and his hips buck up of their own volition.
âThat looks painful, Oscâ
âThen fucking touch itâ
Landoâs eyebrows shot up in surprise. âNot until you say pleaseâ
âPleaseâ Oscar huffed out.
Lando tutted. âThat wasn't very convincing, Osc.â His fingers ran along the tip and back down over his balls, but Oscar just about managed to stay impassive. He looked right into Lando's eyes.
âIf you want me to say please you're going to have to do better than thatâ
Lando grinned like a Cheshire cat.
âOh honey, I'm not going to stop until you're beggingâ
The look in his eyes was predatory and Oscar almost caved then and there.
But on principal, Oscar did not beg.
Cut to about 30 minutes later and Oscar was whimpering into his arm as Lando placed kitten licks on his dripping tip.
âStill not desperate enough to say please?â
Oscar just growled ânopeâ but it was so strained Lando barely heard it.
âFine, maybe I need to try a different approach, thenâ
Oscar looked on as Lando grabbed the cream and squirted some straight onto Oscarâs cock.
Oscar hissed at the cold, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Lando's large hand engulfing his cock and immediately starting a fast, tight, pace.
Oscar was writhing at the sudden intense pleasure after so long being teased, and he was having trouble getting air in his lungs as he hurdled towards an orgasm in record time.
His toes curled and his back arched as he felt the orgasm creep up his spine.
But just like that the feeling was replaced by a very tight hold around the base of his cock, the release his body craved ripped away from him.
âNo! Lan-â
âShhh, babyâ Lando cooed âIt's okay, Iâve got youâ
While Oscar slowly came down from his almost-release, Lando reapplied some cream to make the slide as wet as possible, then proceeded to start stroking Oscar at the same pace as before, this time adding extra pressure.
Oscar was openly whining now, hands gripping the sheets so hard itâs shocking they weren't tearing.
âNow, I'm going to do that over and over again until youâre a good boy for me, okayâ
Oscar couldn't contain the whine that came out of his mouth. He was getting close again and his eyes were filling up with tears at the white hot pleasure.
âPleaseâ he let out a broken sob as his thighs started clenching with his impending orgasm.
âOh you can do better than that, Oscâ Landoâs pace didn't falter.
âFuck- please Lan, I'll do anything. I need to come so bad, please, please. Please don't stopâŠâ he was openly sobbing now, tears running down his cheeks as he took shuddering breaths.
He was so beautiful and pliant like this, Lando was unbelievably hard. He took pity on him and allowed him to come, other hand going to massage his balls for good measure.
âGood boy, Oscar. You can come now, go on.â
Oscar screamed as he came, hot spurts of his come landing over his abs and all the way up to his chin.
The sight of him, covered in his own cum, flush deepening the red of his burns, gasping for air, almost made Lando come on the spot.
He shuffled over to Oscar's head and pushed his shorts down to jerk himself off furiously.
âOpen your mouth, tongue outâ he ordered, grabbing Oscarâs jaw and aiming for his tongue.
It took him no time at all to come, and most of it landed on Oscar's cheeks and chin. It was absolutely sinful, the way his face was streaked with come, tongue hanging out, eyes unfocused, he looked like a sick man's dream.
Fortunately, Lando was a sick man.
âShit Osc, I can't believe it took me this long to find out youâre a good little slut when you want to beâ
Oscar took a long time to reply, trying to regulate his breathing.
When he finally did, a low growl came from his side of the bed.
âAs soon as I get the feeling back in my legs, I'm going to fuck you until the sun sets, and I'm not giving you any breaks, no matter how many times you comeâ
Lando glanced at the clock.
It was only 1 pmâŠ
Shit.
#my thots#lando thots#oscar thots#lando norris#oscar piastri#landoscar#landoscar smut#lando norris smut#oscar piastri smut#f1#formula 1#ask#request
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I NEED HEAD CANONS ON PERVBEST FRIEND GOJO AND GETO, MAYBE WITH SOME TAG TEAMINGđ«Łđ«Łđ«Łđ«Ł gojo sticking his hand in your bra(with consent) cause heâs,oh!so cold, and your just so so warm. Geto taking questionable pictures of you, your Twinkie had to much cream in it and it oozed on your face, before you even had the chance to wipe the cream off, he takes a picture, all in good âfunâ, Geto and Gojo sharing a collection of photos of you. Maybe they came over to your apartment, after a bit hanging out, you go to get food for the 3 of you, one of them gets curious and starts snooping in your room only to find your vibrator or panties, and maybe just maybe they take it with them after you guys get done hanging out, sharing it with each other cause thatâs what best friends do! Iâm so sorry this is so horny, I was thinking with my choochie đđđđ
Okay so first of all I definitely DID NOT expect so many people to vote on my poll so thanks for that đâđ» and over ÂŒ of you voted for Satosugu tag team so I am here to deliver :^) I changed some things but I hope you still enjoy and I sincerely thank your coochie for coming up with this đ«¶đ» I too must admit that I was writing this with all of my pussy
Thank you for your take!!<3
<3masterlist<3
~kind of long(?) drabble~ Strictly 18+ Minors DNI
TW: pervy roommates&bff!satosugu, questionable consent at some parts but it's all good in the end, panty stealing, groping, vaginal double penetration, nipple play, marking, biting, hickeys, noncon picture taking, jerking off, it's just very messy and nasty, they start off very mean but they actually really do like you a lot<3, use of good girl, baby, angel, smut with fluff, aftercare
When your two best friends first suggested moving in together you didn't think much of it. You've known each other for a long time and they've always been very kind and helpful. You hang out together all the time anyway, so of course you said yes! And the first few weeks were fine, but then you noticed panties going missing and when you asked them if they saw them anywhere, they just shrugged blaming the washing machine/dryer. Sus, but you didn't think much of it, you trusted them.
You did notice them getting more touchy with you though. Their hands straying to your boobs and ass when they hugged you around the house. The first time Satoru put his hand in your bra you told him off but he just whined that his hands were so cold and you were so warm. Sus. They made you sit on their laps, especially when you were eating something cream filled, bouncing their leg and catching you off guard smearing the cream all over your face. As you went so wipe it off they stopped you, only to stick their fingers in your mouth and snap a quick pic.
And if you dared to speak up they shushed you and said that it's just friends having fun with each other. "Relax, it's not that serious." You thought it was quite serious, but you kept that to yourself for the sake of your friendship. They surely cared about you a lot, right?
Oh boy you had no idea just how much they cared about you. They were highkey obsessed. They obviously always liked you a lot, that's why you were friends afterall. But after moving in with you they realized that they liked you way more than they were anticipating. Of course it was them who stole your panties, breathing in your scent and using the fabric to jerk their throbbing cocks off. And the just for fun pictures they took, oh they had a whole album of them. You didn't even notice most of them being taken. And they made sure to always exchange them with each other if they got some new material.
During movie nights they had you squished between their bodies, one of them softly caressing and squeezing the fat of your thighs, while the other was playing with the hem of your tiny shorts. They liked to think that you wore them especially for them, exchanging knowing grins while your eyes were focused on the tv screen in front of you.
You were just too cute not to tease. Especially when your breath hitched as their fingers got dangerously close to your core. Or when you were clutching onto their shirts when their hot breath and lips hit your neck making you squirm. And after the first time they made you cum, they knew they were hooked. And when they finally had sex with you for the first time, they swore they fell in love. You were so cute and obedient and just so so soft. They loved watching you squirm as you tried to take them like a good girl. To your surprise, most of the time they were really gentle with you while praising you throughout their thrusts.
They both fucked you on their own the first time, but slowly tried to get you used to them both being there. The first few times it was one of them fucking you while the other just watched, dick throbbing in their hand and finishing with cumming on your face or tits. They were also very big on aftercare, spoiling you with anything you needed and praising you for taking them like a champ.
But one day they just couldn't help themselves and thought of a pretty little surprise for you. Suguru told you that he had to leave to run some errands, leaving you alone with Satoru, which ended with you on your side while Satoru was pounding into you from behind on your shared bed.
"'Toruuu~ feel so good you're so deep- ah"
"Yeah? Feels good right, look I'm in your fucking tummy, baby. You're so tiny. 'Can feel myself all the way in there", he whispered as he splayed his hand out over your lower stomach, kissing along the expanse of your neck.
You were too caught up in the moment to even pay attention that Suguru had not left at all and was listening to both of you through the closed door, already undressed waiting for his cue.
"Baby?"
"Hmm?", you mewled arching your back as he played with one of your hardened nipples.
"Can you keep your eyes closed for me for a bit? I want to try something out. Oh, and lift your leg a bit. Thats it, good girl", he praised while holding your leg up by the knee. The new angle making you feel light headed.
You were too fucked out to notice the door opening and closing as a certain someone slipped inside the room. He had to hold back a gasp when he saw you splayed out like this. Completely bare, looking insanely soft and spread wide open just for them. Satoru and him exchanged a look and he slowly made his way over to where the two of you were laying. When the bed dipped under his weight next to you, your eyes opened.
"Hi pretty," he pecked your lips.
"Nnngh Suguru are you back already? I thought you were- ah", you gasped as Satoru rolled his hips into you expertly.
"I never left, angel. We wanted to surprise you."
"Surprise me how?" you questioned mouth slightly hanging open and pupils blown wide open.
"We think you're ready to take us both. Would you like to try that, hm? If it hurts too bad we can stop."
You hesitated. Take them both? How? Your questions were answered as you felt Suguru's member prod at your etrance.
"I don't think I can-"
"Oh sure you can, you're so wet. Don't worry, we'll make it fit. You're such a big girl, I'm sure you can take two cocks in your pussy. It's gonna feel so good, I promise."
You were skeptical, but the thought did make you gush around Satoru. He kissed your neck for reassurance as Suguru went to cup your breast, fondling it softly. You felt so nervous, but safe at the same time. You trusted them, so you nodded your head letting out a breathless, "Okay, I'm ready."
"We'll take this slow, we got you."
The first stretch almost make you scream as you slung your arm around Suguru, scratching his back in the process while hiding in the crook of his neck
As soon as they both bottomed out he whispered against your hair, "Shhh it's fine, you're fine. Tell us when you're ready for us to move."
You took a couple of deep breaths trying to adjust to the extreme stretch. After a while you finally nodded and they slowly picked up their pace.
Suguru tried to kiss your pain away swallowing all of your whines in a deep kiss.
"You're doing so well for us, such a good girl.", Satoru whispered against the nape of your neck. And as you felt tears swelling, Suguru made sure to wipe them away smiling at you gently.
After a while it did start feeling incredible you were huffing and puffing as they both moved in sync stuffing you to the brim.
"Feels good", you moaned against Suguru's lips, "more, want more!" And it made you squirm as you felt Satoru suck a deep hickey into the side of your neck.
"Such a greedy girl. But see, I promised we'd make you feel good."
"Yeah, you're so tight and wet for us, good girl. Such a good girl for taking two big cocks so well."
"Want you to fill me up.. please and 'want to cum! Want to cum on your perfect cocks, please make me cum."
Your moans really got to their heads as they picked up the pace fucking into you harder than before.
"Yeah? Wanna cum? Of course we're gonna make you cum, how could we not if you beg so nicely."
"And we're gonna fill you up to the brim, make you nice and plump." with that Satoru moved his hand from your leg to your clit, rubbing thick circles into it, which made you see stars. They were hitting all of the right spots and you felt yourself getting close.
"'m gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna-!!"
And you swore you saw hearts in Suguru's eyes as soon as you clamped down on their cock, creaming all over them and letting out the lewdest moan they have ever heard you make.
"Ah, holy shit. So good, you're so good for us. Oh my god." Suguru praised as they both continued to fuck you through your high, Satoru's fingers not leaving your clit. You felt yourself get overstimulated as you grabbed onto Suguru's arms digging your nails into them.
"'S too much I can't, I can't-"
"Shh you're almost there, you got it, just a little more."
You bit down on your lip, moaning in the rhythm of their thrusts. But you definitely didn't expect another orgasm to come your way.
"Shit! I think I'm gonna cum again, please don't stop 'Toru.. please dont!!"
"Like hell I would!", he slurred. His arm was starting to burn from the tension, but his rhythm didn't falter, rubbing you through your second high.
And at the feeling if your your tight cunt convulsing around their cocks they lost themselves, filling you up to the brim with their warm cum.
"Oh god I'm so full, it's all the way in my womb, gooood" you cried against Suguru's shoulder as he pulled you close and kissed the top of your head.
Satoru kissed the back of your head as the three of you stayed like this for a while, basking in each other's warmth.
You were the first to break the silence, trying to peel yourself from their grasps, "Okay enough.. ah I feel so sticky and uncomfy", you whined. They only chuckled at you being so adorable. Eventually, Satoru was the first to pull out and get up from the bed.
"I'll go make a bath ready and get you a glass of water."
You nodded with a weak smile, feeling Suguru pull out of you as well, but still keeping your body close while stroking your hair.
"Were you comfortable? Did it hurt a lot?"
"At first yes, it hurt quite a bit..", you sighed. "But then it felt really good, I liked it a lot. Thank you for the surprise."
Suguru chuckled against your head, "You're welcome, glad you liked it. I'm very proud of you by the way. You did such a good job."
You felt your cheeks heat up at his praise, but you let out a groan at his next words.
"Sooo.. any positions you'd like to try next?"
And with perfect timing Satoru walked right in on your conversation. "Are you plotting a round two without me??!, he fake gasped, which only earned him a pillow right in his face, almost spilling the glass of water he brought for you.
"Definitely not right now!!"
But it also made you smile at how well you all got along, you were definitely looking forward to your future with them.
-----
Feel free to send me your Hot Takes as well ^^
#takes with niniâĄ#jjk smut#jjk x reader#gojo smut#jjk headcanons#satoru smut#suguru smut#suguru x reader#geto x reader#geto smut#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#satosugu x reader#satosugu smut#satosugu#jjk x you#jjk scenarios#jjk drabbles#gojo x geto x reader#gojo x geto x you#satoru x suguru x reader#geto x gojo x reader#gojo x reader x geto#geto x reader x gojo
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Darlin' pt 5
pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3 / pt 4 / pt6
Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (Slowburn romance)
Description: Cooper starts to soften up.
Notes: This one is a bit longer! I might be a little slower between parts from now on as it is finals season and I'll be graduating with my bachelor's degree (yay!) plus I work full time. As always, any critiques are welcome!
The air between us after the hug attempt was thick with tension. We walked in silence as we made our way into the wasteland, clear tracks in the sand making the target easy to follow. I was sure that the look on my face was pathetic, like a kicked puppy. I tried to hide my hurt at first, but it didn't seem like he cared much since he had hardly even glanced at me since we left Ma June's shop anyway. At least I had Whilzig's dog. I knew he was just there to help us track his master, but his presence felt comforting. Without him, I think the tension between Cooper and I would be too much to handle.Â
I glanced over at the ghoul every so often. I was hoping I would catch him glancing back, a sign that he did in fact, give a damn about me. I felt deflated. Any hope I had about his feelings for me had vanished.Â
I let a quiet sigh escape my lips as I looked down at my feet.Â
This seemed to get his attention as he stopped in his tracks and whipped around to face me. "Stop it." He said sternly, a look of annoyance on his face.
I was sure that my face did little to hide the horror I felt at his reaction. "I am just tired." I tried to lie.
"Sure." He said back, crossing his arms. He clearly knew I was lying.
I felt anger prickle up inside me. "Why are you looking at me like I did something wrong? I didn't." I exclaimed. "I hugged my friend. At least I thought I did."
He didn't respond to this, instead opting to look out into the never-ending sand.
"Let's just keep going," I mumbled as I stomped past him.
Growing up I loved the sun. I loved to feel its warm rays on my skin as it shined through the window. Now? Now I hated it. We had barely been in the Wasteland that long, and I already felt like the heat was suffocating me. It didn't seem to bother Cooper though. He showed no sign of tiring or discomfort. "One of the perks of being a ghoul I guess." I thought to myself bitterly.
After what felt like ages, our furry companion barked and started running towards a large piece of metal. Cooper and I exchanged looks before picking up our pace to catch up to him.Â
"What the hell?" I mumbled as I pinched my nose and looked away from the headless body.
Cooper crouched down next to Whilzig, a look of mild confusion on his face before looking out into the wasteland. One of his coughing fits started as he took his pack off of his shoulder and put it on the ground, rummaging through it. He found what he was looking for quickly, a metal tin with a couple of vials of Jet inside. Despite being angry with him, I looked down at him, concern evident on my face. Almost like he could sense it, he looked up at me as he put the vial into his inhaler. His eyes closed and a look of relief washed over his face as he breathed it in. He let out one more soft wheeze as he collected himself.Â
"Cooper?" I asked softly.Â
"Yeah, Darlin'?" He replied while getting up from the ground.
"I'm sorry." I started. "I am sorry for huggin' you. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
His eyes bore into me while he contemplated his response. "You're okay Darlin'." He said quietly. "I am just an ill-tempered old man."
I let out a small giggle. "I would've said cranky, but ill-tempered is a nicer way to put it."
He let out a loud bark of a laugh in response. "Come on let's go find the rest of im'." He said as he patted my shoulder.
As we started to walk away from the body, Cooper let out a clicking noise, getting the dog's attention. The dog barked in response as he chased after us.
"How old are you anyway?" I ask curiously.
He hummed in response, "Old."
I decided not to press it further, his short response suggesting it wasn't something he wanted to discuss. This time, our silent march was much more pleasant. The tension from earlier was gone. I was exceeding grateful for this change. As the sun started to set, I felt relieved. The heat didn't feel quite as terrible as the sun started to fade behind the horizon.
"Good a spot as any," Cooper said as he peaked inside a half-crumbled building.Â
I sighed in relief. "God my feet are killing me. I think I've done more walkin' with you than I have in my entire life."
He let out a breathy laugh, "And you are gonna do a lot more, sugar."
It didn't take long for me to fall asleep in the sand curled up next to Whilzig's dog.
-
I slowly peeled my eyes open as I felt someone gently shaking me. My bleary eyes peered up to see the face of my traveling companion.
"Mornin' Darlin'." He smirked at my dazed and exhausted face. "Sleep well?"
I just grumbled in response. I slowly raised to my feet, wincing as the pressure on them began to build. I felt his eyes on me as he raised his bag to his shoulder. I sighed as I reached down to pick up my bag as well.Â
"When we get this bounty, I am gonna sleep for a week." I say with a soft groan.
"Gimme that." He said as he ripped my bag from my hands and threw it over his empty shoulder. He chuckled at the surprised look on my face. "Can't have your pretty ass slowin' me down."
I stood there for a moment and replayed our exchange in my head before finally running after him. "He keeps calling me pretty." I think to myself while a blush creeps over my cheeks.
"You know," I started, feeling bold. "I think we are a great team."
He glanced over at me, an amused look on his face. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I hummed happily. "I am really glad I met you."Â
An unrecognizable look washed over his face. Hesitation? Confusion? Fear? It looked like all of those emotions, all at once.
I gave him a weary smile, "Even if you won't let me hug you." I admit.
He hesitated, almost looking like he was going to say something before he stopped himself.Â
"Hey, Dog Meat!" He yelled up at the dog, "Don't go far."
"Dog Meat?" I mused, "Really?"
"That's what he is, ain't he?" he replied, smirking.
I knew he was trying to change the subject. He was uncomfortable again. So, I decided to let him as I let out a small giggle. "Sure, Cooper."
We continued along, getting closer and closer to the derelict city. The silence was only interrupted by the occasional bark from Dog Meat. We happened upon an oasis, the water inviting, almost trying to trick me into taking a dip. I knew better than that. We could hear a commotion in front of us as we started to slow down, quieting our footsteps. Cooper turned to me and put a finger to his lips, silently shushing me. Someone else was there. The bounty?
 No, it was the vaultie. I stayed behind as Cooper snuck up behind her. She only noticed his presence once she heard the cock of his gun.
"Hello again." She said, her eyes filled with fear.
He greeted her by hitting her over the head with the butt of his gun. I grimaced as she fell to the ground.Â
"Where is it?" He snarled. "The head."
She whimpered on the ground quietly while Cooper picked up her bag and emptied the contents into the dirt.
Cooper got angry as he realized the head wasn't there. He cocked his gun again, ready to shoot her.Â
"Okay, okay, I don't know where it is. Okay? I lost it." The vaultie begged. "I lost it."
Cooper let out a soft hum as he looked around, it seemed like he already knew what he was looking for when he put his boot in a pile of dung. I made a disgusted face.
"Did you seriously have to do that?" I mumbled. This brought the vaultie's attention to me. She was so caught up in her fear of Cooper she didn't even realize I was there.
"A gulper got it, huh?" He said as he turned back to the vaultie before grabbing her by the hair.Â
She cried as she begged for mercy as he dragged her to the dock. Once there, he tied a rope with an anchor on the end around her body as well as bound her feet. I just watched from afar, feeling slightly bad for the girl. Dog Meat was barking so loudly I could hardly hear them.
"Stop! Please!" She begged as she wiggled, trying to break free. "My dad, he's an overseer. He got taken by Raiders and I need that head to get him back. If you help me find him, he'll do whatever you want!"
Instead of responding, Cooper just pushed her into the water. The rope she was bound with was connected to a piece of metal I did not recognize, but it kept her from sinking to the bottom. She splashed around as she panicked.Â
"Stop! Stop! Torture is wrong!" She cried out when he brought her back up out of the water.
Cooper let out a scoff. "You know, they used to do these things called studies. Why, you couldn't open a newspaper without reading about one study or another. Anyways, one particular study came out and it said torturing a person, don't do shit." He replied as he dropped her back into the water briefly before bringing her up again. "It made sense. I mean a man hurts me? I wouldn't want to do him any favors. And yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from this earth. In fact, as time marches on, I've personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board." He continued as he picked off a small creature from her back and fed it to Dog Meat.
"Sir, please. I need the head. It's the only way I can get my father back." The vaultie begged again. I admired her spirit. I debated asking Cooper to stop, but I bit my tongue instead.
"My point is," Cooper replied, ignoring her pleas. "If you ask me, them studies, they were right. Torturing a person don't do shit."
"Then why are you doing this?" She asked, exasperated.Â
"Well, I ain't torturing you, sweetheart. I'm using you as bait." He explained before dunking her in the water again. I hated to admit it, but I felt a tiny bit of jealousy in my chest at the nickname. I knew I shouldn't be jealous, he obviously held little love for her.
Cooper started to whistle as he got closer to the edge of the dock like he was beckoning something near. It was at this point that I realized I had been slowly inching closer to them this whole time as my feet finally met the dock.
"What is a gulper?" I asked Cooper curiously.
"A monster, darlin'. Careful." He said, realizing how close I was getting to the water. He grabbed his knife off the wooden box he put it on earlier and tied a rope around it. He clearly had a plan.
The vaultie started crying out in the water and flailing around even more than usual. This caused Cooper to try and lift her out of the water again, but the machine he was using was stuck.Â
"Cooper!" I cried out, realizing she was going to drown.
He sprang into action as he grabbed a hook, moving the entire machine to pull her out. As she was pulled onto the dock, a giant pink creature followed her. He was right. That was a monster. I ran up to the vaultie and grabbed her shoulders as I tried to pull her away, but the anchor tied around her was stuck in the gulper's mouth. She kicked at the creature violently as Cooper stuck it with his knife. The gulper got ahold of her leg and swung her around, pushing me into the water. I thrashed around as I tried to find something to hold onto.Â
"Cooper!" I yelled before I finally was able to grasp ahold of the dock. I could hear the tussle above me and the gulper finally cry out and fall back into the water.Â
I could hear Cooper gasping for air as he crawled over to me. "Give me your hand, sugar."
I quickly did as I was told. He pulled me out of the water and onto the dock with ease. He got up and looked out into the water, wincing as he realized the head was gone once again.
"Cooper," I said softly. "Your bag."
He moved swiftly, going straight for his tin of Jet. At the realization that it was completely crushed he pointed his gun back at the vaultie.
"Motherfucker!" He shouted angrily.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I should've just let you use me as bait in a poison river!" The vaultie yelled back.
Cooper lowered his gun before turning back around to the water. "Fuck!" He screamed.
I finally stood up and waddled my way over to him. My clothes were soaked, uncomfortably sticking to my skin. This caught his attention, he put his hand on my cheek as he briefly scanned my body, looking for injuries. "I am fine." I hummed, my heart squeezing in my chest at his show of affection. It wasn't much, but it showed how much he cared.
"You can't treat people like this!" The vaultie interrupted.
"Yeah, why's that?" Cooper asked, his mind obviously elsewhere.Â
"Because of the golden rule." She said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Do unto others as you would have done unto you."
I gave her an amused look as I let out a small laugh. "The golden rule, huh? I don't think he follows that."
"Those gulpers digest real slow. You got time." Cooper said to himself.
I put the hand on his shoulder reassuringly, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked at me for a second before hurrying over to pick up our bags. "We gotta go." He pulled out his lasso and made his way to the vaultie.
"No. no, no, no, no." She begged as he put it around her neck. "Where are we going? What about the head? I need the head to get my dad back."
"Yeah, well, the wasteland's got its own golden rule," Cooper replied, dragging her along.
"Yeah, what's that?" She asked.
"Thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time." Cooper sighed.
"What about the dog?" I asked, scurrying after him.
"He ain't ours." He responded curtly.
I frowned at him. I had gotten attached to Dog Meat, but the determined expression on Cooper's face kept me quiet. Wherever we were going, it was important.
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#cooper howard#the ghoul fallout#cooper howard x reader#fallout tv series#the ghoul x reader#fallout
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