#I really just took a what if in my brain and ran with it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

not-neverland06 · 3 months ago

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broken promises

pt two

bodyguard!logan howlett x congressman's daughter!reader

a/n: the fact that he was canonically a bodyguard makes me absolutely insane someone congratulate me, I finally figured out how to make my own dividers Summary: He's learned from past mistakes that no matter how tempting the girl is, it's better not to get involved. He just needs some cash, he doesn't give a fuck how pretty you are. He doesn't care about you. He makes it clear he wants nothing to do with you besides seeing you sign his check. But, is that really all he wants? You're not blind to the way he looks at you. 18+ MDNI Shameless smut at the end, I'm not sorry about it at all.

Logan had gotten used to this. The long drawn-out wait to meet with the man who wanted to hire him. He always arrived right on time, not a moment earlier. They all had the same game they liked to play.

The secretary would greet him, a pretty girl in her 20s that the men were screwing or trying to screw. Then they would make him sit in the lobby for half an hour. They’d apologize by pushing the blame on someone else, saying a meeting had gone on too long. But there wasn’t a meeting. There never was.

They liked to make themselves seem more important than they were. It was a power game, an intimidation tactic that he had always scoffed at. He didn’t give a fuck what government ties they had or otherwise. He just wanted his paycheck.

This one was no different. A congressman who had only recently begun to make waves when he started up an anti-mutant agenda. Ironic that he had specifically requested Logan for the very thing he was trying to eradicate.

There was a buzz and then the secretary was picking up her phone. She spared Logan a fleeting glance before whispering something into the receiver. She looked over at him and he already knew what she was going to say. “He’s ready for you now.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” she gave him a coquettish smile as he made his way towards the large office at the end of the hall. The door was closed when he reached it, three quick knocks and then a quiet Come in.

The man didn’t even look up to greet him. He continued signing something on his desk. Logan took a seat in one of the chairs, waiting for another few minutes before he was deemed important enough to address. He received a tight smile and narrowed eyes as the man took in the way he was dressed.

He never dressed up for these things. He’d learned a while ago that a suit wasn’t going to get him any further than his leather jacket was. Might as well be comfortable while talking to these pricks.

“Had a phone call with an associate of mine. Ran on longer than I meant it to.” Always an excuse, never an apology.

Logan scoffed and shrugged. “I was fine.”

The man sniffed, “I’m sure. Look, I’ll cut straight to the chase. You come highly recommended by my peers and I need help fast.” Logan nodded, motioning for him to continue. The man’s eyes lingered on his fists for a long while before he finished. “It’s my daughter. Things have been a little rough for her at school, for lack of a better word. Especially since this new campaign started. I just need someone to keep a closer eye on her.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, “She a party girl or something?” He wasn’t sure he could handle another bratty daddy’s girl again. The last one had nearly made him blow his brains out. They always think flipping their skirts up will let them get away with more and he can’t stand it.

The man’s face blanched and he shook his head so vigorously that his jowls moved with him. “Oh, no, not at all. But she’s,” he paused and lowered his voice. He leaned in closer to Logan and waited for Logan to do the same. He rolled his eyes but did it anyway. “She’s like you, you know.”

Logan shot him a grin, “You mean a mutant.”

“Lower your voice,” he hissed, face tightening up in anger. “But, yes, a mutant. And I need one to guard her.” Ironic, this man was driving a campaign to make mutants second-class citizens, and his daughter was one. But Logan needed a check, he didn’t give a fuck about the morals of it all.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Perfect, you can pick her up from school for me.”

You had your earbuds in, head lowered while you made the trek across campus when you noticed him. He was difficult to miss, tall and buff. Very buff, you’re surprised that tank top of his hasn’t ripped every time he flexes.

Your dad’s newest campaign has you hyper-aware of your surroundings. You can’t afford to let your guard down. Not after the last attack.

There’s something about this man that tells you he isn’t someone looking to jump you, though. You’re not sure what it is. Every part of him screams danger, but not the type you’re looking out for. The cigar perched between his lips, the glistening muscles you want to bite, he’s trouble.

When you spot him outside your lecture hall for the third time that day, you finally figure out what’s happening. Your dad had told you he’d hired someone new to watch over you at school. You hadn’t voiced just how against it you were, but you didn’t like the idea.

You didn’t mind this guy, though. He wasn’t busting into your classes and embarrassing the shit out of you by making everyone empty their pockets like the last guy. He just lingered. You could deal with lingering.

What you couldn’t deal with was the way he was leaning against his motorcycle, smirking as you slowly approached him.

“Did my dad hire you?” You call out, tugging your earbuds out. “Who are you?”

He speaks around the cigar like it's second nature. “Your new bodyguard, sweetheart.” You suck in a deep breath when you hear his voice. He’s extremely attractive, you're surprised your dad would risk this.

One of the other ones had kind of gotten a little obsessed, stalking you even in his off hours. You didn’t think your dad would want another pretty boy around you. Though, you suppose this one isn’t pretty. He’s extremely handsome, ruggedly so, very manly. Jesus, you might end up being the stalker this time.

His lips curl up like he knows what you’re thinking about. You clear your throat, shifting your backpack higher up your arm. “You planning on taking me home on that?” You ask, pointing at his bike.

He straightens up and shrugs. “Got a problem with the bike?”

You grin, “Not really,” but your dad will. “No, not at all.”

You walk towards him and he reaches out, grabbing your backpack straps and tugging you towards him. You stumble, hands bracing against his chest so you don’t land flat on your face. “Sorry, kid,” but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. He buckles the straps of your backpack together and tightens them, puffing smoke in your face while he does. “Don’t want this flying off.”

“Mhm,” you hum. You’re not paying attention at all. The only thing you care about right now is just how ripped he is under your hands. You’re not sure how long you gawk at him but he seems to be ridiculously amused by it.

“Ready to go home, or what?” You jump back from him, brushing your hands off on your leggings and clearing your throat.

“Yes, yeah.” You rip your eyes off his body and instead focus on the bike. “No helmets?” You ask.

“You heal, don’t you?” You nod and he shrugs. “Don’t need them then, do we?”

You can’t help the giddy grin on your face at that. It’s gotten tiring being treated like glass. You’re about to get on the bike when you finally process what he said. “Wait, how do you know I heal?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, his gaze darts down to his fists. Your eyes widen when you see the metal poking through the skin. Of course, your father would only tell another mutant about his abomination of a daughter. You scoff and roll your eyes. He’s such a fucking hypocrite.

Logan climbs on the bike and you follow after him. You're hesitant to wrap your arms around his waist but he just reaches behind himself and jerks you forward.

You suck in a sharp breath, pelvis tight against his ass while he squeezes your hands. “You want to go flying?” You shake your head and he chuckles, starting the bike and driving off without another word.

Part of you loves the ride home, the other part detests it. For once you get to experience a little freedom. You’re not trapped in a steel box staring at the back of a car seat while the man beside you pretends he doesn’t exist.

You can feel the wind in your hair, get a taste of real speed, and enjoy a moment uninterrupted by someone’s expectations of you. On the other hand, Logan does not respect speeding laws. And healing abilities or not, you don’t actually want to experience road rash.

He manages to get you home in one piece, parking the motorcycle in the driveway and waiting for you to get off. But you can’t, your thighs have been clenching the seat so tight you think they might need to scrape you off.

“Kid?” He mutters. You shake your head against his back, arms still strangling his waist. It was actually kind of fucking terrifying being on one of these things. You can’t tell if you loved or hated it.

He lets out a rough sigh, forcibly moving your arms and then tugging you off the seat. Your legs are like jello while you try and straighten out. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks. You can’t manage much more than a strangled hum and he laughs.

You turn to your front door and spot a leering face peering out the window. “Shit,” you huff. Your stepmother sees you spot her and disappears from view. You feel your hopes of ever getting back on that bike go with her.

“You took her home on your bike!”

“Well-”

You flinch at the volume of your father’s voice. “I don’t give a fuck what your excuse is! I will not have my daughter seen riding that monstrosity! You are not to do this again, do you understand me?”

You don’t know what Logan says, but you’re certain it’s not the submissive Yes, sir your father is looking for. He continues shouting at him for another ten minutes. When you hear the door to his office open you scramble to look like you hadn’t been listening in.

But you’re a bad actress and if his huff of laughter is anything to go by, Logan knows what you were doing. “Did you know that was going to happen?” He asks, pointing back to your father’s, now closed, study.

You nod, pursing your lips with an apologetic smile. “If it helps, I was really hoping he wouldn’t do that.”

He shrugs, “I don’t really give a fuck how much he wants to scream at me.” It’s refreshing, to finally have someone in the house who doesn’t kiss your father’s ass. It makes you smile, a real genuine smile for the first time in a while.

You stand from the chair you’d been sitting in, gesturing further into your home. “Are you hungry? I haven’t eaten all day so I was thinking about making something.”

The smirk drops from his face, expression suddenly serious. It makes you tense up. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m here to get paid. I don’t want to be your friend, kid.”

You suck in a sharp breath, trying not to let the rejection sting. He’s a professional, it should be a relief after the last one. “Right, yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that.”

He nods, “Right,” tone stiff. You stare at him for another awkwardly long moment before you finally turn on your heel and walk toward the kitchen. You rush there, speedwalking so you don’t have to look at him any longer.

You open up your fridge, keeping your back to him for as long as humanly possible. You can hear him take a seat at the island, can feel the way his eyes bore into you. It’s a physical thing, his gaze, makes chills scrape their way down your spine.

You make yourself a sandwich and finally force yourself to turn around. Like you’d expected, he’s already looking at you. Lips ticking up just slightly when you finally get the courage to look up at him.

Logan feels a little guilty. You weren’t coming onto him earlier, you were being genuine with your kindness. He knows there were no ulterior motives to it and there’s a very slight part of him that feels bad for making you so quiet. “Why’s your dad so pissy about the bike?”

You’re a little startled by the question, after the comment he made you’d thought he wouldn’t want anything to do with you. You swallow down the rest of your bite and cough a little when the bread gets stuck on the roof of your mouth.

“He doesn’t want me to crash.”

“But you heal,” he points out bluntly and you can’t help but laugh a little.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. He doesn’t want me to crash and for someone to see that I miraculously healed. Having a freak for a daughter wouldn’t exactly help his campaign, would it?” You can’t even attempt to hide the bitterness in your voice. And you know Logan picks up on it because he doesn’t ask any more questions.

Your gaze drops to your plate and you finish the rest of your meal in silence. Or, you try to. “Got any plans tonight?”

You chuckle and give him an odd look. “No,” you respond sardonically. “None at all, prepare yourself for a very boring job. I don’t even know why he hired you, I never leave the house unless it's for school.”

“Yeah?” he muses, but he doesn’t seem particularly interested. More like he’s talking just to pass the time. “I heard you’ve been having a hard time at school.”

You suck in a sharp breath, a sudden wave of anger roiling through your gut. The cabinets behind you begin to shake and you wince in embarrassment, tamping down on your powers before you accidentally blow up the kitchen.

Logan watches the moment with subdued interest like he’s not all that surprised or impressed with the display. “Unless they were a PoliSci nerd, I was a nobody up until last year.” There’s no concealing the hate lurking within your words, “And then my dad took up this whole anti-mutant regime. Well, you can imagine how much the activists love me. I’ve just had a few incidents with some particularly passionate protestors.”

“Do you believe in it?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, you hadn’t expected him to actually continue the conversation. “What do you mean?”

He leans back, arms crossed across his chest in a way that makes his biceps bulge. He shrugs, “The anti-mutant regime, do you agree with it?”

You open your mouth, the perfected script almost rolling off your tongue. But this isn’t some politician's son you’re wooing. You’re not the perfect daughter, you’re in your own home, finally talking to someone else like you.

“No.” You answer, voice strong in its conviction. “And every time I see one of his PAs running around with their little signs I want to ram the stick up their ass.”

He barks out a laugh, eyes crinkling up in amusement. “I think we might get along, kid.”

You try to ignore the way your cheeks warm at his words. You don’t want to be this affected by him, you’ve barely spoken to him. But this is the first person in a long time that you know with absolute certainty you can be honest with. He doesn’t care about protecting your political image or bowing to your father’s every whim.

It’s a relief, like a constricting weight being taken off your chest. You give him an easy smile and get up to wash your dishes. His eyes are on you again but they feel less oppressive this time. You’ve already forgotten the rule he’s set in place, you’re not supposed to be friends.

It’s going to be hard to remember that.

Your father tightens his grip around your waist until you feel like you might squeal. “Smile, now.” You raise your hand, taking the stairs up the stage and waving out at the crowd that’s formed. It’s hot today, your makeup would be melting off if it weren’t for the artists who put it on for you.

Always have to look good in front of the camera. All of you. Seeing Logan in a suit was certainly a surprise. You’re almost completely sure that your father had to give him a bonus to even consider wearing it today.

He looks good, but you honestly prefer him in the normal beater and leather jacket. It’s something so uniquely him. This is just a reminder of your reality, that nothing around you is real. It’s all pretty lies wrapped up in expensive clothes.

You have to bite your tongue and hold back a grimace when your father begins his speech. “First, we had to let them into our jobs. Now they’re in our schools! Our children aren’t safe, not when they’ve got loaded weapons sitting beside them! Because that’s exactly what they are, weapons of mass destruction that will take apart-”

“Fuck me,” you hiss under your breath. Your cheeks hurt from keeping this smile on your face. You’re struggling not to flinch every time the crowd surges up to agree with him, bigoted shouts making your ears bleed.

Logan’s brows raise and he gives you a brief glance over his shoulder. Your face pinches in confusion only for a moment before you quickly correct it. Still, you keep your lips nearly completely motionless as you whisper, “Can you hear me?”

You dart your gaze back down to him and catch the barest of nods. Your smile softens, becoming something real if only for a moment. You don’t say anything else, you don’t need to. It’s just a comfort to know someone else is there with you, seeing through the painted faces and plastic smiles.

There’s movement in the crowd. It cuts your father off midsentence. He peers over the podium, trying to get a better look at what’s happening. You hear someone scream and then the entire crowd is getting knocked to the ground.

You jump back in shock, everyone on stage still. The security, however, is rushing to get to you and your family. It’s too late, though, there’s a mutant in the crowd and his eyes are set on you. “Fuck you,” he screams out your father's name and lugs something at the stage.

You hear someone shout your name but it’s too late. Glass shatters against the side of your face. It takes less than a second for the pain to start. You can feel holes being burned through your skin, like living fire melting through your bones and gums. A scream rips out of your throat, your hands coming up to block your face too late.

“Get her out of here!”

As agonizing as it is, you can already feel your skin working to mend itself. You can practically hear the flesh bonding back together. But the acid is dripping down you. It keeps moving steadily through your clothes and skin, your abilities on overdrive trying to repair the damage.

You can’t focus on anything except the sensation of being burned alive. Suddenly, there’s an arm being thrown around your shoulder and you’re being lifted off your feet. Your skin scrapes against the rough material of someone’s blazer and it makes you grit your teeth and scream again.

“I know, hold on kid, it’ll be over in a minute.” Logan rushes you behind the stage, where there are no cameras to watch you heal. You don’t know how your father’s PR team is going to spin this. Everyone saw it, saw the way your flesh bubbled and boiled. There’s no hiding the fact that half your face should be melted off.

“Car,” you grunt out when he puts you on your feet again.

His hands are clamped firmly around your shoulders, inspecting you for any further damage. “What?”

“We gotta get to the car,” the words are a struggle to get out. Your lungs constrict painfully in your chest while you force the rest out. “Can’t let them see.”

He looks pissed off that that's what you're worried about and not the fact that you were just attacked. Finally, after a minute of just staring at you, he nods. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and runs with you back to the limo. He throws the door open, pushing you inside and sliding in beside you.

You take in a deep breath the second you’re no longer in view of the TV cameras. “Fuck,” you gasp out. Your dress is in tatters on your left side and you quickly cover your chest. You pray that you didn’t accidentally flash anything while you were still on stage. Your father would never forgive you for that.

It’s silent in the car for a moment. You feel something being draped over your shoulder and look over to see Logan passing you his jacket. When he catches your gaze he gently grabs your jaw and titls your face towards his.

His eyes rove over the left side of your face and he gives you a tight smile. “You’re fine, kid.”

You pull your chin out of his grip and pull his jacket closed around you. “See why my father wanted you around? How would he have ever explained his daughter surviving an acid attack?”

There’s something pinched in his gaze. A deep-seated irritation and something else you’re too tired to identify. He’s looking at you oddly and you wish he wouldn’t. You press your forehead to the cool glass of the window and slump against the car door.

You don’t know when you fall asleep but by the time you wake up, Logan’s already carrying you up to your room. He sees you shift awake and places you on your feet. You steady yourself against the stair banister and walk the rest of the way to your room, trying to shake off the pain of the day.

You look back just in time to see Logan at the front door. “Goodnight,” you call down to him. You know he can hear you, but he walks through the door without another word. You bite your lip, ignoring the sinking feeling of your gut.

You toss your destroyed dress to the floor and turn your TV on. You surf through the channels for a bit before finding a clip of today’s incident. “-apparently part of a protest for mutants against the government. I don’t know Bill, they seem to just be proving everybody’s point. They are unsafe.”

“I agree, my thoughts and prayers go out to…”

You roll your eyes as they say your name. They’re saying it wasn’t acid, instead it’s some sort of chemical compound that causes extreme pain. Even you don’t believe that bullshit. You have a feeling your father is going to be looking for a new PR team tomorrow.

Your attention is snagged by the replay of the accident. You don’t focus on the acid, you don’t want to. Instead, you see how quickly Logan rushed to your side. He seemed to be right there even as the acid was being thrown.

Your brows pinch together and you glance at the jacket beside you. He’d forgotten to take it back before he left. You pick it up, eyes skating over the fabric before you find what you’re looking for. There’s a large hole in the right sleeve, acid having burned through it.

You hadn’t even realized he was in pain. You know he can heal, but it doesn’t get rid of the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You’ve never had someone look after you like that.

You grin to yourself, tucking the jacket in the back of your closet. You’re sure he wouldn’t want it back and you’re not planning on parting with it anytime soon.

You’re on house arrest for a week after the acid incident. Which includes no school. Your father has to play into the idea that you’re recovering from the trauma and healing. You don’t know how much longer he’s planning on keeping you locked up but you’re going stir crazy.

Not only do you not get to go to classes, but Logan isn’t around either. He doesn’t need to be, not when the only place you’re in is your room. He’s not a friend, he’s made that clear, but he’s something. And you are desperately craving that specific something.

“It was a sickening attack against my daughter that my wife and I are still trying to recover from.” You roll your eyes as you listen to your father spew his bullshit to the interviewer in the next room.

You’re not allowed to be out and about, of course. You can’t risk someone seeing you. But that doesn’t stop you from lurking.

“It was an incredibly traumatic experience for her, I’m sure.” You grin to yourself, picking at your nails. You like this one, whoever the reporter is interviewing him. She hasn’t let him catch a break. Especially not when he tries to capitalize on your trauma. Even though he hasn’t checked in once with you.

“Well,” he splutters for a moment. “Yes, of course,” he tries to sound humble but anyone can tell he’s just covering his ass. “And it just further proves what I’ve always said about mutants. They are animals, they’re not like us.”

You’d think at a certain point you’d go numb to it. You’ve been raised hearing this rhetoric from him all your life. But the sting never eases. That cloying ache in your chest never quite leaves you. Not when you know the only reason he publicly accepts you is for political gains. So everyone can see what a wonderful father he is and vote for him.

You feel sick to your stomach and you don’t think you can listen to much more of this. But right as you’re about to tap out a hand clamps down on your shoulder. You nearly scream but you catch a whiff of the man’s aftershave and your mouth snaps shut.

You leap out of your chair and whip around, a grin plastered on your face. “Logan, what are you doing here?” You can’t disguise the giddiness in your voice. He might constantly be reminding you that you hold nothing more than a professional relationship, but you don’t give a shit. He’s a constant in your life and that’s rare for you, so you’ll latch onto whatever comfort you can find.

His gaze briefly darts to the connecting wall to your father’s study and you flush. He’d probably heard all of that. You’ve never had someone see the side of your father that you do. There’s something shamefully embarrassing about it.

He looks back at you and gives you a sly smirk. “Wanna get out of here?” You’d have to be an idiot to say no.

“Uh,” you can hear the music from where you stand across the street. You shuffle uncertainly on your feet beside Logan, glancing up and down the sidewalk like your father’s going to pop out of an alleyway. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

Logan tugs his cigar out of his mouth. He’s leaned up against a lamppost and he’s watched you struggle for the past ten minutes. “Live a little kid, would ya?”

You look back at the dingy bar and grimace. “Okay, there’s a difference between living a little and having my face blasted on the news. How’s it going to look if I’m photographed at a bar while I’m meant to be healing?”

Logan points with his cigar to the entrance of the bar. “I can promise you, no one in there gives a fuck about who your daddy is.” Comforting, and a little humbling.

You take in a deep breath and Logan must sense the change in your demeanor. He flicks the cigar to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot. He holds his arm out, “Ready, kid?”

You nod, hurrying to his side and slipping under his grasp. He lets his arm hang heavily around your shoulder, hand squeezing your bicep gently to try and quell your nerves. You’d be swooning at the touch if you weren’t about to throw up from anxiety.

You used to have a life. Until your father had blown it up. You haven’t been around this many people in ages. Well, you haven’t been around people who are just having fun and not sucking up to every politician’s kid they meet.

The music gets louder as you step over through the threshold of the bar. The soles of your shoes stick to the floor. People laugh loudly all around you, some of them shouting up at TV screens for whatever sport is currently playing. You’re sure half of them don’t even normally watch the game. They just need an excuse to get their wives off their backs.

The thought brings a small smile to your lips. Logan glances down at you and frowns, “You are old enough to drink, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes and move out from under his hold. “Yes, Logan. I’m going into a master’s program, my frontal lobe is fully formed.”

He huffs a little at the attitude, cheeks twitching with a suppressed smile. He nods towards the back of the bar, “Find a seat, I’ll get us drinks.” He walks towards the bar without another word and you resent him a little for it.

Without him beside you, it’s like everything comes crashing down all at once. The songs playing grate on your ears. Every laugh feels like they’re screaming in your face. You’ve never been more in tune with your sense of smell and you hate it.

Your hands tremble by your sides and you nearly miss the man in front of you spilling his beer down his shirt. It looks completely unnatural, the way it just flips out of his hand. And you know it’s your doing.

You shove through him and his friends, running to the back and sliding into the first booth you see. You dig your nails into your palms, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart rate down a bit.

Logan slides into the seat across from you, placing a beer in front of you. It’s barely touched the grimy wood of the table before you tip your head back and drain it. You’ve never been a particular fan of beer or any alcohol for that matter.

But right now you need a buzz before you accidentally level the whole bar. You slam the bottle back on the table, taking in a deep breath, and sitting back. Logan gives you a hard stare, glancing between you and the empty bottle.

He clicks his tongue and stands up, “I’ll go get another one.”

You bite your lip and give him a sheepish, “Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for the buzz to settle in. There’s a slight tingling in your legs and the tips of your fingers. It almost feels like how you get when you’re starting to get aroused. But you don’t know if that’s from the alcohol or the way Logan looks in his slutty little t-shirt.

Definitely tipsy, you think to yourself, nudging your third beer to the side.

“Always been a lightweight?” He teases, watching you with amusement in his gaze while he works on what must be his fifth whiskey.

You shake your head with a soft smile. “No, I used to go out with my friends all the time.” You laugh a little at the memories and lean in a little closer like you’re sharing some horrible secret. Logan rolls his eyes but acquiesces, leaning in to listen to you speak. “We made up alter egos for our drunk selves. Wanna know mine?” You ask, wiggling your eyebrows at him with a stupid grin.

His brows pinch together and he frowns, “I don’t think so.”

You laugh and lean back in your seat. “You’re the worst!” He places his glass down on the table and fixes you with an odd look. You shift around uncomfortably, “What is it?”

“What happened to your friends? Why are you hanging out with me and not them?”

“Oh,” your gaze drops to the table and you suddenly find the stains on it very interesting. It’s practically abstract art. You swallow harshly around the lump in your throat and shrug. “Um, just all the stuff with my dad happened, and,” you shrug, “I don’t know. My life kind of fell apart.”

You try and shake off the funk, bring back the happy-go-lucky feeling you were in only minutes ago. “I had to move out of the dorms and head back home. My friends stopped talking to me. My boyfriend dumped me. It all just kind of blew up.”

Logan frowns and you swear he seems angry on your behalf. It’s a nice feeling, having someone care enough to hold a grudge for you. “You ever tell him how it was all affecting you?”

You snort, “Of course I did. He was overjoyed. He never liked my friends, especially not my boyfriend, they encouraged me to be too independent. He thought I was losing the values he raised me with. He just never cared to learn that I never agreed with them in the first place.”

Logan doesn’t say anything for a while and you let your gaze drift to the karaoke stage. Two women are singing a bad redemption of Led Zeppelin and it makes you smile. You don’t see the way Logan’s eyes linger on the curve of your lips and then drop to your chest.

You never seem to notice how you make him squirm. There is something so interesting about you. Something so different from the families he worked with before. He doesn’t know if it's the whole mutant thing, if you two are somehow kindred spirits in that regard. He doubts it, he’s never really cared much about that.

But he knows that there is something magnetic about you. It draws him in and makes him hate his own rules. He promised not to get involved with another client. It always ends messy, most times bloody.

You turn back to him and smile. Your voice is a low purr as you ask, “You wanna get out of here?”

Of course, he’s never been one to follow the rules.

“I am so sorry about this. Really.”

Logan glares down at you while you straighten out his tie. You duck your head so you don’t have to meet his gaze and he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Forget it, kid.” He says it with a smirk but it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty.

This will be your first public appearance since the incident. It’s a gala, of course, because your father hates you. He’d demanded you find a date, someone to look pretty on your arm because he doesn’t want you talking while you’re there. You’re meant for pictures and nothing more.

Considering the fact that no one wants to talk to you on campus, the acid incident not helping at all, you had no luck finding a date. You’d had to beg on hands and knees for days to get Logan to agree.

You don’t know what it is that finally made him cave but you’re grateful for it. You think your father was expecting you to fail. To come crawling to him and be forced to go with who he wanted you to go with.

You were not going to spend the whole night listening to some political major try and explain your own father’s campaign to you. You’d rather swallow acid than go through that for another night. Your father, of course, doesn’t know that Logan is taking you.

You’re planning on ambushing him with it. He can’t do anything about it now. He wants you to have a date for some reason and there’s no way for him to find a backup now. You take a step back from him and turn to look in the mirror.

Side by side, you do make an incredibly attractive couple. He looks amazing in his suit, his muscles just slightly pushing against the fabric. And as much as he hates the tie and constricting material, he makes it work.

And you feel pretty for the first time in a long time. You actually got to do your own hair and makeup for once. You’re a lot less heavy-handed than the assistants your father hires. You feel comfortable in your own skin, finally, wearing the deep red dress your stepmother had gotten for you.

“We look good,” you muse.

Logan looks down at you and smiles slightly, “You do.”

You give him a confused grin, “I said we.”

He leans down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “I know what you said, sweetheart.” Your heart nearly beats out of your chest at the proximity. Gooseflesh raises on your arms where he’s touching you and your knee buckles ever so slightly.

You can perfectly imagine his husky voice whispering something much, much dirtier to you. He pulls back with a slight chuckle and forcefully turns you around. “Come on, kid, we’re gonna be late.”

He nudges you towards your bedroom door and you nod your head mutely. He keeps doing that to you. These little things that could be so easily dismissed as you reading into his actions. But you know, deep down, you’re not reading into anything.

But you don’t know what to do with this information that he might possibly be into you. Or at the very least, attracted to you. He made it clear early on that he wants nothing but professionalism between the two of you, yet he continually breaks his own rule.

Your father and stepmother are waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you both. Your stepmother smiles when she sees you but your father’s face screws up in anger. “Are you fucking kidding me? The goddamn bodyguard?”

You shrug and slip past him, already walking to the front door. “A date’s a date.” You pause and grin over at him, “What are you going to do about it?” It’s a taunt, one you don’t give him a chance to respond to.

You’re already slipping outside and heading to the town car. Something about Logan being with you emboldens you to act in ways you never would. Even when he’s not there, when you’re just having family dinner and your father says something off-putting. You fight back, you don’t let him steamroll you and your opinions.

You feel better than you have in ages with Logan beside you. Still, the ride there is incredibly awkward.

The hotel is grand and luxurious. But they all are. You feel guilty complaining about your life when this is your weekend. What do you have to be upset about when you regularly stay in five-star motels and wear designer dresses without glancing at the price tag?

Sometimes you feel guilty around Logan. You wonder if he ever resents you for your privilege. You might be a mutant like him, sure, but you’ve never had to struggle to make ends meet. Or try and scrap together enough money to get your next meal. You’ve never had to worry about where you’re going to sleep next or if you’ll have a roof over your head.

Your struggles have been so different that you worry if something ever did happen between the two of you, you might not work together.

But those are spiraling thoughts for another time. Right now, you’re just trying to get through the front door without someone bombarding your father with questions on his stance about whatever.

When it’s clear that he’s going to be there for a while, he sends you and Logan off to the ballroom on your own. You feel bad for your stepmother, having to stay behind and pretend she’s interested as they bore her with stories that have no real meaning.

“Poor woman,” you mutter, watching her struggle to keep the smile on her face.

“You don’t call her mom,” Logan muses. You turn to look at him and he just shrugs. “Just a little weird.”

“Well, she’s not my mom.” His head tilts in confusion and you elaborate. “My bio mom left the second she figured out she gave birth to a mutant. We lie to the public, stepmom’s interfere with the perfect nuclear family ideal my dad’s pushing for.”

“If he cares so much about family then why don’t you have your dad’s last name?” A good question, one you had to field a lot when you first started school.

You give him a sly grin, “Took my mom's maiden name the second I was eighteen, just to piss him off.” There’s no true reason behind it other than being vindictive and petty. “He’s been trying to get me to change it for years but he can’t force me to. Besides, I like having my name separate from theirs. Lets me pretend I’m not a part of the family. Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and all, we just never really had the chance to bond.”

Someone passes by you. A couple you know you’re supposed to recognize but you can’t place their names. The man calls out your name, coming toward you with his arms open wide. You can see Logan tense up slightly beside you, bodyguard instincts coming out for a moment.

You squeeze his hand briefly before stepping forward to hug the man. “So nice to see you, again.” You tell him. He grins and squeezes you a little closer to his chest than necessary.

Logan clears his throat, glaring at the man’s drifting hands. Before either of you can react, Logan is pulling you back, hand resting lightly over the small of your back. He holds his hand out, forcing the man to shake his hand and take his attention off of you.

You can’t hold back the smile on your lips when you see how much smaller the man is under Logan’s intense stare. You’ve gotten used to the men at these events treating you however they want. They don’t see you as a human, you are your father’s accessory and their toy. You envy Logan for how easily he can dismiss these men, take away their larger-than-life personalities, and reduce them to the sniveling rats they truly are.

He doesn’t even speak, simply tugs you towards the ballroom and away from the man’s wandering hands. You can’t help the stupid smile on your face while you look at him. He glances out the side of his eye and huffs, “What?” He snaps, tone impatient.

You shrug and shake your head. “Nothing, you’re just…” You trail off, unsure how to continue. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable by telling him how you really feel about him. How deeply you appreciate him, how horribly you desire him. You’re afraid it will all just blow up in your face. That you’ll have truly been reading into everything and gotten his intentions all wrong. After all, he’s made it abundantly clear that there’s meant to be nothing between the two of you except a paycheck.

You take in a deep breath, smile faltering, “Nothing.” You finally spit out, slipping out of his grasp and walking quicker towards the doors. His hand lingers on your back, fingers trailing slowly down your spine until you’re completely out of his reach.

The chatter inside gets louder the closer you get to the entrance. You listen to the indiscernible voices, the quartet playing in the corner, and the clink of metal on the glass as they all eat. You straighten out your shoulders and put on your best smile, mentally preparing yourself to keep it stiff on your cheeks for the rest of the night.

Logan catches up to you, the both of you stopping the second you see the inside of the ballroom.

People Against Mutants

Evolution or Monstrosities

Parents for the Removal of Mutant Children

Your eyes widen as you take in the banners and signs hanging off the walls. More and more uncreative rhetoric all for the annihilation of mutants. Of people like you and Logan. Your smile drops immediately and you know you should have expected something like this from your father. He’d been refusing to tell you what this gala was for, saying offhandly he was just raising some money.

You thought it was another charity. Not this. Not people, quite literally, calling for your head. For Logan’s head. You suck in a sharp breath and glance towards the silent man beside you. His jaw is clenched as he takes in all the finely dressed people around you. They’re all laughing and chatting like they’re not actively campaigning for the destruction of children.

“Bar?” You ask, already walking towards it.

“Sounds good to me.” His hand is on your back again and you’re grateful for it. The glower on his face, the attitude that screams I don’t belong here keeps people away from you. He shoulders through the men huddling around the bar, forcefully clearing space for the two of you.

And when they turn around, posturing like they’re going to say something, he only has to look at them for them to retreat with their tails tucked. It’s ridiculously attractive seeing someone command these men so easily.

“Whiskey,” Logan grumbles, he looks back at you and you slide beside him, leaning your elbows against the cool counter.

“Just champagne, please,” you tell the bartender. He nods, quickly making your drinks and handing them to you. You turn with the flute in your hand, surveying the room. It feels less like a gala and more like a production of false niceties that will never end and never be genuine.

“Don’t know how you deal with these fuckers all the time,” Logan mutters, glaring as a man slams into him and keeps walking without apologizing.

You let out a short huff of laughter, “Honestly,” he glances over at you and you shrug. “I’ve got no fucking clue either.” He scoffs and takes a swig from his glass. But you can’t take your eyes off of him. You feel the words on the tip of your tongue, weighing you down until you feel like you have no choice but to spit them out.

“You,” his brows quirk up and he glances over at you. You take in a deep breath and start over, nerves making your palms sweaty around the glass. “You make it bearable.”

Logan’s face falls and he sucks in a deep breath. You see the expression on his face, you know what he’s going to tell you. And you hate how apologetic he looks. You especially despise the way he’s making you feel pitied. He’s never done that before and you don’t want him to start now.

“Don’t,” you tell him before he can say anything. You let out a self-deprecating laugh and place the champagne flute on the bar so you don’t have to look at him. “I know what you’re going to say, alright. So, just, don’t.”

Logan purses his lips and grabs your jaw. You try and jerk your face out of his grasp but he doesn’t let you, he forces you to look at him. He only lets go once you reluctantly make eye contact. You’re surprised by the look on his face. There’s no pity in his gaze like you’d expected.

This is something else, something darker and more twisted. You can’t put your finger on what exactly you’re seeing but you know it makes your heart race and your thighs clench. “Listen, sweetheart, I-”

“What the hell are you doing?” You jump away from him but Logan just clenches his eyes shut with a short huff of irritated breath. You clear your throat and turn to face your father. He’s glaring between you and Logan, but smiles warmly anytime someone looks your way. “I didn’t bring you here so my contributors could see what a fucking whore you are for the help.”

“Dad!” You exclaim, eyes widening in horror. But Logan doesn’t seem bothered by your father’s words. If anything it seems to incense him, his hand drifting from your jaw to drape itself over the nape of your neck. You try not to show just how much the possessive grip is affecting you but you know they can both tell.

Your father’s face pinches and he nearly stomps his foot as he looks between you and Logan. He looks like he wants to say something else but your stepmother, thankfully, calls his name. She waves him over towards her and you hold your breath, waiting to see what he’s going to do.

He takes in short puffs of air, straightening out his suit jacket and glaring at you. “You’re not going to be a fucking wallflower all night, got it?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s stomping off. He calls out a warm greeting to someone across the room and you feel like you can finally breathe again.

You give Logan a tired smile and nod towards the rest of the party. “Time to mingle.”

He laughs, loudly, enough to make people’s heads turn. You can feel your skin heating up from embarrassment and flinch away from the sound. “Sorry, kid, mingling ain’t part of my contract.”

Your jaw drops as you glare at him. “Are you serious?”

He turns back to the bar, flagging down the bartender for a refill. “Deadly,” he tells you firmly, barely looking at you. You roll your eyes and walk away from him, glaring at his back the whole time you do so.

He thought coming to one of these things, being stuffed in a scratchy suit, would be his worst nightmare. He was proven wrong when he heard them talking to each other. Bitching about golf and their mistresses wanting more attention. Their kids nagging them and their wives being bitches.

All of it made him want to down a whole bottle of whiskey and then blow his brains out. His worst nightmare turned into ever having to hold a conversation with one of these pricks.

Then, he turns around, surveying the room for wherever you were lurking. He expects you to be by your father’s side or hiding somewhere in a corner. Instead, you’re standing close -extremely close - to some pretty boy.

His hand is on your waist and you’re laughing at whatever boring fucking story he’s telling you. Logan tries to pick up on your conversation but there are too many things happening at once already. His senses are on overdrive and he’s already struggling against a migraine.

He feels something brewing in his gut, something he’s been trying to just shove down for months. He doesn’t know what it is he hates about this picture but it makes him sick to his stomach. He hears something crack and looks down to find the glass of whiskey split on one side.

“Shit,” he hisses, slamming the glass on the bar behind him. He shakes his hand out and tries to unclench his fists but it’s hard. He couldn’t have possibly been standing here long enough for you to suddenly find the love of your life. Why the fuck are the two of you so close?

This was so unlike you. Rarely did you ever have something good to say about the men you would encounter at these things. He’d heard you bitch about it enough times. Something about this isn’t adding up and he doesn’t know if it’s his own jealousy or intuition.

Still, he finds himself pushing away from the bar and stalking towards you both. Closer, he can finally see what the problem is. Your hands are on the guy's chest but you aren’t leaning against him, you’re actively trying to push him away.

It makes Logan’s blood boil, jaw clenching as he tries to keep himself at bay. He didn’t want to cave some kid’s head in in the middle of the gala. But the closer he got the clearer he could hear your hissed warnings to take his hands off of you.

Logan finally reaches you and the look of sheer relief on your face makes him want to bring the claws out. He’d love to see that smug smirk ripped off his face, but he holds back. If only so he doesn’t traumatize you.

“Alright, bub, hands off,” he warns.

“Why don’t you just leave us alone?” He had to give it to the kid, he’s got balls. Rarely did anyone ever buck up to him like this. Normally, he might entertain him a bit, drag this on longer than necessary to get a kick out of it.

But he still hasn’t taken his hands off of you and Logan’s not interested in fucking around tonight. Without a word, he grabs the kid by the collar of his jacket and tosses him away from you.

He lands roughly on the floor with a loud gasp and people turn to look. Logan pays no mind to the onlookers. He places his hand on your back and leads you out of the ballroom, unwilling to have eyes on you for the rest of this conversation.

“Logan,” you start, tone nervous.

“Don’t,” he snaps. He regrets it immediately from the way you jump in surprise. He lets out a rough sigh, running his hand down his face, and walks through the first door he finds. “I’m sorry, kid, I just-”

“Logan,” you cut him off. The tone of your voice is enough to get him to finally look at you. Your arms are crossed and you’re glaring at him. “Why the fuck did you drag us into a closet?”

His brows furrow in confusion and he glances around, finally realizing what he walked into, “Fuck,” he hisses. He gropes blindly around the room for a light switch. There’s a small click and then an unflattering fluorescent light is shining down on you both. He’s managed to drag you both into a small, incredibly cramped, cleaning closet.

You’re grimacing as you push a few mops away from your head. You look over at him and something about the look on his face must be funny because you start to laugh. “What were you thinking?”

Your smile makes one curl up on his own lips. He can’t help it, something about you eases a bit of the tightness constantly lurking inside him. “Thought it was one of those stuffy conference rooms.”

You scoff and reach for the handle, “Just a stuffy closest, good going, Logan.” You roll your eyes and tug on the knob. Your brows furrow together as you jiggle the handle every which way, desperately pulling on it.

“Move over,” Logan mutters, nudging you to the side. He wraps his hand around the handle and yanks on it, expecting the door to swing open. When it doesn’t his face falls.

“Did you miraculously unlock it, genius?” You demand sarcastically. Logan feels his shoulders tense up, frustration levels steadily rising. He’s already got a shit temper, he doesn’t need you adding to this.

“No,” he snipes, “but I don’t see you coming up with any wonderful solutions.”

You throw your hands up in the air, wincing when your elbow collides with the shelving unit behind you. “I didn’t drag us into this mess! Why did you even come in here?” You demand and he can see how angry you are.

It shows in the way you tapped your heeled feet against the floor and glower at him like he’s the bane of your existence. He doesn’t know what happens, what comes over him, or why this is the moment he chooses to break his rule.

Your back slams into the shelves behind you and you gasp as he surges towards you. His hands come up to cup your cheeks and before you get a chance to question him, his mouth is covering your own. Logan buries his hand in your hair, ruining the perfectly styled curls. You don’t seem to mind much if the way you arch into him is anything to go by.

His tongue runs across the seam of your lips, tasting the cherry-flavored gloss you’d applied earlier. He wants to devour you. Consume you body and soul, take everything you have to give, and then keep going. He doesn’t want to stop, but he’s not sure he wants the first place you have sex to be in a janitor’s closet.

He pulls back, tugging you back when you try to chase his lips with your own. “Shouldn’t do this here,” he mutters. He’s struggling to hold back. And when you look up at him, lips swollen from his kiss, and you mutter why, how is he meant to resist?

He tugs you away from the shelves, pushing you against the door so he doesn’t have to see your face twist up in pain every time the corner digs into your lower back. Your hands drop down to his belt, lips desperately carving a path down his neck.

He’d laugh at your eagerness if he wasn’t just as desperate for you. He reaches for the hem of your dress but it’s one of those floor-length gowns with no slits. He struggled for a minute before getting too impatient and just muttering, “Fuck it.”

You gasp when you feel the metal of his claw against your leg, eyes dropping down to watch as he makes himself a slit. He slices the fabric along your thigh and then just rips it. “Logan,” you hiss as he hikes the silk over your hips.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” You glare at him, eyes darting between him and his pants before you finally shake your head. He laughs slightly, hand drifting under your dress and reveling in the way you shiver under his touch. “Yeah,” he whispers, “that’s what I thought.”

His fingers move gently along your thighs, easing you into his touch. You let out breathy whimpers, tucking your face in his neck the closer he gets to your core. He lets his hand drift lower, searching out the band of your underwear.

He’s pleasantly surprised when he’s met with nothing but you dripping for him. “Shit, you’re not wearing any underwear?”

You freeze and keep your face stubbornly buried in his neck. Logan laughs slightly, tugging you back and forcing you to look up at him. You mumble something under your breath. It’s said so quickly he can barely understand you. “What was that?”

“Ugh, god, Logan.” You groan and let your eyes drop down to his shirt, fiddling with the end of his tie. “I was hoping this would happen.”

When he doesn’t say anything your face shifts, worry gnawing away at you. You glance up at him and are surprised by the intensity of his gaze. He’s staring down at you like he wants to eat you whole. His pupils have consumed all the color of his eyes, there’s nothing but want on his face.

“You wanna know why I agreed to come with you, kid?”

Your mind is completely dulled just by being this close to him. It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying before you nod your head. “Why?”

The look on his face reminds you of a wolf guarding its territory. It’s predatorial, animalistic, it makes you want him even more. “I didn’t want any of these little boys getting a chance to have their hands on you.” His gaze drops down to your lips and he leans in until your breaths are mingling together.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.” He dips his head down and his kiss isn’t as intense as it was the first time. His lips move lazily over your own, tongue stroking against yours like he’s savoring the taste.

You can taste the whiskey he’d drank earlier, can still smell cigars on his breath. It should be revolting, you’ve never liked kissing smokers. But there is something so intoxicating about him. Everything he does is enchanting to you.

It’s a naive train of thought but you trust him wholly. He could do whatever he wanted to you and you’d let him willingly. His hands continue their exploration down your body and you can’t help but arch into his touch. His fingers stroke languidly over your center and you moan into his mouth.

Your lips part with little gasps and your head thunks loudly against the door. Neither of you notice or care, you’ve all but forgotten the gala outside. The government employees and rich socialites that you’re supposed to be entertaining.

And when he slips a finger inside you, you don’t care who hears you call out his name. The rough pad of his finger creates a feeling you’ve never been able to produce on your own. There’s something so exhilarating about this whole situation.

Stuck in this tiny closet, no air to breathe but each other’s. No room for anything other than your bodies pressed as closely together as possible. You're completely surrounded by him and you never want to leave.

“Logan,” you gasp out his name and shove at his shoulders. He momentarily stops his ministrations, giving you a worried look. “Please, I just want you.” You tug at his wrist, hissing when his fingers leave you with a lewd pop.

He looks hesitant, but you can see the way he’s straining against his boxers. You let your hand trail down his stomach, palming him through the thin fabric. His hips buck into your hands and he lets out the most attractive noise you’ve ever heard. You’ve always liked guys who aren’t afraid to be vocal.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers. He swats your hands to the sides, tugging his boxers down and squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise. “Come on, up.”

You jump and he slings your legs around his waist, lining himself up with your entrance. He drags you slowly down his cock, resting your back against the door and giving a hesitant thrust inside you.

You can’t help the low groan that leaves your parted lips. It’s like you’re full of nothing but him. You’d been mentally prepared for the stretch he would present, but you probably should have given him more time to warn you up.

You don’t care though, this is all you’ve been craving for months. To feel nothing, taste nothing but him. You’ve been praying that he feels the same way you do, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he does.

He looks completely wrecked, head resting on your shoulder while you both take a breath. It’s overwhelming, this feeling of finally having what you’ve always wanted. Someone you can give yourself to completely and still feel safe with them.

You drag your hand up his back, burying it in his hair and reveling in how soft it is. You tug him back by the roots, tilting his neck until he’s forced to look at you. Your gaze drops to his reddened lips and you smile at the gloss you’ve smeared across his chin.

“Come on, Logan, don’t tell me you’re all talk.”

His eyes narrow but you can see the amusement swimming within them. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Oh, yeah?” You goad, grinding your hips down against his and biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. You’re trying not to make a noise, trying to make sure he doesn’t see just how much he’s affecting you. But you can already feel your orgasm forming, it’s a low tingle in the tips of your toes, a burning hot desire rushing through your thighs as you clench around him.

“Yeah,” he promises, thrusting sharply into you. This time the moan is forced out of you, your lips parting unbidden as you slump over him, burying your face in his neck. He doesn’t waste any time, using your hips as handles to pump you over his cock like you’re nothing more than a toy.

The door rattles behind you, each thrust of his hips makes it shake in its frame. His hands fist the back of your dress, grip so tight you think it might tear. You don’t care. He could rip it off of you and you’d walk outside naked right now.

You don’t care what happens, not when he’s beside you. There’s a feeling of security that comes from being around Logan and you can feel it in this moment. You trust him to take care of you in every way.

Maybe you shouldn’t. After all, you two haven’t known each other long. But there’s not much you’re worried about when he’s moving steadily inside you. You can taste the desperation you share for each other in each pump of his hips.

He whispers it into your ear while you claw at his back. The shelves around you shake and you worry you might bring them down if you can’t rope yourself in. But you can feel the wave building in the back of your throat, your vision blurring as you tighten your legs around his waist and begin to match his rhythm.

“There you go,” he mutters, pinning you to the door and keeping your hips still while he moves inside you. “Come on, I can feel you clenching around me, sweetheart.” He manages to hold you up with one hand, the other diving between your legs to rub tight circles around your bundle of nerves.

It doesn’t take much longer for your muscles to seize up, back bowing as you clench desperately around him. “Oh, fuck, Logan,” you shout his name, and his hand quickly comes up to smother your cries. He squeezes your cheeks until your eyes snap open and he drags you down to meet his gaze.

“Don’t want to lose my job, need you to be quiet for me,” he grunts out, his tone breathy and strained. He loses his rhythm, movements speeding up erratically while he lets out low groans and whispers of your name. You almost cum again when he finally finishes inside you.

Your limbs are twitching in overstimulation by the time his hips still. You feel completely boneless, body slumped lazily in his arms. He wraps both arms around you, squeezing you a little before slowly lifting you off of him.

It’s a relief of pressure when he pulls out. His cum leaks out of you, dribbling down your thighs and dripping onto the floor of the closest. Your face screws up at the feeling and you internally cringe. No condom was probably a stupid call.

But you don’t really want to think about the repercussions right now. Not when he’s stroking your hair and rubbing a soothing hand down your back, waiting until you can form a coherent sentence before he lets you go. “Alright?” He asks, voice bordering on something smug.

“Mhm,” you push away from him, legs shaky as you try and straighten out your dress. It’s a loss cause, trying to hide what happened in here at all. You’ve got a tear going up to your hip and you’re pretty sure there are holes in the back. Logan’s tie is gone and you don’t even remember taking that off. His shirt is completely wrinkled and your lip gloss has stained his face.

You’ve both got horrific sex hair and the room reeks of it. You don’t know how you're going to sneak out of here. You still try and relax your hair, patting down the flyaways while Logan retucks his shirt.

It’s silent between the two of you, heavy but not awkward. You don’t think either of you knows what to say now that you’ve physically acted on what you want. A sudden thought hits you, makes your heart clench painfully and your tongue ties up in your mouth.

He’d confirmed that he wanted your body. That he desired you sexually. But you don’t think he actually said anything about a real relationship. There would be problems, of course, your father for one would have a lot to say about it. But you don’t care about that. You don’t care about any of the consequences, you just want to be with him.

You open your mouth to ask him what he wants when the door swings open. Both you and Logan whip towards it. But where you look like a deer caught in the headlights he looks like the epitome of male pride.

Especially when he realizes it's your father on the other side. “Dad-” You start, but you have no idea what you could even say. Your dress is in tatters and both you and Logan are still mussed up. There’s no hiding what happened here.

He doesn’t let you finish, holding up his hand. His voice is eerily calm as he says, “I thought I heard something banging around in here.”

“You did,” Logan scoffs, crossing his arms and glaring at your father. You feel your heart jump to your throat, staring over at him with a horrified look on your face. How could he think that was okay to say? It was so dismissive of what you believed had happened.

This was more than just a quickie in the dark to you. This meant something, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that it was the same for him as it was for you. And that just makes you feel like the stupid little girl everyone seems to believe you are.

Your father says your name but you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye. “You’re feeling sick,” he tells you, no room for argument. “Your date had to take you home. It was just too much too soon after the incident at the rally.” When you don’t say anything he shouts out, “Understood?” That makes you jump.

“Yes,” you clear your throat and face him. “Yes, understood.”

Your father has made his stance on mutants clear. He hates them, despises them to their very being, and wishes he could kill every last one. And as much as you were raised with those ideas, they were never truly turned on you.

But he’s looking at you right now like he wishes you were never born. You feel like shit on his shoe. Something to be hidden away and buried. It makes your shoulders slump like a hundred pounds was just tossed onto your back.

You try to run past him but he jerks you back, fingers so tight around your bicep you feel the skin tear. You gasp in pain but don’t say anything, too afraid to argue. “Put his jacket on, I won’t have you looking like a whore.” He releases you with a rough shove and storms off.

You can feel something burning at the back of your eyes. A moment later Logan drops his jacket over your shoulders, pulling you back into his chest and running his hands over your arms. “Come on, kid,” he mutters. There’s something resigned in his voice that makes your heart drop, “Let’s get you home.”

The walk through the lobby feels like you’re walking through a dream. You’re not completely present for it, or the ride home. Your mind and your heart are warring and you feel like you’re going to be torn apart if you keep lingering on what just happened.

You just can’t understand how you could go from having everything you wanted to feeling like the scum of the earth in less than two minutes. Logan doesn’t speak as he drives you home. His knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel and you’re afraid to even try and start a conversation.

You don’t want to hear him tell you that he didn’t desire you past your body. You don’t want to discover that you’re just another notch on his belt. He seems to do this a lot, sleep with the girls he guards. The idea of just being another job, another fun night, makes you absolutely disgusted with yourself.

When he pulls into the driveway of your house you both just sit in the car. Neither of you knows what to say. And the air between you is so thick with tension you feel like you could choke on it. You stare down at your hands, fingers fiddling with the ripped seams of your dress.

You pick at the threads and feel his stare on you. You can’t do this. You can’t deal with the possibility of rejection. Not after what happened between you and certainly not after what your father said.

You undo your seat belt and Logan watches as you go through the movements of getting up. His eyes never leave you and it’s like a physical caress, his stare. Normally it would make you warm inside, comforted by his presence. But right now all you can feel is the chill of where his cum has dried between your legs and the icy-hot stab of nausea in your gut.

You throw the door open and you’re nearly out when he calls out a quiet, “Goodnight.”

You don’t look at him, you can’t. You slam the door shut and walk silently to the front door of your house. You don’t look back, don’t respond, you just slip inside your house and finally let the weight of the night come crashing down on you.

You don’t cry until you hear him pull out of the driveway.

Your father and stepmother usually stay at the hotel the night of a gala. Most nights you come home and enjoy the house to yourself for once. Tonight, you’re woken up by the front door slamming so hard your walls shake.

You can faintly hear your stepmother’s voice trying to console your father. She’s muttering something to him you can’t make out. You shoot out of bed, running to pull some sweatpants on. After you’d cried yourself out you’d taken a shower.

You’ve scrubbed your skin raw but you swear you can still smell him on you. You rush to your bedroom door, turning the knob quietly and slowly peeking your head outside. Your father’s at the bottom of the stairs, the second he spots your open door he’s screaming your name.

Your stomach twists painfully and you can feel panic starting to overwhelm you. Your hands shake and your legs are stiff as you slowly step into the hallway. You’re a grown woman. You shouldn’t feel like this because your dad is going to yell at you.

But he’s been so good at forcing you to rely on him. At forcing you to bend and break to fit his beliefs and mold. You don’t know what to do if you’re not striving for his approval. And right now it’s very clear that he’s never been more disgusted by you.

If the look on his face isn’t enough to twist the knife deeper, his words are. “I have never,” he screams at you. You take a step back, keeping the stairs between you, refusing to meet him in the middle. “Been more embarrassed to call you my daughter. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was for me? Do you know how many people saw you being dragged outside like a fucking whore off the corner?”

You clench your eyes shut, turning your face away from him as the shame becomes a physical thing inside you. You can feel it making its way up your throat. Because he’s right. Tonight you were nothing more than a slut without any self-respect.

But you’re also pissed off. You’re fucking enraged at yourself for being so stupid as to ever believe Logan wanted you for anything more than your body. You're mad at Logan for knowing how you feel about him and taking advantage of it. And you’re so fucking tired of doing everything you can to make your father proud and it never being enough.

“Have you ever once asked me what I want?” You raise your voice, screaming down at him with a ferocity that surprises even you. His eyes widen, frame trembling with unreleased rage. You plow through, not stopping because you know if you do, you’ll never get this out. “No, you haven’t. Not once. Because you don’t fucking love me! And it has taken me years to accept that, to finally realize that you’re incapable of loving anyone but yourself.”

You gasp, the noise wet and painful as something warm trickles down your cheek. You stare down at him with your eyes wide in realization. “It’s so clear to me now, I feel like an idiot for missing it for so long. You never loved me. You’re incapable of it!”

You’re embarrassed at the way your voice cracks. As much as you want to pretend you’re stronger than him, not afraid of him. There’s still a little girl inside you who wonders why Daddy doesn’t love you.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you want, Dad. I don’t care what you want my life to look like or if I embarrassed you. I’m glad I did, glad someone finally saw a sliver of the truth you try so desperately to hide-”

“Enough!” He shouts and it startles you so bad that you jump back, your abilities reacting and a vase behind you flying off the shelf. You duck as glass shatters across the stairs and floor. You glance at the scene with shocked eyes, looking down at your father to see that he’s not even a little bit surprised.

Instead, he just looks so deeply disappointed that it makes you shrink into yourself. The anger within you is extinguished in a second. He rubs his face, shaking his head and turning his back on you. “Dad?” You call out, voice trembling.

“Go to your room,” he tells you quietly. “I don’t want to look at you anymore.” You hover by the top of the stairs for a moment, not quite believing him yet. And when he realizes you're still there, that you’re not taking him seriously, he finally looks at you again.

“I wish every goddamn day that those doctors had just put you down. I’d rather have a dead daughter than one like you.”

You stand there, stunned, even after the rest of the house has gone to bed. You clean up the pieces of glass while you try and swallow down your tears. Let the sharp edges dig into your skin and tear until you can feel any type of pain besides the one inside you.

A week of solitary confinement. You’re surprised that you haven’t just been kicked out of college. You’re sure that your father’s many donations to the university are the only thing stopping your professors from dropping you from the class.

You don’t care if they do or not, though. You never actually care about what you studied. You’d just always hoped that it would be a way for you to escape the tight grip around your neck your dad has on you.

You’ve figured out that no matter how hard you fight, you’ll never escape him. He hates you and yet, he can’t let you go. You’d laugh if you weren’t busy wallowing in your depression.

Someone keeps leaving food by your door but you can’t find it in yourself to be hungry. You’ll nibble on something, but you feel like you’re going to throw up when you so much as breathe the wrong way.

You haven’t heard from Logan since that night. You knew your father would fire him the second he woke up. But you’d held out hope - foolishly - that he might still try and reach out to you. You have this childish image in your head of the prince coming to rescue the princess from the dragon.

But you’ve been naive your whole life, you don’t want to keep going down this road. You don’t want to keep expecting the best of people and live your life in perpetual disappointment.

You haven’t seen or spoken to your father since that night. Wordlessly, he’d banned you to your room. No one’s said it, but you know you’re not allowed to come out. You don’t know when he’s going to deem you useful again and drag you back out into the public eye.

Contrary to his belief, no one had seen you leave that night with Logan. You hadn’t been in any tabloids or shitty news articles. Besides emotional estrangement from your father and losing the only guy you’ve ever really liked, there were no consequences to your whorish behavior - as your father so lovingly puts it.

You roll over in your bed and picture yourself taking a shower. It feels like such a workout but you can’t stand lying in your sweat and tears for much longer. With a long drawn-out groan, you throw yourself out of bed and enter the bathroom connected to your room.

You know you’ll feel better afterward, but everything besides sleep sounds like too much work. Still, you force yourself inside and finally clean the grime of laying on your ass for a week off.

You walk naked through your room, making a beeline for your dresser. You feel a little better after washing yourself off and moisturizing. But not much. Physical health can only do so much for how you feel inside.

You hope this will blow over soon, you’re not sure how much longer you can take feeling so awful. You hate pitying yourself, and that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. You huff irritatedly, digging around your drawers for your favorite shirt.

A hand clamps around your mouth, rough and big, yanking you back into a muscled chest and keeping you quiet. You still try and scream, hands clawing at the skin of their hand until you feel blood.

“Fuck, quit that, would ya?”

Your erratic movements slowly come to a halt. You still feel your heart pounding against your chest, adrenaline warming your blood and making you feel like you're on fire from the inside out. But, you recognize the voice, recognize there’s no danger to the situation.

That doesn’t make you any less pissed off. When Logan is sure you won’t keep attacking him, he lets you go slowly. You immediately whirl around on him, uncaring that you’re still naked. Energy moves quickly through you, becoming a physical thing under your skin.

He smiles at you and you push the energy out, throwing him across your room. He flies into your bookshelf, crashing to the ground with a loud slam. “What the fuck are you doing?” You scream at him.

There’s no one home right now, luckily, or else you both would be screwed. He shakes his head off, brushing pieces of wood out of his hair and slowly getting to his feet. “Well, I was coming to say hi-”

“You say hi by ambushing naked girls?” You interrupt, grabbing the clothes closest to you and pulling them on quickly.

Logan rolls his neck out and shrugs. “No, that was just a plus,” he gives you that insufferable smirk and you want to scream.

This is the first time you see him in a week since you had sex together and your father officially disowned you. And this is what he’s leading with? Seriously? “You’re a real fucking prince, Logan.” You shake your head with a scoff and glare at him.

He narrows his eyes, looking to be in disbelief at your attitude. “What happened?” You expect to hear irritation in his tone. Anger that you’re being such a bitch right now. Instead, he sounds concerned, like he can see right through you.

You hate that. You used to love having someone who could see past all the pretenses and walls, but it just hurts now. “Nothing,” you tell him, unable to hold eye contact any longer. “Look,” you take in a deep breath, and your brows furrow in confusion. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

Logan doesn’t look like he wants to drop the topic just yet but he relents. He nods towards your window and you fix him with an astonished look. “I climbed, I didn’t want your dad to risk seeing me on the security cameras out front.”

You feel suspicion brewing inside you, tone turning defensive. “Look, if you came here because you want to fuck again, I suggest you go find another girl. I’m not interested anymore.”

“Well,” he scoffs, “I find that hard to believe.” How easily he just dismisses your words. Like they hold no real importance. It makes you want to scream. Instead, you just flick your wrist, throwing him into another wall. You don’t know how you’re going to explain these holes in the wall to your father but you don’t really care.

“Enough,” he snaps, brushing himself off and glaring at you. Your lips curl up in amusement, the first thing you’ve felt besides anger and depression for the last week. “Look, I was coming here to get you the hell out, kid. Clearly, I’m not wanted.”

He walks towards your window, intent on climbing back down the side of your house and leaving. You almost let him, if only to see him scurrying down the wall. Instead, you take a step forward and stop him with a small, “Get me out?”

He sighs, running an aggrieved hand over his face and propping the other on his hip. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Look, I can’t stand the thought of you cooped up in here, isolated from the rest of the world. It’s not fair, I was gonna see if you…” He trails off and roughly swallows.

Your interest piques. Whatever is this hard for him to get out has to be interesting. “Logan,” you call his name softly. “See if I what?”

He huffs out a rough breath, turning around and staring you down. There’s something in his eyes, something reflected in yours. He’s looking at you the same way you always look at him. “You wanna come with me, kid?”

Well, you’d have to be an idiot to say no.

You don’t leave a note. You don’t give them any clues or hints as to where you might have gone. They can draw their own conclusions about what happened to you. They can tell the news whatever twisted lies they want.

You don’t care, that’s not your life anymore. Your life is packed away in a backpack in the back of Logan’s trailer. Your new life is in the passenger seat beside him. You’re equal parts terrified and excited to figure out what you’re going to do with the rest of it.

a/n: can you tell I know fuck all about politics?

Also, smut, wow, this was hard and rough to write. I don’t know why it’s such a struggle. I just feel guilty writing such dirty words, it’s absolutely diabolical that I have no problem being crazy over a guy whose age gap with me is the same age as my parents, but I can’t write smut.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp♡

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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foldingfittedsheets · 5 months ago

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My paternal grandmother was a librarian. I only got to see that set of grandparents once a year as they lived out of state. I fondly remember summers spent at their house watching That Darn Cat and The King and I on loop, hunting for water skippers in the back creek, and reading the entirety of the Peanuts comics.

Because my grandma was a librarian she was delighted to foster my love of reading. We made trips to the library every week. One summer when I was seven or so I got really into this kids series about princesses all named after gemstones, each had a unique magic power.

At the end of each book was a puzzle or some extra bit of lore to decode. All of them were easily copied down in some way. Until I got to Sapphire’s book. At the end of the story Princess Sapphire was in peril! She needed a hero to come save her from a terrible fate. And there, on the last page, was a decoder device. It needed to be cut out and assembled.

I had to help save the Princess!!! In the iron grip of a fever of imagination I immediately found scissors and started carefully cutting the page. The page warned only to use scissors with an adult present and I scoffed to think I needed supervision just for scissors! I was a hero!Her plight called to me from the pages, imaginings of how I would daringly rescue the beautiful sweet Princess Sapphire ran through my little brain-

And about halfway up the page toward my goal I froze. This was a library book. I couldn’t cut a library book! What was I doing?! Even now in my memory it stands as a glaring example of the first time I mastered impulse control. Tragically, too late.

I was distraught. My grandma had a sacred duty to books and I, villain that I was, had defiled a precious tome! I wallowed for some time in abject misery, experiencing the greatest amount of guilt my tiny body had ever previously held. I’d probably go to jail. For a crime as monumental as wielding scissors against a book I wouldn’t even get dessert in jail.

Gradually, I processed my way through the grief of my vile deeds. I couldn’t have the decoder, I slowly accepted. That might be punishment enough. And I had only cut the page halfway. So it was only half a crime... It wasn’t illegal to lie when you’d aborted an evil act, right?

I didn’t know but I didn’t want to face my grandma’s potential wrath. I have no memory of my grandma ever yelling at me. I waited until the next day to approach her.

“Grandma? I finished my book and when I got to the end I saw someone had cut the page! They probably wanted the decoder because I also want that but it was very bad to cut a book, wasn’t it?”

My grandma regarded me benignly. She carefully took the book to observe it and nodded. “It’s good to see that they stopped before they cut it all the way out. Let’s go tape this together, and then I can photocopy the page and we can make you a decoder.”

I was ecstatic. Rewarded for my honesty! I created and cracked codes for the rest of summer with the flimsy paper creation we’d made. I genuinely doubt my grandma believed that I wasn’t the perpetrator, but I loved that she acknowledged that the person responsible stopped.

#ramblies #ffs foibles #story #writing #decoder #book #childhood #jewel kingdom #librarian #family lore

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no-144444 · 9 days ago

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3 minutes- l.norris

summary: lando overshoots an overtake, and you go off the track. what then ensues is the most stressful and awful 3 hours of his life.

pairing: lando norris x fem! rbdriver! reader

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He overshot it, and you were off the track.

“Fuck!” he screamed, looking in his mirrors. “Is she ok?”

“Red flag, red flag! No info yet Lando, keep going-”

“Is she getting out of the fucking car?!” he screamed. Everything was too much, too fast, too difficult. Every single person in the stands was silent, or maybe his brain was just filtering it out. He couldn’t hear anything, just his own voice, his own breath, and the beat of his own heart in his ears. He needed information, he needed to know that you were walking out of the car. He needed to know you weren’t dead. He needed to know if he still had a fiancé. It was bad. He knew it was bad. It was the third lap of the fucking Sprint.

“No info-”

“Don’t give me that shit! Is she getting out of the car?!”

“She is exiting the car, yes.”

And fuck, Lando could breathe again.

“Assisted,” Will added and his heart dropped. “They’re stopping the session, bring it back to the pits.”

Lando screamed. As he slowly drove towards the pits, he could feel the eyes on him. The drivers, the media, the fans. All of them wondered the same thing as him. Had he really fucked everything in his life up?

He parked in his own garage and ran out to the RedBull garage, needing more information than anyone was willing to give him.

“What is going on?” he demanded of your race engineer, Ryan.

Ryan sighed. “Have you seen the footage yet?”

“Don’t show it to him!” Christian demanded, crossing the garage to get to him. “You shouldn’t be here, get out of my garage.”

“She’s my fucking fiancé, if I want information, I’m getting it Christian.”

“You’re the one who fucking killed her!” he screamed.

The garage went quiet. Lando’s heart rate sped up, his eyes glossed over. He couldn’t have lost you. He didn’t lose you. He refused. He became so much more aware of everything around him, the dead silence in the garage, the way everyone else’s eyes were wide, or subdued. The way Max stilled. The way Christian just stared at him. The way everyone stopped breathing. He could feel every inch of his race suit on his skin, he could feel every curl on top of his head, every bead of sweat that fell from his skin. He took a deep breath.

“She’s gone?” he asked in a broken whisper, looking at Ryan. Ryan looked down.

“They got her back!” Henry, your lead mechanic screamed, informing the entire garage that you in fact, were alive. “She’s breathing, she’s awake!”

There was a collective sigh of relief. With the aid of Max, Christian backed off enough to allow Lando to see the footage and hear the whole story.

He watched in horror as the front left of his McLaren hit the back right of your RB and sent you flying. Somehow, you’d become airborne and flipped 8 times. 8 times. He counted it. The car hit into the barriers, and it split.

You didn’t move. The cameras turned away. The marshals ran. George ran on, his car had been hit with debris, the same for Franco, Liam, and Alex. They ran over, trying desperately to help you out. George and Liam carried you over to the ambulance. You were limp. Unresponsive.

“She died for 3 minutes,” Ryan explained, a sombre tone in his voice. “She’s on her way to the hospital now.”

He looked down, the tears flowing freely. You had died. For 3 whole minutes, you were gone.

“We think it was the impact of the spinning, and then hitting into the barriers. And… her Hans device was faulty. It wasn’t put on properly, and it came off during the first spin.”

“What about the halo?” he asked.

“It was crushed in the flips. She took the full impact of the last two with no Hans deivce. It was a miracle she didn't break her neck.”

He felt like he’d been slapped.

“We’ll get a car ready for you now. She’ll want to see you,” he explained, wrapping an arm around Lando and bringing him out into the paddock. Ryan, Max, and Henry shielded him from the prying eyes of the media, and got him into a car to the hospital.

What then ensued was the longest car ride of his life. Sao Paulo traffic was awful on a good day, but fuck. This was excruciating. What was worse was the inner turmoil he was dealing with. Would you ever want to see him? Would you leave him after this? Was this the end? Would you ever get back into an F1 car?

When he finally made it to the hospital, he was rushed to the ICU, walking behind a nurse.

“She’s in a stable condition, and she’s awake. She’s been asking for you,” she explained and a weight was lifted off his shoulders. You wanted to see him. You asked to see him.

He turned the corner into your room and he met your eyes. Bloodshot, with a burst blood vessel in one of them. You were bruised and broken, too many casts to count.

“Lando,” you smiled.

You smiled.

He rushed over to your side, sitting in the seat at the side of your bed. “I’m here.”

Your eyes were welling up in tears. “I wanted to see you before I left the track but they said I had to go,” you explained. “This isn’t your fault Lan. It was a racing accident. It was a mistake.”

He stared at you for a moment. How was it that you could sit there, in pain, traumatised, and comfort him? If he was a better man, he probably would’ve told you it was his fault, and not start crying at your kind words.

He started tearing up, bowing his head as to stop you seeing. “I don't deserve you.”

“You do,” you whispered, cupping his cheek. “You do, Lan. You’re here. I know you, and I know you’ve been beating yourself up for the last 3 hours. You didn’t kill me. I’m still alive.”

“I killed you for 3 minutes,” he croaked out.

“Racing killed me for 3 minutes. My defence killed me for 3 minutes. My ego killed me for 3 minutes. It wasn’t you, Lando. I turned into you, I’ve watched the footage,” you assured him. “Don’t blame yourself. I don’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, wrapping his arms around you carefully.

“I’m ok,” you whispered. “You're ok. It’s ok.”

You both knew it would take some time to get over this, but you knew you’d do it together. That was the important part.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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entitled-fangirl · 2 months ago

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Moonblood in the middle of the night.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan wakes the reader up in the middle of the night. She's groggy and unsure why.

A/n: based on an ask!!!

Masterlist

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She woke up to the soft coo of Cregan's voice as his hands pulled her to sit, "C'mon, love. Wake up for me."

She lets out a groan, rubbing her eyes. The sun had yet to rise, and candles lit their room still.

He smiled at the sight of her open eyes finally. He ran a hand through her hair, "Doing good for me. Up now."

Her entire body ached as he pulled her up to stand. Her eyes were still half closed with sleep, a blurriness cast over her vision as her brain filled with fog.

Only when Cregan's hands came up to untie her robe, did she reached out to grip his waist. "What-"

"-C'mon. I'm just getting you into the bath."

As the robe fell, a chill moved up her spine. Cregan helped her into the water, smiling when she let out a sigh at the warmth it brought back to her.

Cregan pulled her hair back and quickly tied it up to keep it from the water before moving over to the bed, yanking at the sheets in a hurry.

She didn't notice, leaning her head against the copper rim on the tub as her eyes closed and sleep began to invite itself back.

Cregan gathered the bundle of sheets and threw them outside the door to their chambers. He dug through the cabinet, pulling new sheets out and redoing the bed.

At the sound of shuffling, she peeked open her eyes to look at him, "What are you doing?" He looked at her with a smile. "What? Do you believe a lord does to know how to change bedding?"

She let out a playful scoff, leaning back and closing her eyes again, "You know that's not what I meant."

After changing the bedding, he moved to the tub, kneeling down beside it and taking a rag into the water. He rubbed it gently up and down her arms.

She hummed in contentment as he did so.

He took his time washing her body, the gruff man being gentle.

Cregan moved the cloth between her legs, and she let out a small gasp, her eyes opening in question.

"Easy, girl," he muttered lightly. "Your moonblood has come early. Rest your head again, and let me finish."

She let out a small whine, trailing her hand down to try to take the rag from him. "No, don't."

But he didn't budge. "Why? I've seen you at your worst moments, dear wife. Why is this where the line is drawn?"

"It's improper for you to see, Cregan."

He paused, studying her face closely. "Do you wish me gone?"

She quickly shook her head, "Never. It is just imp-"

"-Improper my arse," he said as he finished cleaning her.

…

"I am sorry," she said as he helped walk to back to the bed.

"For what, dear wife?"

"Bleeding. On the bedding. I shouldn't sleep with y-"

His large hands cupped her cheeks as he forced her to look at him, "You're properly clothed for it now, aren't you?"

She nodded, "But-"

"-Did you believe I'd shun you for this?"

Only then did she really see the desperate look in his eyes. He was insistent on making her see that it truly did not bother him.

"No. No, I don't."

He let out a breath, "Good." His hands wandered down to her hips, lifting her and setting her on the bed, pulling the furs over her.

He rounded the bed, getting in on the other side.

She turned her back to him, assuming that that was it.

But she heard a scoff and soon, his hands wrapped around her waist. He flipped her around and pulled her to his side. "Don't push me away."

She nestled into his chest, getting comfortable, "Thank you, Cregan."

He smiled down at her, "I've done nothing but my duty to you." His hand traced down her back, "Are you in any pain?"

She nodded, "Dully."

He shifted, moving himself onto his side, pushing her onto her back. One of his hands moved to her lower stomach, lightly massaging the sore area.

She let out a sinful groan at the relief.

Cregan continued his movements until he was sure she was asleep before pulling her more into his side and falling asleep himself.

………………………………………..

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

#fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x y/n #cregan stark x y/n #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon #game of thrones imagine #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark #cregan x reader #hotd cregan #cregan fanfiction #cregan stark fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic

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rafesangelita · 3 months ago

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what if rafe found kook!sweetheart!reader’s girl blog? omg and he see’s some nsfw reblogs…

warnings: use of the nickname ‘daddy’ (just once), reader is just a girl, 18+ links

a/n: i think i would die if this really happened omg

“i still think i should join you in the shower..” you looked up at rafe’s reflection from your vanity, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “we both know how that’ll end.” you laughed, adjusting your robe before twisting the door knob of your bathroom. “i’ll be right out.” rafe watched as you closed the door behind you, collapsing onto your bed with a sigh. he wanted nothing more than to get you underneath your sheets and, hopefully, have his head between your thighs.

just as he felt himself growing hard at the thought of you gasping his name, he heard your phone ding!

thinking nothing of it, he glanced at the device on your nightstand, a few more notifications coming in. his eyebrows knitted in confusion. you always had your phone silenced at this time of night. fingertips itching to check what was making your phone go off, he muttered a quick ‘fuck it.’ before grabbing the damned thing. “tumblr?” he narrowed his eyes at the unfamiliar app icon.

[11:41 PM] lanasweetheart liked your post: “something about a manly man getting the bestest sleep in a pink hyperfeminine bed (he’s so babygirl 🎀)”

rafe clicked the notif, a ‘what the fuck?’ falling from his lips when a picture of him sleeping next to you lit up the screen. tapping on the profile icon, rafe was in for a surprise when all your posts were now at the tips of his fingers. “three thousand notes?” he was in disbelief that a photo of the back of his head peeking out of your pink comforter had gotten so much traction. “girls really go crazy over that shit?” he laughed, full on scrolling now.

rafe thought it was cute that all your posts consisted of photo dumps of your nights out with your girlfriends, cute selfies with freshly done makeup, nail pics, some rant posts here and there about drama he already had the full scoop on, but then he came across a tag that said ‘୨ৎ thinking thoughts’ that completely flipped his brain inside out.

bf looked so dilfy today, should i ask him for babies?

“you totally should.” he whispered to himself, tongue running across his bottom lip as he kept reading. the next post was a reblog.

gorgeous gorgeous girls pout and whine and whimper instead of using words

“yeah, you do.” rafe could feel heat starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. you were always so sweet and graceful, your boyfriend couldn’t help but feel a smidge of jealousy that an app got to see this side of you before he did.

i just want him to break me sometimes. slap me, choke me, degrade me.. rough me up a little bit that’s all :(

“holy shit.” he cleared his throat, his cock now straining against the denim material of his jeans. he would’ve happily done all of that for you if you asked, but then again maybe that was the problem. you shouldn’t have to. apart of rafe felt bad for invading your privacy like this, but man was he glad that he did.

love when daddy picks out my lingerie for the night <3

rafe’s jaw was on the ground. ‘daddy’???? oh, you were so going to get it. “what are you doing?” rafe jumped at the sound of your voice, having not heard the water to the shower stop. you were in nothing but a robe, the scent of your strawberry shampoo filling up his senses. “what am i doing?” he repeated your question, getting up as he placed your phone back on your nightstand.

“yeah.. did i get a text message or something?” your heart started pounding in your ears as you watched rafe’s eyes grow dark. “no. no text message. ‘was just looking through your filthy tumblr account.” you blinked, chest rising and falling as your blood ran cold. “oh?” you backed away with each step rafe took until you were finally blocked by your wall. “mhmm, turns out my sweet little girlfriend wants to be treated like a whore in bed.”

you swallowed thickly, a gasp leaving your lips when rafe’s hand wrapped around your throat. “wanna be roughed up?” he laughed, dragging you over to your bed before ripping the robe off of your body. “i’ll fuckin’ rough you up.”

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adispit · 4 months ago

Text

‘Sweet thing’

Hare! original character x bunny! male reader

warnings: predator prey dynamic,humping, overstim, mind break (kinda), breeding, slight dubcon, naive innocent reader, size kink, scent kink, creampie

notes: this idea has been stuck in my head for too long lmfao I rly went down the rabbit hole writing this 💀

You were a sweet thing, a bunny bred to be docile and kept at home like the naive creature you were! Your owner was extremely protective, never allowing you to go out and always pampering you with treats and pets!! You were the perfect house pet. However, always being at home was so boring and dull. Sure, being fawned over by your owner was always enjoyable but you wanted to be like other bunnies! Why shouldn’t a grown-up bunny like you also be able to go out and explore the huge world? All you had was a small town where you and your owner lived in, nearby meadows. There were so many delicacies you hadn’t tried yet, like wild carrots or apples! All the food you had at home were just leafy greens and pellets…so you had to formulate a plan immediately!! Sure, your owner might be a tad bit worried or maybe even disappointed but you would just go for a quick trip into the meadows nearby, only a few hours you swore!

Hence, your plan began. No better time to slip out when your owner was busy at work. Full of excitement and anticipation, you quickly jumped out of the window onto the pavement. The fields were so close! You quickly hopped your way to the meadows where the other bunnies promised there would be the precious apples and food you had dreamed about. Hungry and ecstatic, you finally arrived but the delicious food that was spoken about was nowhere in sight… you were starving! Maybe this was a bad idea, you shouldn’t have gone out, your owner was going to be so angry… Not only was the pristine and white fur they loved so much now dirtied, you were a disobedient bunny who ran away because you were too greedy…

Tears began to form in your eyes as you thought about the disappointment in their eyes and how they probably wouldn’t love such a naughty bunny anymore… You were such a silly thing, knowing nothing of the world and yet you still wanted to explore! Hours went by, and you grew tired of wallowing in your misery, it was night now anyways, it was time to finally go home even if your owner would be unhappy. At least you had a roof and a warm bed to sleep in! Trudging through the tall grass, you tried to retrace the steps you took but it was too dark. The inky darkness filled your vision as panic began to fill your heart. How were you supposed to go home now?! Oh no…you could feel the waterworks starting again. However before you could even burst into tears, your ears picked up rustling in the grass behind you.

Without a single thought left in your brain, you immediately darted in the opposite direction of whatever monster was stalking you in the night. Fear clouded your senses as you felt a shiver go down your spine. What horrors were hidden in the night? You didn’t want to know! You really should have stayed home but now there whatever was hunting you! Unfortunately you began to tire, your hunger and outbursts having sapped your energy, but you could still hear the loud thumps of whatever chasing you get closer and closer, their hot breath on your nape. Your pace slowed and the creature tackled you. Clenching your eyes shut, you willed yourself still and accepted your fate.

You could feel something caress your cheek. “Open your eyes bunny.” A domineering voice commanded you and you meekly peeked one eye out to see a massive hare over your form. He was huge! Both in muscle and size, he overwhelmed your tiny body. You didn’t stand a single chance against him. “What d-do you want, Mister Hare… I-I just want to go home..” you trembled, the stutters in your voice unable to hide your fear. A low chuckle reverberated from him, “Oh you naive thing, I just want to eat you up. You’ve been in my territory since afternoon and emitting that sweet scent. A tiny creature like you should be protected but you just happened to chance upon me, what a pity.” Hearing his words, your suspicions were further confirmed. You were never getting home and a big bad hare now wanted to eat you. You went slack, what could you even do now… “O-okay, Mr Hare, just make it quick… I don’t want to be eaten painfully and slowly…” you were ready, this would be how you went…

“You misunderstood me bunny. I’m not eating you up literally, I’m going to breed you so you reek of me all over like my property.” Confusion filled your face but not long before you felt him grind against your pelvis. Oh. He meant that… Forgetting your initial terror, you immediately flushed red. You had never done this before..and your owner forbid it, saying something along the lines of “I’m not ready to be a father”. Wait, but you were both males, how could you both mate?! Your obvious inexperience and bewilderment must have been evident because Mr Hare laughed again. “It doesn’t matter if you’re male, there’s still a hole, you silly thing.” He grunted. Not waiting for your reply, he hoisted you onto his lap, the curve of your ass now rubbing against his huge bulge.

You could feel the copious amounts of precum wet the thin shorts your owner had insisted on giving you for the sake of “propriety” and yep there they went, as Mr Hare ripped them off. A whimper escaped you as the friction of his cock rubbing against your perineum sent sensations you had never felt before running through your body. “Uagh-?!” A surprised moan ripped from your throat as you could feel something thick fill your hole. His fingers were in you! You felt his fingers graze something in you that made you clutch at his shoulders in a fit of pleasure. A knowing smirk appeared on his face and he repeatedly jabbed at the spot, “I found your prostrate.” He snickered.

“N-nng- ah! T-too much!!” You keened as you buried your face in his shoulders, your body spasming at his relentless teasing of your prostrate. Shortly after, a loud sob left you as your cock squirted all over your stomach, leaving you limp. “Can’t have you weak before I breed you bunny.” Mr Hare clamoured as he left a chaste kiss on your lips, a sharp contrast to his rough man handling. Pushing you into a mating press, the head of his throbbing dick pushed at your weakly twitching rim. Glancing down at his cock, terror filled you at the size of his dick, that was monstrous!! “N-no, wait it won’t f- AGH” Before you could protest, he sharply thrusted into you as you wailed out in shock at the sudden intrusion.

Growling, the hare left no chance for you to complain as he snapped his hips against yours repeatedly like he was a man possessed. “You really are so tiny, look at your small excuse of a cock bunny…you deserve a good breeding..” he teased as his cock plunged into you. Endless whines left you as the onslaught of pleasure left you orgasming over and over again. You could only weep as Mr Hare painted your insides white without an end in sight. “P-please sir, it’s too m-mu-much!” You pleaded but your pleas for him to stop fell on deaf ears. “Gh- just gotta give you one more load one more bunny, gotta make you full of my cum.” He murmured as he grasped at your waist tightly. Oh that was sure to bruise tomorrow. Teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, you could only mindlessly mewl in response as another dry orgasm wracked your body.

The sun was rising and you were a sight to be seen. Eyes rolled in a dry orgasm as you unconsciously grinded back on the hare pistoning away at you, a mess in your own bodily fluids and the semen dripping from your abused hole. Unable to take anymore abuse, you blacked out and before you slipped into the welcome embrace of the darkness, you could feel yourself getting cradled and picked up and a kiss pressed to your dry lips.

You were definitely never gonna go out again.

note: why does no one ever talk about how hard it is to write smut OMG 😭😭 I legit spent an hour stressing over what to write so it sounded stimulating enough and legit 😞 anyways take this pathetic piece pls have mercy lol its like my first time writing smut (despite the fact I read smut 😭🙏)

Reblogs are appreciated :) if you want a part 2 lmk!

Pt 2 is here : Mates (Sweet Thing Pt.2)

#sub male reader #bottom male reader #x original character #mlm ns/fw #male reader smut #mlm #smut drabble #male reader #uke male reader

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flw3rrr · 4 months ago

Note

Could you please do one where the reader is Javis sister and she barley survived the tornado five years early. She’s married to Tyler now and something goes wrong during a chase and the reader ends up getting severely hurt and Tyler and Javi risk everything to save her. She’s unresponsive but ends up being okay

Promise me

Tyler owens x fem!reader

Warnings: slight Swearing, injured reader, Angst, Fluff, No mentions of Y/n, flashbacks to trauma

word count: 2k

A/N: Tysm for this request! I hope this goes to your Liking and please feel free to request more💖

Have a request? feel free to send me it in my inbox!

The only thing you could hear was your bother. Javi was screaming your name in the distance as you laid on the grass, your vision almost a blur as you stared at the gray sky above you. Everything felt slow and calm, as if everything was alright. But nothing was alright, barely surviving an EF5 with harsh winds throwing you around at a failed attempt to capture data of the tornado.

Not even noticing or feeling the intense pain within your lower body, just staring at the sky as if it were comforting you. In a blur, Javi stood above you, looking almost horrified as he looked over your body. immediately taking notice, a wood peace of a fence went through your right leg. "Stay awake, alright?" Shaking you slightly to keep your brain still aware. The rest of his words were muffled, not minding as you felt something pulling you above.

The last thing you heard from Javi was him yelling at you in a panic to try to stay awake more and wait for the paramedics to come rescue you before your vision went black in the most peaceful way you ever felt.

Five years later

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror at the gas station, letting the cold water run over your hands as you cleaned them thoroughly, getting rid of any germs you had on your hands for just being in the bathroom. Your wedding ring getting more shiny as the water ran through it. Bringing a smile to your face just five years ago, you were on the edge of death and now a happily married woman to none other than Tyler Owens. The tornado wrangler.

A knock broke your train of thought as Lily spoke from behind the door. "Are you almost done? Some of us have to use the bathroom too, yknow?!" Quickly drying your hands before opening the door to meet Lily. "Yeah, I'm done now. Sorry, I was just in my own world for a quick second." letting out a little laugh.

Patting your shoulder as Lily closes the door shut quickly with the sound of the lock turning. Turning away and approaching Dexter, who stood in the aisle looking at the batteries. "Need extras?" You asked, crossing your arms.

Along with Dexter and Dani, you helped them a bit with navigation, but mostly you hung out in the truck with Tyler, Boone, and Javi. Having to take it easy since the injury that took place on your leg left you weak and needed an easier job.

Having such love for this job made you never want to quit at all. As soon as you were discharged from the hospital, you wanted to go back out, but with ears full from Javi and other friends, you waited. Three years later, you still were getting the strength you had on your leg. It was hard as the years went by as Javi went on to continue to storm chase, then some time in the military. But it was all worth it as you met Tyler, who brought more happiness to your life and as well some new friends.

"Not really, but I'm getting some of these just in case you'll never know when something happens." Dexter's voice pulls you out of your thoughts once more. "Ah well, you're right on that one; you can never be sure." Giving a warm smile before hearing a voice behind speaking up. "Be sure of what?" Tyler's voice was heard as his hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him lovingly.

Just at the sound of his voice, it already has you a blushing mess, it doesn't matter if both of you are married; you'd never get over it. He always treated you fairly and kindly and with respect, and you gave the same in return.

Looking up at him with a big smile and back to Dexter. "He was just telling me he's getting extra batteries just in case, y'know?" Tyler let out a laugh with a shake of his head. "always thinking ahead, which I greatly appreciate. In fact, today is supposed to be easy. With the stats we are seeing, it should be at least something tiny." Now walking out of the building with Tyler and approaching Javi, Dani, and Boone, who was checking the camera storage.

"How you feelin'?" Javi asked as you approached him by the truck. Javi has always worried for you since the injury and always double checks if you're sure you'd like to continue on. It always made you smile though; Javi was the best brother you could ask for, and you'd never wished to replace him ever.

"I am feeling good, Javi; no need to worry about me. I don't need two people to keep checking up on me every second." Tyler also always asked you if you wanted to join and go through, and it made you always feel like the safest person on earth.

Just earning a small nod from him before Tyler spoke once to the whole group, announcing one minute left before heading out. Crossing your arms, you looked at the sky. The wind was not strong, but it made your stomach turn, feeling a sense of unease and worry. Taking deep breaths to desperately fight the flashbacks, closing your eyes and trying to focus on the sound of your breaths before a hand sat on your shoulder, taking you back to reality.

Looking over your eyes met Tyler once more; his face looked concerned for you and worried. "Is everything alright, sweetheart?" His voice even carried the sound of concern. Giving him a slight smile as you turn to fully meet him, placing your hands on each side of him and holding onto him. "Of course I'm fine, Tyler. Don't worry about me." Giving a reassuring squeeze before he spoke up.

"But I'm supposed to worry about you; that's my job as your husband. Don't forget that." letting out a slight chuckle and a smile to boost the mood between one another. A chuckle escaped past your lips. Your head landing on his chest, hiding your smirk from his comment. "I could never forget Tyler... I love you too much to ever forget that," a soft smile placed on your lips.

His face lowered down to meet your's to place a soft and quick kiss against your lips. Both of you taking in the moment just the two of you as the wind slowly picked up. "Not to bother your guy's little moment, but uh, it's time to get goin'." Lilly's voice spoke, breaking the moment.

Getting in the back of the truck with Javi as Tyler sat in the driver seat and Boone in the passenger. You usually preferred the back when you felt uneasy, giving a sense of comfort. Just as Tyler started to drive, talking to the viewers through the camera, you and Javi kept an eye on the wind speeds and closely monitored, giving every piece of information to everyone.

Javi looked away for a couple of minutes to talk to the camera, joining in the fun as you kept a close eye on the monitor. The winds picked up speed, the sky got darker, and then rain began to pour down harshly. Glancing up, you look at the funnel slowly forming, doing the math and analyzing the size. This wouldn't be some EF1…

"Woah, do you guys see that now that is a good one?" Tyler spoke to the viewers once more as Boone turned to show it forming. Your body froze, unable to move. Every thought and memory came back in a flash quickly.

"Javi, I need to get this data; it's the most important one I can ever get." You spoke loudly, trying to be heard over the high winds, clutching the computer in your arms tightly. "But you'll get yourself killed; it's not worth it!" Javi yelled, trying to get you back in the van to safety.

Just as you turned back, it was too late, as the large EF5 looked as if it wasn't moving. With a great chance, it was approaching your way.

Coming back to your senses once again as Javi looks at you with worry. "Are you alright? What's the matter?" Both of his hands on your shoulder, Tyler looking at you through the little mirror, as Boone just kept the camera away from you for privacy. Quickly showing your brother the wind speed and then pointing to the almost formed tornado and speaking only five words. "We need to leave now."

But it was too late; it had already formed into a massive EF5. With no little time, Tyler quickly started to drive. Your eyes locked on the tornado in fear. "I can't see shit!" Tyler yelled through the loud rain.

"Just drive go go go!" Boone yelled. Then everything went slow for the second time in your life. The sudden calm feeling you enjoyed and overwhelmed you. You take notice of everyone's expressions. Javi was petrified as his right hand gripped on your arm. Tyler's eyes shut, hands gripping the wheel, his wedding ring shining brightly. And Boone was holding onto the camera dearly.

Then it went back to normal with a sound of a crash, then darkness once more. Perhaps it was how you were meant to go? Or someone above was cradling you in their arms, offering comfort and safety; whatever it was, it felt as if it were a dream.

It only felt as if this comfort lasted a second. The sound of a constant beeping rang through your ears. A feeling of a rough blanket beneath your fingers as you slowly moved them. Then a comforting hand laid on your forehead, slowly stroking your hair. A deep breath leaves from you before your eyes slowly flutter open.

It took time for your eyes to focus as the bright lights lit the hospital room, and the first face you met is with Tyler; he had a cut on his face going over his nose. His smile grew as you made eye contact. "Hey there.." He softly spoke, his hand still slowly stroking your hair. "What.." Your voice hurt, throat was dry, and you had a lot of head pain. He shushed you quietly before placing a loving kiss on your forehead before speaking.

"The truck flipped over... and a lot of crazy things happened. but you were the most injured. Some brain damage and bleeding. but nothing too bad." His face frowned as he gave you the story of what had happened that day.

"How long..?" You slowly leaned up with the help of Tyler and a couple of tears.

"Three weeks." Those words shocked you; it only felt like you were out for a mere second. Taking a good look around the room, you looked and saw flowers and a comfy blanket at the bottom of the bed. "Javi and the others?" You turned your head with a wince.

Tyler gave a kiss to your hand before he took a seat beside the bed. "They are all alright, I promise you. They even visited you, but you won't remember since you were out," letting out a soft laugh. You gave him one in return, which sounded heavenly to him; not hearing your laugh in three weeks was a nightmare for him. not knowing if you'd ever wake up.

Tyler looked at you with such love; his hand never let go of yours. placing one kiss upon your hand once more before speaking. "Can you promise me something?" His eyes looked at you, silently begging you to hear his question, giving him a slight nod. "Promise me that anytime from now on you will always tell me when something feels wrong or you feel uneasy, please." Reading his face, your injury left him tired, eye bags under his eyes, almost as if he waited those three weeks for you to wake up. Placing your hand on his cheek softly, caressing with your thumb before speaking up. "I promise"

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens #twisters #tyler owens twisters #tyler owens imagine #request #requests open #requests are welcome

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yeonzzzn · 8 months ago

Note

I'm in a spooky vibe rn and I've been thinking about one of the enha members (hyung line) with a scream mask ( y'know from the movie sjshsj) about to m*rder reader but idk they get turned on and both got freaky 🫦

fffuuuuccccckkkk anon your brain is 😍 love this idea so much (fun fact scream is my favorite slasher movie and I even have a ghost face tattoo) I hope this is exactly what you’re looking for🤭 it’s funny because I also main ghost face in dead by daylight so when I saw this request I got SOOOO happy ~ I also made this a lot longer than I expected to but oops🤭🤭

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chill & kill: sim jaeyun

part one of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 6.4k

You sit up on the couch, eyes widening as you grab the TV remote and turn up the volume.

“The mysterious ghost face kill strikes again, killing two more college students in the library this morning. The bodies were discovered by…”

You quickly shot to your feet, grabbing your jacket and camera and slipping your feet into your boots tying them quickly as you slipped out your dorm door.

You never were so happy to live on campus as you ran from the dorm building and across campus to the library. Students surrounded the main entrance and you pushed your way through finally seeing the inside of the library.

“Hey!” a police officer yelled at you when you slipped under the caution tape, “You can’t be back here!”

You eyed him, pulling out your student journaling ID, “I have every right to be here.”

The officer tried to protest, but you kept your stride, making your way to the bodies ignoring the yelling officer behind you.

The closer you got, the more the smell of blood filled your senses, making your skin crawl. Your journaling partner was already on the scene, standing at the edge of the other caution tape marking off the two bodies.

You stood beside him, your heart sinking as you took in the bodies of the two females lying dead in front of you. They were just freshmen. Barely made it into college and fully started their lives.

From what you could see, they were stabbed multiple times in the chest and abdomen. One of their necks was slit, and the other looked like they were stabbed through their throat. They suffered, for sure.

“Who found them?” you asked him, taking your eyes off the dead bodies and turning to your partner. He had one arm crossed over his chest and gripped his elbow as his other arm was reached up and fingers gripping his chin.

He slowly tilted his head to look at you, streaks of his black hair fell into his eyes, “Funny enough,” he sighs, “Sunghoon and myself.”

You completely turned your whole body to him, “That’s why you’re here before me?! Jake, what happened?!”

Jake chucked, “You're more worried that I was here before you?” you narrowed your eyes at him, and he sighed again, completely wrapping his arms over his chest, looking back at the bodies. You could have sworn you saw a sparkle glint in his eyes. Jake has always been excited to be on the scene, same as you. But he enjoyed it a little bit more than you. He’ll make one damn good detective one day for sure, “Wanted to check out a book and saw the door already unlocked for the campus not even fully being opened yet. And that's when we found the bodies.”

“Where is Sunghoon now?” you asked, looking around the library, spotting him with the librarian and being questioned by a detective.

You went to walk over, to ask him questions, but Jake stopped you, putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you towards him, his arm wrapping around over your chest, “Don’t question him, he’s really shaken up,” You wanted to protest, only for Jake to squeeze you tightly against him, your back pressing further into his chest, “Please, YN, he’s my best friend. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

You sigh and nod. Letting Jake take the lead with this one.

But you still had a job to do. So you pulled out your camera, taking a few photos. Once you finished with the photos, you pulled your journal from your back pocket, asked Jake a few questions, and took his account down then turned back to the bodies and took your own notes.

You circled the area, taking in every inch and piece of information you could. Jotting down everything in your little notebook.

Jake kept his eyes on you, watching you do your thing. His eyes sparkled more the longer his eyes lingered on you. He eventually dropped his gaze and went back to looking at his best friend, watching as he sat at one of the tables, knees pressed to his chest and hands curled into his hair. The small smile Jake had fell at the sight of his best friend and—

“Jake!” You called for him, bringing his attention back to you, “I think I found something.”

“Oh?” He walks over to you and kneels down on the floor beside you, your camera resting on your knees as you point your finger toward one of the dead girls, “What am I looking at honey?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, “Under her body, there’s a black glove,” you looked at Jake. His jaw clenched tightly, “The killer must have accidentally lost it, dropped it, or whatever. Maybe she fought them or something. I don’t know. But I want to figure it out.”

You took a few close-up photos of the glove and turned back around to show Jake, noticing a scratch mark sliding down the left side of his neck. You hadn’t seen it before since you were standing on his right side, but it looked deep and irritated, “What happened there?” You reached up to touch it, but he grabbed your hand quickly and set it down at your side.

“Hoon and I were wrestling earlier at our apartment and I hit the side of our entertainment center, I am fine.”

You thinned your lips into a line, boys will be boys you guess. Their apartment was a lot smaller than the dorms on campus, they must have been fucking around at a good spot to have knocked Jake into their entertainment center.

Eventually, the police shooed you and Jake off the scene. Forcing you two to head to the journaling office. You printed off the photos you took and made copies of your notes, passing them to Jake.

You glanced at the clock, it was now ten thirty am and classes would be resuming like normal, so you and Jake went your separate ways.

Jake was still new to being a journalist. You were a club of two, consisting of just you and another girl who helped write the articles for you while you took care of the rest. She wrote her own things, mostly on the sports or other small crimes that happen on campus, but with the ghost face killer making his rounds, you took up the role of this case with her helping on the side. At first, you took it all on yourself, but as the body count started piling up, you needed the help. So you let her help and put out an application for an extra set of hands, which Jake answered.

You’ve seen him around campus before he joined you. Was born and raised in this town. Being the town's sweetheart and golden puppy boy. You did some research on him before allowing him into your club, can’t have the killer join you, right?

He was the captain of his soccer team in middle and high school. Has taken his school’s team to the championships multiple times and was the heartthrob of the school. He donated to charity when he could and volunteered at the police station on the weekends in hopes of landing a good detective job there after graduation. He was the whole definition of a straight-A good boy student. Perfect for your team. He became your partner and you taught him everything you knew. When Jake joined, the body count from this ghost face killer was only three. But with the two bodies that were found today, it was now at fifteen.

In between your classes, you found yourself back at the club office, pinning the new photos to the corkboard in the back of the room, wrapping red string between the pushpins and possible suspects. After staring at the corkboard for what felt like hours, the other female club member came in and you helped her write the article. Give her your notes and advising as she writes.

Jake popped in and out of the office as well, brainstorming with you about the suspects and the time of events that happened. You both spun in circles that led to nowhere. You ask Jake again about speaking to Sunghoon, and he shoots you down, “Give him some time. I’ll get the police report soon and it’ll help, I am sure.”

A week has gone by since the murder in the library. You ended up shifting the corkboard from the office and into the corner of your kitchen, using the fluorescent light of the kitchen bulbs to light the board more. You leaned against the back of your couch, it being the furthest you could step away from the board. Biting at your nails as your eyes scanned every murder case. Every newspaper article and police report on the board.

Nothing made sense. Nothing connected. Whoever this killer was, they were good. Covered their tracks without so much as a piece of hair at any scene of their crimes. Until the glove.

You ran your hands into your long hair, scratching at the back of your head. You needed that police report that Jake still has yet to give you. Needed to speak to Sunghoon. There were missing pieces and those two things were important. You looked over to the clock above the kitchen sink. It was almost one thirty in the morning. But you still got up and slid into your sneakers, pulled your jacket on, and bounced out the door.

Finding yourself in front of Jake and Sunghoon’s front door, knocking loudly. There was no answer. So you did the next best thing and called Jake’s cell phone.

There was some shuffling on the other end of the door and a groan. The door opened and you find a half-awake Jake before you, his hair a mess and spreading in every direction, wearing a plain white tee shirt and a pair of black and blue checkered boxers, “YN,” he sleepily growled and then yawned, “It’s almost two am, what is it?”

“Can I have the police report?”

Jake blinked at you, “Huh?”

You crossed your arms, “The police report. Can I have it?”

Jake let out another yawn, “It’s at the school, in the office.”

Of course, it was. And the campus is closed and if you get caught sneaking in just to get a piece of paper…You sigh, “Thanks anyway,” you softly say, and turn around to walk down the stairs but stop, “Can I talk to Sunghoon?”

Jake scoffs, leaning against the doorframe, “It’s almost two am,” he repeats, “Why are you out here so late? There’s a literal killer running around here.”

You knew that. And still took that risk to come out here. The killer had to be a student at your college. Every murder had been college kids. It had to be another student. That’s what made being out here so dangerous.

“I know,” you shrugged, “But I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

Jake frowned, “You know you’re allowed to actually be a college student right? Live a normal life too?” you shrugged again, and he just scoffed again, “YN, go home and rest. Let the detectives with actual badges handle it. We can only do so much.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Let me speak to Sunghoon.”

Jake stands his ground, “No. Go. Home. Before you get yourself killed.”

You roll your eyes, “See you tomorrow then.”

Jake mimicked your words and watched as you walked down the steps before walking back inside and going back to sleep.

You didn’t understand why Jake was so against you speaking to Sunghoon. Maybe he was being protective? Sunghoon didn’t look the best after finding the bodies. He was probably so shaken up. But it only made you want to speak to him more. And that need only grew more when you noticed Sunghoon’s car wasn’t in its normal parking spot beside Jake’s.

Meaning he wasn’t home.

You’ve respected Jake’s wishes on not to talk to Sunghoon, but this matter was getting serious and Sunghoon just might be the big break you needed. So you quickly walked off the apartment complex, glancing back to make sure Jake was outside, and pulled your phone from your pocket as you kept walking and dialed a number.

“Hello?”

“Sunghoon, where are you right now?”

—

You found him atop the bleachers of the soccer field just like he said he would be. A soccer ball sat between his feet, grass scuff marks were at the ends of his jeans, and sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows and sweat dripped down the side of his face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he came here to kick the ball around. Probably as a distraction.

You sat down beside him, “How are you holding up?”

Sunghoon scoffs, “Holding up as in a week ago I found two dead bodies in the middle of the library or holding up because I’ve been questioned left and right by everyone or my best friend/roommate has smothered me to stay home and take time.”

You felt bad for him, mostly for what you’re about to ask him. He wanted to obviously forget what he saw, who could blame him? It takes special people to see a dead body and not be fazed by it.

“I’m sorry for asking you to do this again…”

Sunghoon just shrugs, “If I am being honest, I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now.”

You raised your brow, “Yeah?”

He nodded, “Jake was against it,” he took a deep breath, “Something was off that day…with him.”

“What do you mean?” You placed a hand on his knee, “You can tell me anything. Start with the beginning.”

Sunghoon looked you in your eyes, then looked off into the distance at the field, “He told me that morning he was meeting our coach, for a one-on-one coaching session. At first, I didn’t think anything about it, being he was a soccer prodigy or whatever.” You nodded, remembering how much of the soccer star Jake was back in high school, “So you could probably understand my surprise when I got a call from our coach saying he tried to get ahold of Jake and then he confirmed with me that they did in fact not have a meeting that day.”

You sat back against the bleacher seat behind you, staring off onto the field, letting the gears in your brain slowly turn, waiting for Sunghoon to continue.

“I got scared, rushing out of the apartment and searching everywhere for him. Scared and thinking I was going to find my best friend murdered somewhere, ya know?” You understood, with this killer on the loose everyone was watching their backs and afraid. Who would be next? Who is next? “But I found him, lingering around the library building, digging through his soccer duffle bag. My heart almost stopped when I saw him…alive,” he took a deep breath, “So I confronted him, and he played it off that he did have a practice, but was with his coach from high school.”

You looked back at him, to read his face. Seeing how pale his skin was becoming, “I believed him at first, thinking maybe I misheard that morning. So we started walking back, but he kept digging through the duffle bag, looking frantic. He wasn’t acting himself. Said something about needing to go to the library, about finding a book or something, and then took off. But I followed after him. I didn’t want to leave him alone, not with ghost face running around. But when I got to the library, I…couldn’t find him. I saw him go through the back door instead of the front. But once I walked in and noticed all the doors were already unlocked…then I found the bodies.”

You squeezed his knee, “It’s okay.”

He nodded, swallowing and looking down at the soccer ball, “I smelt the blood first and then noticed their bodies. And then…then there were footsteps behind me and I knew that I was next. But the library walked in through the front entrance and started screaming, her eyes darting to me, saying we did it. I turned around to see Jake standing behind me. His skin was pale and sweaty. Eyes wide as he stared back at me and then at the bodies and the librarian. He’s never been surprised to see the bodies. He’s been working with you for over half a year. So when I saw the look on his face…the surprise that was there.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Sunghoon kept going, “The weirdest thing is his duffle bag was missing from his shoulder,” Sunghoon scoffs, “How did it just disappear.” It was a good question. A very good one. “He hasn’t been the same since then.”

You tried to lighten the mood, “Maybe you knocked something loose in his head when the two of you wrestled the other day.” Sunghoon gave you a confused look, “You know? He said you two got too close to your TV stand and he got scuffed up by the edge of it. Making a scratch on his neck,” you pointed to the right side, tracing a finger down the side of your neck to mimic where Jake has his slowly fading scar now, “It’s right here.”

Sunghoon raised a brow, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We haven’t wrestled inside the apartment.” Your smile faded. Sunghoon’s phone started vibrating and he pulled it from his pocket, seeing Jake’s caller ID on the screen, “Guess he noticed I wasn’t home.” Sunghoon locked his phone, ignoring the call, “I haven’t been telling him when I’ve left the apartment. So I better prepare myself with a talk when I get back.” He stood up and started walking down the bleachers, “Thank you for listening to me, I don’t want to suspect my best friend, and it probably isn’t even him. He’s just weird, I guess.”

You watched as he disappeared before standing up and finally finding yourself back at your dorm and in bed. Replaying Sunghoon’s story over and over, trying to piece it all together. It still didn’t make sense. None of it did. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop you from texting Jake, asking him to meet you at your dorm as soon as he could tomorrow, and him responding he had soccer practice but would be here right after.

—

“You should really keep your front door locked, YN, there’s a killer out there.” Jake teased you as he made himself at home, dropping his duffle bag into a chair at your kitchen table, his eyes going to the corkboard, “Make any progress yet?”

You stared down at the duffle bag quickly before looking up at him, then back to the board, “No I haven’t. I left my door unlocked on purpose. Knew you’d be coming here.”

Jake smiled at you and stood beside you at the back of your couch, looking at the board, “We’ll catch him, don’t worry honey.”

You glanced at him slightly, your heart winced at the nickname he’d given you. You looked to his neck, seeing the scratch still healing but faded, being nothing more than a pink line.

Jake looked down at you, giving a smile, “Can I freshen up in your bathroom? I bet I don’t smell the greatest from practice.”

You scrunch your nose, “Yes, please. You smell.”

Jake just rolls his eyes playfully and slides his hand up and down your back quickly before leaving your side, “I’m stealing your deodorant.”

You waited until you saw him turn the corner and heard the bathroom door close and lock before slowly walking to his duffle bag.

You didn’t want to suspect Jake anymore than Sunghoon did. But his story last night didn’t add up. No part of it did. Jake’s actions didn’t add up. Jake’s story he gave you didn’t match Sunghoon’s or the librarian's. None of the pieces were adding up no matter how much you tried to force the pieces together.

You looked down the hallway, then back at the bag, and slowly unzipped it, your hand flying to your mouth quickly to stop any noise from coming out. You took a couple of deep breaths and continued looking into the bag.

The police report you asked for along with the glove from the scene of the crime was in the bag in a ziplock bag. Along with the other matching glove and the ghost face mask and the black suit. You pulled the mask out of the bag with shaky hands. Why did Jake have these items? You knew. You knew why and still tried to find another explanation. But after seeing the contents of his bag…the pieces of the puzzle fit. Everything clicked and made sense.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to go through people’s things, honey?” before you could move, a knife was pressed to your neck and his other arm was wrapped around your waist, “I expected better from you than to snoop around.”

Jake’s hot breath was hitting your ear, sending chills down your spine. Any doubts you had were now out the window. Jake is ghost face. Jake is the killer.

“Keeping secrets is very rude too,” you retorted back, dropping the mask back into his bag, “But I figured you already knew that I found out, hint why you leave your bag so easily for me to look through.”

Jake chuckles, squeezing his arm around you and pressing the knife further against your skin, “Can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head at the movement of him brushing the side of his face to yours.

“Why did I do it?” he nuzzled his nose on the shell of your ear, “You’ll need to be specific, honey.”

You swallowed, “Everything.”

Jake chuckles again, “Because it’s fun.” It was such a simple yet spine-chilling answer, “You think I played this fucking good boy persona because I actually wanted to? No, no. I had to play that persona. To hide my secret. This is all a game to me, YN.”

“It’s why you joined our club,” you swallowed again, “To make it harder for us to figure you out.”

Jake shrugs, gently biting at the shell of your ear then rubbing his nose against it again, “I thought it would add to the fun, honestly. Yeah having an inside made it so much easier. It covered my tracks well. Until you started picking up on every. Fucking. Thing.” he hissed, tightening his grip, “You made it harder to cover up my tracks. Picking apart every smallest thing with each murder. I was lucky you didn’t suspect me, that was until you started poking your nose more into my business, you don’t think I didn’t know you tore the office apart looking for the police report before coming to my apartment? That you talked to Sunghoon even after I told you not to?”

“You have our phones and the office bugged,” this should surprise you, but it doesn’t. It made sense.

He pressed his lips to your ear, “Smart girl. Think I wouldn’t bug your phone? Or my best friends?”

“Jake, you were going to kill him, weren’t you.”

Another low chuckle, “Yes,” your body stilled, feeling cold, “It would have been a pity, really, to kill off my best friend all because he also stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have.”

You looked down at his bag, seeing the bag gloved, “You went back to the library for the glove, you fucked up.”

He growled in your ear, “Shut up! That bitch fought me instead of taking it. I didn’t even realize my glove was gone until after I murdered them both and fled the scene. That’s when Sunghoon showed up. I knew I had to go back and find where the fuck my glove went before someone else did. I didn’t know he was following me until I went to go back and check the bodies after tearing apart the other side of the library and saw him standing there. I quietly set my bag in one of the reading rooms and locked the door, slipping my knife into the back of my jeans. Preparing myself to kill my best friend.”

“All to keep your fucking secret,” you snapped at him, his hands on your body getting tighter.

“Watch it, honey,” he hissed, “You do have a knife to your throat right now.”

“She fought you right? Probably knocked off your mask too. She saw your face, and you acted quickly and sliced her throat. Not before she left her own scratch on your neck.”

Jake nodded, a wide smile on his face, “Nothing gets past you. You’d make a great detective someday, honey.”

You needed to turn him in. Needed to get out of here and turn him in before he could kill anyone else. Fifteen. He’s murdered fifteen people. Probably more before he took up the ghost face mantle.

Jake pressed his chest to your back, “You know,” he whispers, “I’ve dreamed about doing this with you, my knife to your throat,” he rocked his hips against your ass, “It’s so fucking hot.”

It was now or never. You tilted your head to the side, taking the skin of his forearm between your teeth and biting hard.

“Fuck!” he shouted, his hand flexing and dropping the knife to the floor and his grip on you loosening.

You pushed him back with your back and sent him falling to his ass. You barely made it two steps away from him before both of his hands were on your ankles, tripping you to the floor and pulling you towards him.

You kicked your legs but not getting out of his strong grip. Jake worked fast to flip you over onto your back, his hands now at your wrists and holding them up and above your hand, pinning them to the floor. He straddled you, locking his legs around yours to keep you from wiggling them.

“Stop fighting me!” he growled, using all his weight to pin you to the floor.

You stopped, chest rising and falling as you stared up at his beautiful killing face.

He held your wrists down with one hand and reached for his knife with the other, chuckling as he once again held the knife to your throat, “You look so pretty like this baby, all underneath me like this.”

Jake was so turned on by this. He’s only dreamed of having you pinned underneath him with his favorite weapon against your skin. Dreamed what you’d sound and look like. This passed his expectations. It went even further than that. His cock twitched in his pants seeing the look of anger all over your face.

“You get horny every time you kill someone?” you spat out at him, the fire in your eyes burning.

Jake cocked his head, “You’re not afraid of me?”

“Why would I be afraid of a horn dog who likes killing people?”

Jake laughs, adjusting his legs from yours, using his knees to spread your legs apart, sliding himself between them, “Baby, you’re the only one I’ve ever got horny over. The others were just killings to kill. But you? You do something to me.”

From the moment Jake first saw you on campus he wanted to be buried balls deep in your cunt. Wanted to fuck you so hard as he softly made cuts on your arms to watch you bleed as your moans of pain and pleasure filled his ear holes. Wanted to cum so deep within you and make you his.

He had more than just joined the club to hide his killings as his reason. He wanted to get closer to you, get to know you. Then kill you after he got his dick wet. But what he didn’t expect was you figuring him out so soon. His plans got pushed up. He wanted you afraid of him as he killed you. He didn’t expect you to look at him with fury, so unafraid.

Jake leaned down, being inches away from your face, the knife pressing harder against your neck, “You get me so hard,” he rocked his hips between you, his hard cock rubbing against your clothed cunt. You tried to not whimper, to keep your firm face, but the effect he was having on you down south was obvious. He wasn’t stupid, you knew that.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been crushing on Jake since he walked into the club for the first time. How couldn’t you? He was perfect. Still was as he sat atop you with a knife to your neck.

You relaxed your body, “If you’re going to kill me, then do it.”

Jake smiled, “Want me to?” He released your hands from his grip and slid the knife from your neck and down to your shirt, his free hand looping his fingers at the collar, using the knife to cut a line, tearing the fabric and exposing your laced bra and skin. Jake tucked his lip between his teeth. Fuck you looked so much better than what you did in his dreams. So much better than he imagined. He slid the tip of the knife down your chest, rounding it around your breast and down your sternum, “Where should I start?” He placed both hands at the sides of your head and bent down, lips brushing against yours, “Tell me, baby.”

You lifted your head, connecting your lips to his. Taking in the taste of his cherry chapstick and the softness of his lips. He rocked his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth, “Start by taking the rest of my clothes off.”

He laughs against your lips and then pulls away, setting the knife down at your side to pull his famous white tee shirt off his body, “Yeah?” you nodded, eyes darting to his bare chest and abs, “So fucking dirty,” he cooed, “Should have known you were into killers.”

You sat up on your elbows, ready to reach for the button of his jeans, but found the knife back in his hand and the tip pointing at your chest, “Lay back down, baby, no need to be so impatient.”

His free hand touched your shoulder and gently pressed you back to the floor. You kept your eyes on him as he unbuttoned his jeans, the knife still in hand as he wiggled out of his jeans and boxers, leaving him bare to you.

You watched as he took his length between his fingers, slowly pumping himself, him biting his lips. You were growing too impatient. Needing to feel him against you, in you, “Jake,”

“Shhh, honey,” he whispers, dropping his hands to your shorts, “I know.”

The cool metal of the knife brushed your skin as he pulled your shorts and panties down your thighs. Goosebumps formed on your skin and making Jake chuckle, enjoying this more than he’d thought, “You love the way my knife feels against you?” He tossed your clothing somewhere off into the void of the room, settling himself back between your legs, his tip prodding your entrance, “love the way it feels to glide against your skin?” He sent the knife sliding up your tummy, his hips pushing his cock in your pussy, slowly stretching you.

Jake bottomed out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He hissed out in pure pleasure of finally being buried so deep inside you, the pleasure of how fucking good you felt wrapped around him, “fuck baby,” he smiles, sliding the knife to your waist, wanting to cut open your skin and see how pretty your blood would look pooling out, “feel so good and I’m not even moving.”

You bucked your hips up against him, wanting to feel any kind of friction. Jake drops the knife to the floor, his hands pinning your arms above your head again, “I told you to stop being so impatient.”

“Jae, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I need you.”

Hearing you beg for him had him gone and all he cared about now was fucking you. To make you feel so good until you’re cumming around his dick.

Jake started out slow, burying his face in your neck, “Why aren’t you afraid, hmm? I could kill you right now.”

You leaned into him, squeezing your legs tighter on him to push him even further into you, “Because I have secrets of my own.”

Jake chuckled, bucking his hips harder and faster into yours, his lips pressing to yours. Tongue sliding down your throat and exploring your mouth. One hand leaving yours to cup your breast, his thumb and index finger pinching your nipple, “Tell me your secrets.”

“You already seem to know them all, stalker,” you hissed, throwing your head back against the floor at him pinching your nipple harder in the same movement of him pushing his dick hard against your cervix, pressing so hard to break whatever barrier that was stopping him from completely filling you whole as his hip bones knocked against yours.

“Tell me anyway,” he whispers between kisses, now sliding his mouth down to your ear, licking the shell of it, “I don’t know what you haven’t texted or physically talked about.”

“I have feelings for you,” you felt insane saying it out loud. Felt crazy that you even admitted it to him. To the person who was fucking you into pure bliss. To a murderer, “I’m obsessed with you, Jake.”

Jake bit down into your neck, both of his hands sliding underneath you to wrap at your shoulders, fucking his hips against you faster. His teeth sank into your skin tearing it slightly, a small sprinkle of blood escaping.

“Fuckkkk,” he moans, tasting the brassy liquid on his tongue, “Even your blood tastes good.”

He was fucking crazy. You knew he was. But everything about him drew you to him. Made you want him more.

And him hearing how obsessed you were with him made him even crazier about you.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, “Letting me fuck you like this, looking so pretty for me this way.” He bucked his hips faster, adjusting his legs on the floor to spread yours even wider, giving him more access to hit your weak spots and to hit them just right.

You pulled at his hair, “Jake!” you moaned out his name, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap, “I’m going…fuck…I’m going to cum.”

“Please,” he groaned, “Cum for me baby,” he sticks his tongue out, flattening it against the bite he left on your shoulder, licking up the new blood that pooled out, “fucking cum around my cock for me, honey.”

A few more thrusts and you came around him. Tingles spread throughout your body at the feeling of your release. Jake moans at feeling the mess you’ve made on his cock, him working his dick faster in your cunt to chase out the release he wants. The one he’s dreamed about having with you. His hand only did so much for him with his thoughts while back at his apartment. But now he was balls deep in your sweet pussy, having you right where he wanted you.

“Gonna cum soon,” he panted, hands squeezing your shoulders, “fuck I want to cum in this cunt so bad.”

You pulled at his hair harder, the overstimulation hitting you hard, “Jae, I can’t—“

“I know, baby,” he pressed his forehead against yours, his brows furrowing and eyes shut tightly, “Going to fill this pussy to the brim, understand? This pussy is mine.”

Jake pressed a kiss to your lips and lifted up, taking your legs and pressing them to your chest, pistoning into you faster but sloppy, “Shit,” he hissed, “Fixing to cum—fuck—I’m cumming, honey, I’m cum—“ one final thrust, and his white ropes spilled into you. He pressed his hips against you and held them there, making sure every last drop of his cum made it deep within, none to be wasted.

“Fuck,” he cursed, slowly lifting himself back up and dropping your legs back to the floor, “Sex with you was so much better than in my head. I only dreamt how good this pussy would feel. How good it’d feel to cum in you.”

Jake was definitely more obsessed with you than you were with him. And he honestly didn’t care how obvious it was.

“Fuck I am in love with you.” he chuckles, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

You tilted your head to the side, seeing the knife sitting there idle. Jake clocked where your eyes landed, but he wasn’t fast enough as you quickly grabbed it, being the one who now held the knife to his throat, the fire in your eyes back.

Jake might have just came, but his dick twitched and hardened again between the walls of your fuck hole. His crazy smile is so wide and his eyes so lustful. Seeing you so ready to end him right here and now made him crazier. Made him crave you even more.

He wouldn’t kill you now. No, no. How could he kill the love of his life? How could he slide that knife into your skin and cut you open? You were precious to him, more than what he thought before. Maybe the sex drew him in, but you weren’t getting away from him that easily.

“Awe, babe,” he cooed, taking your wrist in his hand and slowly removing the knife from your hand, “This is how this will go now,” he tossed the knife across the room and out of reach, pinning your arms back to the floor, slowly rocking his hips, “You will keep your fucking mouth shut, got it? Close this ghost face case and if anyone asks you don’t know anything about it. Give it up. All for me, okay baby?”

You nodded, not being able to say no to those brown eyes. It was toxic, whatever relationship you just found yourself in. You became that girl in books and movies who fell for the killer. It surprises you at how fast you were willing to drop everything for him. To keep his secret.

He kisses you gently and fucked you on the floor until you both came again and again and again.

What did you get yourself into?

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

#yeonzzzn asks #— 🔪 anon #jake bby #jake sim #sim jake #sim jaeyun #sim jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #ghostface au #enhypen hard hours #yeonzzzn writing #ghostface!jake

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starlightsalvatore · 5 months ago

Text

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

i'm back !!! I needed to write a damon one-shot while I work on a new fic and this just tumbled right out of me lol

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: everything??? drinking, swearing, blood sharing, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p-in-v, a tiny bit of degradation?? this is self indulgant filth, seriously 18+ mdni

You ran a hand through your hair as you walked back and forth, unsure of what else to do with the restless energy surging through your system as you tried to fight one of your most basic, primal urges… hunger. Your fingers drummed against your thigh as you tried to focus on anything else, find something in your brain worth occupying your mind and switching course from the visuals running through your head. Your recent transition had been a shock to everyone, and Stefan had you on a tight leash to keep you in check… and you’d been on board, at first. You never wanted to cause harm, to be the reason someone else’s life ended, but with the itch in your veins threatening to undo you completely you couldn’t really find it in you to care anymore.

You heard your door push open and your head snapped up to see Damon walking in, two glasses and a bottle in his hand with an unamused expression, “if you don’t knock it off I’m going to have to replace the floor,” he said, setting everything on the dresser before pouring two generous cups of bourbon.

“Not now, Damon,” you sighed, ignoring him entirely as your feet remained on course.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked and you shook your head.

“Not really,” you said as he shoved a glass in your hand, his eyes telling you to drink which you did… all in one gulp and he was a little surprised as he took it to refill.

“Well, something’s gotta give,” he replied as you finished the second as quickly as the first. “At this rate the bottle will be gone in a minute and I’m not replacing original flooring.” He gripped your shoulders, halting your movements and you huffed, looking up at him.

“I’m hungry, Damon,” you said, as if it pained you to do so and he furrowed his brow.

“The freezer is full- oh,” he cut himself off, realizing that’s not what you meant as a smirk spread across his features. “You want your blood at 98.6,” he said and you rolled your eyes, pushing him off you.

“Will you cut it out?” You poured another glass, hoping at some point the alcohol would subdue your cravings but you knew that was about as likely as him leaving you alone, so you tried another angle. “I can’t… Damon, the blood bags aren’t doing it for me, I can’t think, I can’t sleep… will you please take me out?” For a moment you thought he’d say yes, revel in the opportunity to feed with abandon with someone else, but it wasn’t that easy.

“No can do, sweetheart,” he replied and your brows pinched. “I’ve got enough on my plate without you losing control and giving me more bodies to deal with.” He was right, there was too much going on and you spinning out wasn’t an option, but that didn’t make it any easier of an answer to tolerate. He gave you a once over, it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to take you out… he would have loved to, but you were new and he knew you could eventually get to where he was, one day you’d be able to feed and leave them alive with no memory of what had happened, but that day wasn’t today, you had a long way to go and he couldn’t afford to have you slip up.

But… he couldn’t afford to have you slip up. One look told him you were wound tight, the diet Stefan had you on was restrictive, never enough to fully satisfy, and the less you drank the tighter you spun, threatening a catastrophic snap he could only assume was looming on the horizon with how frustrated you looked right now. He ran through his options, knowing letting you sit in this hunger any longer would result in a much bigger problem, but the only thing he could think of posed another set of issues and would lead to him teetering on the edge instead of you.

He let out a sigh, closing the distance between you and plucking the glass from your hands to discard on the dresser and you looked up at him questioningly, the invasion of space catching you by surprise. His normally bright eyes were dark and swimming with something you couldn’t understand, deep blue pools you found yourself getting lost in as you waited for him to say something. “You need to feed,” he said and your eyes fluttered shut just at the thought.

“I need to feed,” you whispered and he nodded, catching your chin between his fingers and forcing your head back up when you tried to look down and the action had your breath catching somewhere in your throat.

“You still haven’t felt it, have you?” he asked, voice low and you shuddered. “What it’s like to sink your teeth into something…” you shook your head, Stefan hadn’t allowed you to drink anything that didn’t come from a cup. “Poor thing,” he chuckled, he could feel the tension radiating off you in waves, you were practically shaking beneath him as you fought to retain your grip on your sanity, on your control.

“Damon,” you sighed, eyes pleading and he just smiled as he gripped your hand and brought it up to his neck, the pulse beneath your fingers driving you wild.

“When you feed you have to be careful… if you bite just along here,” he said, dragging your fingers along the vein, “you can control the flow. It doesn’t have to be messy,” he explained and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the subtle way his skin moved with each beat of his heart, the sight bringing the veins beneath your eyes to the surface, your fangs descending.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, noticing you trying to rein it in, and you were having a hard time focusing on anything with the way his hands were trailing up your arms, pulling you closer. “Go on,” he tilted his head just slightly, “give it a try.” he encouraged and this pulled your focus, eyes snapping to his as you tried to ascertain if he was being serious. You had a lot left to learn, but blood sharing was personal, and you knew that… but all you saw in those dark blue eyes was a fire simmering beneath the surface you were sure was a mirror image of your own.

You slowly reached onto your tiptoes, as if he were a deer in the woods threatening to startle and bolt, but the closer you got the harder it was to resist, anticipation burning through your veins at the prospect of giving in. Your fangs were tentative as they broke the skin just where he’d indicated, but the first drop of blood immediately made you feel dizzy and intoxicated… It wasn't enough. You quickly grew feverish, your hand wrapping around his throat as you surged forward, crashing into the wall behind you and he let out a grunt as his back collided with the hard surface, pinned in place as you fed.

“There you go… that’s it,” he said, leaning back as he relaxed and let you take what you needed. His arm snaked around your waist while a hand brushed the hair from your face, cradling the back of your head as warm blood radiated through your body. A soft groan fell from his lips as you drank from him, and the sound elicited an unexpected reaction from you, your hand tightening around his throat and your body pushing flush against his and despite everything in you telling you to continue, you forced yourself back knowing if you didn’t stop you’d bleed him dry.

Your eyes were wild and satisfied as they met his, and he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, collecting the remnants and you were almost surprised when your lips wrapped around him, ensuring you didn’t waste a single drop. His smirk returned when he felt your tongue slide across his skin, “better?” he asked and you nodded, keeping him in your mouth for maybe a second longer than you needed to. The air was charged between you, you’d just crossed a line in the sand and you wanted to push a little further, go a little farther…

Part of him knew he should put an end to this… stop before it went any further. He knew it before he’d even offered up a vein for you, he knew as soon as he did he’d be teetering on this ledge and he didn’t have that much self control when it came to you. Perhaps, if he really analyzed the situation, he knew somewhere in the back of his mind why you’d been so worked up, he knew what you needed and instead of letting you wreak havoc on the blood cooler he let you push him against a wall and take what you wanted, he let you feed from him in the most intimate way he could think of.

And when you were looking up at him like that, eyes mischievous and holding an unspoken challenge with his blood still on your plump lips, who was he to resist? Your chest was heaving with anticipation as you waited for him to do something, anything, and the movement was so fast you almost didn’t register his hand curling around your throat, flipping you around and slamming you against the wall with such force you were sure you’d be dead if you were human. Your gasp of surprise was swallowed by his mouth on yours, searing and frenzied as he connected your lips and kissed you with a hunger that rivaled your own only moments ago.

You both fought for dominance, neither one of you willing to submit just yet but you were outmatched… he grabbed your wandering hands and pinned them above your head, grip so tight you whined as he kissed down your neck, biting into you the same way you’d done with him and you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips as he did. Your hips rolled forward and feeling his hardening length against you gave you the surge of confidence you needed to break your hands free, sliding down his chest to pull his shirt apart, buttons flying and clattering against the floor as you pushed the fabric over his shoulders.

His lips were greedy across the expanse of your chest as he nipped and sucked the soft skin, tearing your shirt to shreds as he pulled it from you, a mess of fabric in your wake as you surged forward and pushed him into the wall opposite you, regaining your upper hand. Glass shattered on the floor around you as the force rattled the dresser but you couldn’t find it in you to care what had broken as your hands pulled his belt free, fingers quickly undoing the button as you sank to the floor and pulled his jeans with you.

His length stood erect in front of you and you were quick to take him in your mouth, focusing your tongue on his swollen tip as your hand worked what didn’t fit, and you couldn’t help but moan around him at the groan that fell from his lips, “such a good girl,” he cooed, his sweet words undercut by the harsh hand in your hair gripping and pulling you closer, forcing you to gag around him and the sensation had his head falling back against the wall. Tears sprung to your eyes at the sharp pain in your scalp and the way he was hitting the back of your throat, but all you could focus on was the throbbing between your thighs and he didn’t miss the way you clenched them together, desperate for friction.

You were quickly on your back, too caught up in the moment to bother moving to the bed and you pushed glass aside as he settled between your legs, tearing your underwear off and diving in like a man starved and you could feel his smirk against you at your surprised moan, head hitting the floor as your back arched in pleasure. He switched between your clit and your entrance, not giving either attention long enough to give you what you really needed, and you whined as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging harshly.

“Damon, please,” you sighed, hips bucking against his face and he focused his attention on your sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue expertly working you up as you shamelessly moaned his name. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew with the way you kept slamming each other against walls and the floor, the breaking glass, and the sounds falling from both your lips someone might come to make sure you were alright, but you couldn’t find it in you to care… not when he felt as good as he did between your legs.

Your moan changed in pitch when he slid two fingers into your entrance and it went straight to his cock, his head swimming as he watched you come close to falling apart above him. When he crooked his fingers just so your grip in his hair tightened, pulling him closer as you started to grind against him, “fuck, just like-” you were cut off by your own moan when he started massaging that spot inside you, legs trembling as you careened off the ledge. His touches remained merciless as pure euphoria surged through your veins, your head cloudy as your body trembled.

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against you, kissing his way up your body and you tugged him closer to reconnect your lips, tongues swirling against each other as you tasted yourself on him. His hands felt greedy and possessive as they roamed over you, gripping tight enough to leave bruises that would heal before they even had a chance to form, and it was as if neither of you could get enough. You pushed forward, tugging him up with you and all but throwing him onto the bed and his smirk was devilish as he watched you crawl on top of him.

He looked like he was about to say something but you didn’t give him the opportunity as you kissed him, rough and demanding as your hips settled above his, hand reaching between you to line him up at your entrance and you both let out groans as you took him inch by inch. The stretch was sweet, filling you almost to your breaking point as you settled fully and started to roll your hips against him, shuddering at the feeling.

“Fuck,” he moaned as you started to bounce up and down, setting an unforgiving pace and you felt like you could feel him everywhere, every nerve ending radiating with fire. He sat up to wrap his arms around you, hips bucking to meet yours in a way that had your head rolling back and he took the opportunity to sink his teeth into your neck and you had never felt pleasure like this before. His hand was firm around your throat as your body shook with each thrust and soon you were boneless in his lap, only able to hold yourself upright as he drank you in.

When he pulled back you licked along his lips, face changing at the taste of blood and he swore he’d never seen anything sexier. Neither of you was going to last much longer, not like this, and he delivered a rough smack to your ass that had you whining and rolling against him. “Oh my god,” you breathed out, letting your forehead fall against his and he smacked again, gripping the tender skin, “Damon-” you tried, but nothing would come out.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he teased, gripping your hair and pulling you back to look at him, “oh, look at you… all cock drunk and fucked out,” he teased and you had nothing to say as a firm thrust had you seeing stars. You buried your face in his neck, fangs sinking into his skin as you felt your release barreling towards you, the mixture of blood and his steady thrusts too much to bear and a streak of red trailed down your body as you came, only able to shout his name as you cried out.

Your grip on him was maddening, pulling him right over the edge with you as you milked him for everything he had, and when you both slowed to a stop you were having a hard time catching your breath, your mind floating somewhere above you as you tried to return to your body. You felt his tongue along your chest, cleaning up your mess as you leaned back and he tried to commit the sight to memory… your hair wild, cheeks flushed, and skin dewy as blood lingered along your skin.

You still weren’t fully with him, stuck in a haze as you felt him whisk you into his bedroom, and into the bathroom and it wasn’t until you were under the stream of water with him that you hummed contently against his lips as he kissed you softly, “there she is,” he chuckled.

His hands were delicate as they roamed you, and yours slid down the front of his chest as you looked up at him, doe eyed and happy. “That was…” you trailed off, unsure of what word to use to fully sum it up and he placed another soft kiss on your lips.

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” he provided and you laughed as you swatted his chest.

“Hush,” you replied, feigning annoyance but you didn’t have it in you to feel anything other than bliss. The rest of your shower was spent with wandering hands and sweet kisses, a stark contrast to how rough and domineering you’d been with each other and when he pulled you into bed and wrapped himself around you, you looked up at him as your fingers trailed along his chest absentmindedly.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, and you flushed slightly under his gaze.

“It was more than I dreamed of,” you answered, and he raised a brow in question. “I haven’t… I hadn’t done that since turning, I didn’t know it could be like that,” you explained and realization passed over his features.

“My god,” he chuckled, “no wonder you were wound so tight.” His hand on your back was comfortable, holding you tight against him as he rubbed soothingly, “we’ll go on a little trip this weekend,” he said as you rested your head on his chest.

“A trip?”

You felt him nod, “away from all the chaos here… we’ll find you some warm bodies and I’ll teach you how to do it the right way, you don’t have to live a life of blood bags forever.”

“I don’t know, you seemed to do the trick,” you teased and he laughed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re missing.”

#damon salvatore #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore x you #damon salvatore fan fiction #damon salvatore fanfiction #damon salvatore smut #damon salvatore fluff #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fan fiction #tvdu

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acey-wacey · 6 months ago

Text

True Love's Kiss

Feat. Idia, Azul, Vil

Synopsis: You've fallen under a mysterious sleeping spell. Who can wake you up but your true love?

...

🎮 Idia Shroud 🎮

"ME?!"

Idia's shriek resounded through the infirmary before he was hushed by one of the nurses. He shrunk back in his embarrassment and turned back to the cheeky cat that was standing on the infirmary bed next to your sleeping form.

"Yes, you, shut-in. What have you got brimstone on your ears?" Grim scowled at the blue-haired boy who's hair was becoming quite pink with embarrassment. "Who else would kiss my henchman awake?"

"Literally anyone else, maybe?" Idia argued, hiding his face behind the collar of his jacket. "It's always Prince Charming in the stories. I'm about the farthest thing you could find."

"I think you're plenty charming, Idia!" Ortho chimed in with what would have been a smile if he didn't have his mask on. "Who's to say you won't break the spell?"

"I say," Idia groaned, his voice muffled by his jacket. "Aren't there any other cures? I thought Professor Crewel was working on an antidote."

Before Grim could open his mouth, Ortho interrupted.

"Nope! No other cure!" Ortho beamed with glee uncharacteristic for delivering grave news. "I already scanned and if my databases say there's no other cure than there's no other cure and you have to kiss them!"

Idia whined in mortification and buried himself further in his jacket, now almost entirely engulfed by the fabric, except for the tufts of flaming hair sticking out the top.

Grim tapped his paw impatiently, quite fed up with Idia's reservations. Every second you were asleep was a second that your poor, poor kitty boss went without tuna (he couldn't reach the cabinet where you put the cans).

"I could always go get Leona. He's a prince, so it's close enough, yeah?"

"No!" Idia shot up, his hair flared up in red, startling Grim so bad, Ortho had to catch him before he fell off the bed. Idia took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair until it returned to its regular electric blue.

"Don't even joke about that," Idia muttered through gritted teeth. "Makes my skin crawl to think of that grubby jock getting his slimy lips anywhere near Y/N."

"Fine, if you don't want anyone else to do it, then what's the issue?" Grim put his paws on his hips and shot Idia an impatient look. "You like them, they like you, they probably want to kiss you anyway so just hop to it! I'm starving over here!"

Idia snapped up in shock at Grim's words.

"Y/N... likes me?"

Grim scoffed in ridicule and rolled his eyes.

"Duh! What, have you been living under a rock? Oh, wait, you have, haven't you?"

Ortho immediately began protesting Grim's insult. Idia himself might've been offended if he wasn't preoccupied with his overheating brain.

Why in Wonderland would you like him? I mean that was just a ridiculous claim even though both Grim and Ortho seemed to believe it. Not many people even liked being around him much... but then again, you weren't other people.

You were the one who messaged him to go to sleep at midnight after gaming for too long. You brought him snacks and sat in comfortable silence in his dorm while he played video games. You never expected more from him and without realizing it, he has gotten used to having you next to him. It even happened sometimes that he would turn to say something to you while he was gaming, only to find you weren't there. It baffled him how you made your way into his daily routine almost without notice.

"Do they really?" Idia asked softly, catching the attention of both Grim and Ortho who had been exchanging some heated words of childlike manner. "Like me, I mean."

Ortho giggled at his brother's bashfulness.

"Of course they do! They never shut up about you!" Grim huffed, recalling the countless times he'd heard you practically gushing about the vitamin D deficient geek. "No clue why though. Guess Y/N likes 'em pale and sickly."

"I'm not- whatever," Idia didn't really have the fight in him to argue with Grim's impression of him. He took a deep breath and looked at Ortho. "Do you really think it would work?"

"Only one way to find out!" the little robot responded cheerily.

"What if..." Idia gulped. "What if it doesn't work and I just kiss them for nothing? What if..."

"Shut up and pucker up, dracula! I'm wasting away without my henchman!"

That earned Grim a pair of yellow-eyed glares.

Idia collected himself with a deep breath and leaned towards you.

"Nope, nope, nope, this is a bad idea, I can't do this," he panicked, standing up and waving his hands around in anxiety. Grim rolled his eyes and jumped onto Idia's shoulders, pushing him onto you with all the momentum the little creature could muster.

It was effective. Idia toppled forward onto the infirmary bed, catching himself just in time to not crush you, but not before his lips brushed yours.

Idia jumped back, crashing to the floor quite devoid of grace. He, Ortho, and Grim all held their breath, waiting for something to happen.

"Aw, man, our first kiss, and I wasn't even awake for it!"

Idia brightened at the sound of your voice. He jumped back to his feet to see your drowsy eyes locked on him.

"Hi, Charming," you lazily smiled at the blue-haired boy. "Thanks for rescuing me."

Idia's face went slack with shock and his face turned so red you were afraid he might explode.

"Perfect! Now that you're awake, get me tuna, human!"

...

🐙 Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

"This is such a bad idea."

Deuce echoed for the nth time since Ace had come up with his little scheme.

"I know but just think," Ace smirked at your sleeping body, which the two were carrying through the Octavinelle dorm, Ace supporting your arms, Deuce carrying your legs, like they were carrying a dead body. "Imagine the look on the prefect's face when they wake up and see Azul They'll probably think they're dreaming."

"Yeah, I think they've had that dream before," Grim scowled from where he rode atop your belly. "Wouldn't be surprised with how down-bad they are for that slimy little junior mafia boss."

"It'll be fine, I'm sure," Ace dismissed, ignoring Deuce's concerned look. "And if anything bad happens, it'll probably be the prefect ending up with a contract, not us."

"That's kind of a terrible thing to say about a cursed person," Deuce pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Pssh, where'd your moral compass come from, huh?"

"From my mom," Deuce spat defensively. Ace was about to respond when they were both startled by a looming figure standing menacingly behind Deuce.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Both first years gulped in fear at the sound of the eel's unison voices.

"Is our poor prefect injured?" Jade frowned though his eyes held a devious sparkle.

"Sort of..." Grim started but jumped back when Floyd grinned at him menacingly.

"We can't have Shrimpy being hurt, now can we?" he flashed his sharp teeth at the sleeping prefect. "We'll take 'em off your hands, fix 'em up real nice."

"Will we get them back?" Ace asked, fearing the answer. Jade responded with a squinty smile.

"That remains to be seen."

"Hey, wait a minute-!" Deuce tried to protest but was cut off when Floyd lifted your limp body with two hands and flung you over his shoulder.

"Careful, Floyd," Jade warned. "We can't have damaged goods."

The unfortunate trio was left to watch as you were hefted into the Mostro Lounge, wondering if they would ever see you again.

Meanwhile, in the Mostro Lounge, Azul was peacefully tallying profits in his office when his door was kicked down.

"What the-" he shrieked. Azul stared in horror as Floyd barged into the room with a body flung over his shoulder. "Did you... Did you actually kill someone this time?"

"Not this time," Floyd responded cheerfully. Azul managed to stand up from his chair right before Jade swept everything off of the polished mahogany desk in front of him.

"What are you doing?!" Azul yelled but was quickly silenced when Floyd set your limp body down on the now-empty desk. "Is that Y/N?"

"Yup!" Floyd said, popping the "p" with a sly smile.

"Are they...?" Azul asked hesitantly.

"Just sleeping, fortunately," Jade responded with a similar grin. "But I'm afraid it's the work of magic. They won't wake until..."

At this point Azul was very concerned. His crush was unconscious on his desk and his business associates were far too smug to have good intentions.

"Until what? Seven's sake, just tell me why you brought them here!"

"Very well," Jade bowed his head in respect that felt more mocking than anything. "The prefect will remain asleep until they are woken up by true love's kiss. It is the belief of myself as well as Y/N own friends that you may be able to fulfill this requirement."

It must have been at least a full minute before Azul spoke again.

Jade waited patiently with a smile as Azul stared in shock and confusion, the gears behind his eyes obviously turning at superhuman speeds.

Azul finally snapped back into his regular businessman persona.

"Well, of course, I am obviously the most qualified candidate to undertake his task," Azul said nonchalantly, though both eels could easily tell it was a front.

"We'll leave you two alone then!" Floyd winked suggestively at Azul, the octopus' calm facade cracking ever so slightly.

Jade and Floyd shut the door to Azul's office and he could hear their laughter through the wood.

Azul took a deep breath and looked at your sleeping form. You looked so peaceful, your forehead free from worried wrinkles and lips devoid of any kind of scowl. Azul was used to being on the receiving end of some of these scowls/ incredulous looks. He couldn't deny he might have deserved some of the scrutiny you gave him, given that he did attempt to trick your friends into contracts so you would have to come visit him to save them. Perhaps if you wanted him to stop, you should stop wearing that adorable pout when you confront him!

You took a breath and Azul stood up so fast it scared him.

"Sevens," Azul muttered, running a hand through his hair. "When did I get this jumpy?"

He looked at you once more, taking in every still detail about you.

"Might as well stare, since you'll never be this calm around me again," he whispered as if he was afraid you would hear him through your enchantment. He sighed contentedly as he stared at your sleeping face.

After only a few seconds, he snapped himself back out of it.

"Stop it, Azul, that's creepy," he scolded himself, taking to pacing around his room. "Though to be fair, kissing someone who is under an enchanted sleep is far more creepy than just looking at them."

He peered at you again. Though it was easy to admire your serene expression, it was uncanny to see your face motionless, without a laugh or groan or yell behind it. Azul took a deep breath and steeled his nerves.

"Even if they hate me forever, it's worth a shot," he quietly hyped himself up. "But isn't it just true love's kiss? There's no way I'm their true love, that would be impossible. They dislike me far too much. But I would never forgive myself if I could have saved them..."

Azul grappled with his inner thoughts for who knows how long, before landing on the conclusion that he should just go for it and kiss you.

"If they do wake up, I'll apologize profusely until they forgive me for kissing them and then possibly draft a marriage contract...?" Azul hit himself in the head to snap himself out of it. "Stop it. Now's not the time to be thinking about that."

Azul took a sharp inhale and turned back to you.

"Oh, screw it!"

He exclaimed and rushed back to his desk, pressing his lips to yours before he could rethink it. It was the slightest kiss, barely even a kiss. Azul wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he had truly taken advantage of you.

He turned away faster than even the brief kiss. He held his breath, trying to notice tiny details about his walls to distract himself from the tension.

"What is... Where am I?"

Azul spun around, eyes wide with genuine shock. Upon seeing you groggily looking around, he straightened and cleared his throat.

When you turned toward the noise, you saw Azul, the absolute picture of perfection he always was. You would never have known he was feeling anything akin to anxiety if it weren't for the nervous tapping of his custom-tailored leather shoes.

"Azul?" You narrowed your eyes, taking in your environment. You were laying on a table, alone in a small room with Azul. "What is this? Don't tell me you finally got the tweels to drug me."

Azul opened his mouth to protest, a bit concerned that you were so used to stuff like that that you just sounded tired instead of worried, but he remembered his gentlemanly guise and rethought his next words.

"Honestly, Y/N, do you really think me so cruel?" Azul smirked, praying to the Seven for an excuse you would buy so he wouldn't have to explain the real situation. "I was not the one who brought you here. You were merely... dumped on my doorstep, shall we say."

"I just remember Ace and Grim screwing around in alchemy and they dropped some dumb potion..." You put together vague pieces of your memory before it clicked. "Ooooh, sleeping potion. I was knocked out, wasn't I? Bit stupid of those idiots to bring me here, but isn't that how they always are."

You jumped off the table as if you hadn't just been passed out. Azul was honestly surprised by your chipperness. You sighed and turned to him.

"So what did you do? What do I owe you?" You looked at Azul expectantly. He blinked a couple times before he felt embarrassing heat rise on his neck.

"I didn't- well I- that is to say-" Azul stared, scrambling for words. Nobody but you could make him this inarticulate. He took a deep breath and collected himself. "You don't owe me. If anything, I should be paying you for recompense."

You furrowed your eyebrows, very skeptical of any supposed kindness coming from NRC's resident schemer.

"What do you mean recompense? What happened?"

"I may have-" Azul coughed, trying to brush off what was so clearly bothering him. "This particular enchantment required-" Another cough. "I believe the particular wording was a true love's kiss. I provided a kiss of such manner. Because of the impropriety of this particular cure, I feel a certain responsibility to compensate you for such lack of consent."

You stared for a long time. Azul imagined that must have been what he looked like when Jade first told him about your condition.

"True love's kiss..." You trailed off, subconsciously bringing your fingers to your lips.

"Yes and I will be happy to provide compensation for emotional or physical damages or- or other."

You looked at Azul incredulously.

"You just told me you're my true love and you think I want money?!"

Azul was quite confused now.

"Do you not want money?"

"Well, I could always use it but at the particular moment, what I really want is for this dumb octopus to come and give me a real kiss."

...

🪞 Vil Schoenheit 🪞

It had been a few hours since you had been unceremoniously dumped on Pomefiore's doorstep. Apparently, some alchemical accident had happened, leaving you magically asleep with no known cure. Crowley had dropped your limp body at Pomefiore and offered extra credit to anyone who could fix you. It only made sense. After all, the Fairest Queen was quite proficient at potions, and so Vil prided himself on the same.

No one else had dared touch you once he spotted your body and glared at them. He had Rook carry you to the makeshift potions lab next to Vil's room. Rook, ever the drama queen, took every step to ensure your comfort while in your enchanted sleep. He set you up on a table with plush pillows and a lacy blanket. Vil thought the flowers Rook had arranged in your hands were a bit excessive but he was more preoccupied with finding a cure.

Vil told himself he was doing it for the extra credit, but really, anyone who knew him knew he didn't need it. Some part of him didn't like seeing you cursed.

For the past two hours, Vil had been rifling through every potion book he had, trying multiple recipes and feeling a little more disheartened every time it didn't work. One of the elixirs he whipped up burned right through his potted fern. He elected not to test that one on you.

Eventually, Vil came upon a book about curse-breaking.

"Can't believe I didn't see this before," he muttered to himself, flipping open the table of contents.

There was only one page on sleep spells. Vil ran his finger over the passage as he read it.

"The only way a sleep spells can be reversed is thought true love's..." Vil interrupted himself with a scoff. "That's ridiculous, that can't be the only way."

He looked over at your sleeping form, clutching your bouquet of flowers. The color was drained from your face and even the shade of your clothes looked grayer. Vil felt a pang of emotion, like a hand squeezing his heart at the sight of you so lifeless.

You were usually so full of life, bringing joy to those close to you. You stayed just out of the limelight, content to support your friends in their shenanigans but having your own fun outside of the public eye. Oftentimes, you took Vil along with you, giving him a taste of what it's like to be treated like a normal person.

It disturbed him so see you devoid of a smile or eye-roll or any sort of emotion that you wore on your sleeve.

No matter what it took, he would find a cure.

"You've already found a cure," Vil imagined you saying to him. "You're just too scared to use it."

"What do you know?" Vil grumbled quietly. Had he really fallen so far he was talking to himself? He wished you were really talking to him, really showing signs of life, even if it was to scold him. "There must be another cure somewhere. I don't care how long it takes me to find it."

"You know true love's kiss is the most powerful thing in the world," Vil's imaginary you said. "There isn't another way. And besides, would you rather me be awake now instead of in the 6 months it takes you to find something else?"

Vil huffed, more annoyed by the fact that he really didn't want to wait than what you were saying.

"Then why don't you tell me how to find your true love, hm? That'll take me longer than 6 months."

His imaginary you just stared at him, blinking pointedly. He stared back, trying to decipher what his psyche was trying to tell him.

"You don't think..." His face fell when he realized what that look meant. "It's not me, believe me."

"Well, some part of you obviously thinks it could be, because I think it could be you and I'm just in your head," you shrugged.

"I refuse," he immediately declared, turning away from where your real self laid. "If you were real, you would not agree. And by the way, who am I to kiss you while you're asleep?"

Vil looked over at your peaceful face and he swore he could see incredulity in your motionless expression.

"Stop looking at me like that, potato. I refuse to kiss you without proper consent."

Imaginary you stared at Vil again, unsettling him more.

"Come now, I don't need this from both of you," he picked up a potion book, pretending to read it.

"You could save me," imaginary you offered, your voice solemn in a way he couldn't imagine perfectly. He'd never heard you that serious. Guilt suddenly hit him in the chest, drawing his attention back to you.

Vil stared at you longingly for much longer than he would have allowed himself if you were conscious. He groaned and walked towards you.

"I want to save you, Y/N," Vil declared wistfully as he stood over you. "I do know if I can be your true love, but Seven, I'm out of ideas."

Vil leaned closer to you and brushed a hair out of your face.

"Maybe I'll be able to do this right one day."

Vil brought his lips to yours gently, barely touching them before he pulled away. He watched your face for any signs of movement. When you stayed stationary, he turned away, trying to shut out his disappointment.

"Honestly, when did I get so delusional?" Vil scoffed, desperately trying to push down his feelings. "In what sort of foolish fantasy do I count as Y/N's true love?"

"Mine, probably."

Vil whirled around, his usual grace abandoned in his shock at hearing your voice in his ears in lieu of his head.

You groaned as you sat up, a bit confused as you examined the flowers you were holding.

"Sorry, that was probably a dumb thing to say," you laughed, shocking Vil with how easily you adjusted to your surroundings. "Though I guess you really are my true love. You can't try to deny it, I've got the receipts."

Vil's lip quirked up at your instant snap back to teasing.

"My word against yours, potato."

...

Buy me a Kofi! ☕

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