#Want to fuck around and find out? Come at me

[toothfa-1-ry]

JUST FATHER ACTIVITIES

Imagine in an alternative universe, somehow you and your baby daddy Thanos escape the games (don't ask me how) and you guys pay off all of your debts and have financial stability

Basically father! Thanos headcannons!!

First of all, thanos is a girl dad. Idc i do not make the rules you CANNOT and WILL not change my mind otherwise

After the games, irrelevant of whether you were also in the games with him or not, he'd quit his drug addiction and go to a rehabilitation for the sake of your daughter

You couldn't change him, but atleast your daughter could

Thanos would go with you to the gynae every single time without fail, he'd brag about it (very loudly) though

"Look" thanos points at all the patients in the waiting room in the gynae clinic "how many women do you see with their husband's accompanying them?"

"Thanos shut the fuck up" you'd hiss at him, while hitting his arm. The women around you guys giving you the stink eye which he proudly gave back

"I'm just saying the truth- is it a sin to speak the truth?!?"

Will brag to the doctor and nurses too

"Say doctor miss" he leans back at his chair with his head held up high "how many husband's accompany their wives to the clinic?"

"Oh well that depends, not all the time-"

*insert thanos's loud proud laugh, his head thrown back while you grimace*

"I'm the fucking best aren't i"

*insert your slow head shaking* "Yes babe, you sure are"

He was always protective of you, but it grew even stronger after he found out you were pregnant

The type to protect you from a pigeon if he felt like it looked at you for a second too long

"Wtf are you looking at you cross eyed motherfucker"

*glares at the pigeon from a distance"

The type of person to hyper fixated on whatever small movement you do cause he's doesn't want you to get hurt

"Oh be careful be careful" *Holds your hand* "hold my hand and dont let go, use your other hand on the railing"

Says that he doesn't need to read or watch those "pregnancy classes" or "how to take care of a new born" classes cause he's already fully prepared

You later find out that he signed up for one of those seminars online and attends those lectures at night while your asleep

Bro probably has even stronger baby fever than you do

Buys things for the baby and you

"Thanos.. what's that in your hand"

"It's a costume, a ironman costume"

"For?"

"Our daughter 🙄 duh y/n"

"Babe, she still isn't even born"

"I got you a costume too" *takes out a black widow costume that seemed a little too racey* "you should try wearing it now just incase-"

*he got hit by you for trying to get you pregnant again while you were pregnant*

Let's say nam gyu wasn't the slimy bitch he was in the series

Best GODFATHER ever. GOATED godfather, S TIER godfather

I already mentioned this but I'm sure Thanos and nam gyu would come up with names for the baby

I'm talking wack ass names that they genuinely find cool

The list of names would include marvel character names (cause cmon, the child's dad is literally called thanos) or rapper names

"Add cardi b on the list too"

"You know that's not her real name right?" Nam gyu asked, pausing before quickly scribbling the name down

"WHAT?!? Since when??"

I'm sure nam gyu even accompanied the two of you to the clinic atleast once or twice

He was banned from coming though cause him and Thanos together made too much noise

Whenever you and thanos are in public, it doesn't matter if your in a cafe or restaurant or if your just out for a walk

If he meets anyone and i mean anyone

He'd tell them that he was gonna be a dad

"Hey do you know that I'm gonna be a dad?" *points at you* "and that's the mom- she's carrying my baby"

"Sir I'm the waiter"

On the softer note though

Kisses you on the lips first and then kisses your stomach second before you both go to sleep

If you groan or even if he senses a inch of your discomfort he'll automatically try to figure out a way to make you feel in ease

Tries his best not to annoy you

(It doesn't always work cause being annoying is his entire personality trait but it's the effort that counts!!)

Ties your shoelaces for you cause you can't bend over

Traces shapes over your stomach while you both lie next to eachother

Reminds you how pretty you are everyday

"If I'm the legend Thanos, then I guess you would be a myth, cause only a face like yours could make a man like me want to quit"

"Your so corny"

But you wouldn't have it any other way

[kwaggysshardmindemporium]

There were a few things this time five years ago when I was still working at Walgreens that you couldn't just grab and carry around. IIRC the security shelving was on the expensive ass shaving razor cartridges and baby formula. (We were a really low theft store; literally every other store I went to help out at had cough syrup also behind a lock and key at minimum.) We were just starting to install those security shelves on other shit as I was getting a new job.

And like, the theft we had was never on the stuff they were putting locks on. It was basically always just food. Some kid comes in a steals a candy bar tier stuff, not even like people are shoplifting because they're starving. The other thing that was super high theft? The knee/arm/leg etc. brace products. Oh and makeup which like obviously it's massively overpriced and tiny. Our item counts on the stuff that's all locked up now were basically always accurate or off by maybe like one.

(This turned into a bit of a ramble story so I'm adding a cut.)

That's not to say we didn't have any theft problems though. Notably we had this group of three dudes who seemed to think they were criminal masterminds. They'd come in, start shopping around. One of them would go over to the fridge, then find me or whatever other manager was on duty and ask them to check in the walk in freezer if we had more of something out of stock. The other two would grab up whatever they thought they could pocket that would resell to whoever the fuck was buying their shit. It was not subtle, but they were aware that the rules about customer service would prevent us from doing shit to *prevent* this and also about half of management self included did not really give a fuck. (Personally, I appreciated that there was at least an *attempt* at craft and that they were always pretty polite and if something tripped them up they wouldn't get aggressive or anything. As far as thieves go, pretty alright bunch for the most part.)

Then one night they tried to like, run a Payday mission on our ATM? I was off duty that night so I only heard about this later, but apparently they decided to try for a big score. They did the same play, but instead of pocketing stuff they tried to drill into thr ATM to get the cash box out. This uuuuuuh... did not work. They had no idea what they were doing, and the ATM was literally adjacent to the front register, so upon the cashier returning from whatever thing they were asking them to look for they were immediately caught. And then upper management formally filed for a restraining order so these dudes weren't allowed in ever again.

And to be clear, while I say store management didn't care about this, the actual boss of our store HATED these dudes. Wanted them gone. Had been asking corporate what she could do about this for literal years. I started working at this place in 2016, under this very boss. She had already been trying to do something about this for some time from the moment we met. Overall, this store probably lost thousands in cost (not potential profit, cost) from these guys doing this. Corporate didn't even pretend to care. But the second they try to grab a couple thousand from the other corporation paying them to keep an ATM in the front? As nuclear an option as they have without sending these days to straight up jail.

>go to cvs for toothpaste and cold medicine

>hit button for employee to open the toothpaste case

>grabs it before i can

>"i have to hold this at the front for you until you check out"

>go to cold medicine aisle

>ring bell for employee to open the cough medicine case

>nobody shows up

>ring again

>nobody shows up

>check case

>case is unlocked

>take cold medicine and go to check out

>grab toothpaste from unmanned register

>have to use self checkout

>scan cold medicine

>"age verification needed please wait for employee"

>employee comes over and cards me and then leaves

>finish self checkout

>walk through literal piles of discarded receipts at exit door

another beautiful non hostile day in our great country

[flowersforbucky]

where the lines overlap

logan howlett x reader (dofp!logan x mutant!reader)

word count: 8.7k

summary: no one gets under your skin quite as much as logan howlett - and he knows it, too. sex pollen trope.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, sex pollen so dub con, frenemies to lovers? they aren't enemies but logan and reader don't really get along, reader is a mutant with pyrokinesis, reader is afab, reader is described as being smaller than logan, no use of y/n, wet dream, fuck or die situation, oral, pet names (bub, princess), brief pain kink for logan, unprotected p in v, cream pie

author's note: takes place after the events of days of future past - so everyone's alive, charles is old af, and logan has a pretty streak of silver in his hair. not proofread super well so please ignore any errors.

There's certain things that you like to think about when you're pissed off. It’s a coping mechanism that you learned in therapy at the ripe age of eleven.

Go to your happy place or whatever.

For you, that's the mansion's courtyard after a fresh snowfall, and having the library all to yourself on a rainy day, and the comfort of your bedroom on one of the rare days that you aren’t teaching, or training, or on a mission.

At this point in your life, you’ve forgotten just about everything you were taught in that therapist's office. It's not like you had wanted to be there, but your parents had been worried and scared – and rightfully so. With the unexpected emergence of your pyrokinetic abilities came multiple accidental house fires born out of preteen angst.

So they did the only thing they knew to do at the time – stick you in therapy in hopes you would acquire some anger management techniques.

These days, you have a pretty good handle on your powers. With a lot of time and effort, you learned to control them – and not just control them, but yield them in a beneficial and productive way.

All of that progress comes dangerously close to going out the window anytime you're in close proximity to Logan Howlett.

Maybe all is an exaggeration – but no one else makes your fingertips burn hot with fire that threatens to break through the barrier of your skin quite like him. From his bossiness to his arrogance and attitude, you’ve clashed heads since the first day you met him.

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault.

You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him.

You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass.

A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

He looks at you with an amused expression. “See? Too much force.”

“I didn’t know that having giant forks for hands made you an expert on throwing knives.”

He exhales a breathy laugh, staring at you for several seconds before turning to pick the dagger up from the ground. He then proceeds to collect the rest of the knives that you had previously thrown from the body of the practice target.

In heavy silence, he struts over to you with the daggers in hand. He turns to face a wooden target board, finding the balance point of the knife before sending it flying through the air.

Bullseye.

“A long time ago, when I first joined this team, Charles made me practice a non-power related method of self-defense, too.” He pauses, lining the second dagger up with the practice dummy. To no surprise, it’s another perfect throw.

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

“How to annoy someone by sneaking up on them and giving them unsolicited advice while they are minding their own business?”

You position your feet once again, holding the knife up in preparation to take aim. Your eyes dart back and forth between the blade and the target ahead of you. You hesitate, feeling nervous under his gaze.

Logan moves from standing beside you, to standing behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as his large figure looms over you. If he were to took a step forward, his chest would brush against your back.

He uses the tip of his boot to nudge your heel forward half an inch, adjusting your stance. He takes your right hand in his, and you have to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

A wave of annoyance washes over you that he’s able to fluster you so easily. It makes you as pissed at yourself as it does him. He’s barely touching you – his hand dwarfing yours is the only point of physical contact, but you’d think that he were pinning you up against a wall with his body.

You tell yourself the sudden light-headedness and increased heartrate is because of the newfound closeness, and nothing more. You’re used to being around Logan – the two of you live together and work together. His general presence is nothing new. But the intimacy of your current predicament is.

And maybe the fact that notes of tobacco and bourbon are infiltrating your senses doesn’t help.

“As unsolicited as my advice may be,” he says lowly as he pulls your hand back slightly, “I give it because if there is ever a situation where someone's trying to hurt you, and you’re unable to light them on fire for some reason, I would really hope that you could at least impale them.”

He tightens his hold on your hand, and then snaps both of your wrists forward. Surprisingly, your brain registers to release your grip just in time. When the tip of the blade impales the center of the target perfectly, he drops your hand.

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

“Much better. Now come back upstairs. Charles needs to see all of us in his office.”

••••••

You and Logan are the last people to enter Charles’ office.

Storm, Scott, Jean, Marie, and Bobby have all found places to sit throughout the small room. Logan chooses to lean against the door that clicks shut behind him, while you exhale in relief at the sight of an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, next to Marie.

“Ah, how nice of you two to join us,” Charles greets. “I was starting to think that Logan got lost on his way to retrieve you.”

You force out a laugh, earning a side-eye from Marie as Charles launches back into whatever he had been in the middle of before you two interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Marie murmurs to you. “You looked a little sick when you walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug her off without looking at her. You keep your eyes on Charles. “Yeah, I'm just tired. Been training all morning.”

What were you supposed to tell her? That you were thankful to be wearing a tactical suit so that Logan couldn’t see all of the goosebumps that bloomed across your skin when he was practically breathing down your neck less than five minutes ago? Or that the walk back up to Charles’ office was filled with a loaded silence in place of your usual bickering and banter?

Marie might be one of your closest friends, and you trust her, but Logan is something of a fatherly figure to her. There’s no way you’re letting her hear those words come from your mouth.

You try your hardest to focus on all of the information that Charles throws at you. You’re all to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning. When he explains where you’re going and why, chills run down your spine.

Alberta, Canada – more specifically, Alkali Lake. All of your friends seem to tense up at the mere mention of the place.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the urge to sneak a glance to try to gauge Logan's reaction. You’ve never been to Alkali Lake before, and you’re far from excited about going – you can only imagine how he feels, given his history with the abandoned military base.

After no word of any activity surrounding the base for years, Charles had been made aware that the recent disappearance of a group of young adult humans had been traced back to Alkali Lake – to a modern day subsidiary of the group Weapon X.

The same group responsible for Logan’s skeleton being made from adamantium.

This, of course, is where all of you come in.

After a detailed rundown of the goals for tomorrow – the main one being safe extraction of the humans – Charles dismisses all of you to rest for the remainder of the day.

When everyone stands up, you finally risk glancing at Logan, but he’s already opening the door to Charles’ office and strutting away.

••••••

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs.

His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly.

You're putty in his hands.

“I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

You can only guess that the sounds he’s referring to are annoyed sighs and you telling him to shut the fuck up, but right now, you don't care enough to ask for any clarification.

“Yeah?” You yelp when his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. “Maybe if you spent less time pissing me off you’d get to—”

You're cut off by him plunging the tip of his index finger inside you. You writhe against him, your walls constricting around the digit.

“Less time pissing you off, more time letting you fuck my fingers and face. Got it.”

The slamming of a door somewhere outside of your room causes you to bolt upright in your bed.

You open your eyes to darkness except for the red glow of the numbers on your digital alarm clock that read 12:26 in the morning. Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and your skin is clammy with a thin layer of sweat. You throw your covers away from you in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck—”

You whisper the three words to yourself over and over again until your breathing resumes a normal pattern.

You’re alone, of course. In the comfort of your private room, where you had fallen asleep several hours ago. The difference between now and then is an uncomfortable pool of wetness between your legs, soaking your underwear.

You can’t even recall the last time you had such a vivid sex dream. It felt utterly lifelike – you reach down between your legs, trailing your fingers over the skin of your inner thighs where you had felt his beard tickle and tease you.

How the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, when you’re having to work together to rescue humans from Alkali Lake? How are you supposed to come up with smart-ass remarks for his endless taunting and teasing when you’re going to be trying your hardest to not replay the images of his hazel eyes looking up at from between your thighs?

“Get a fucking grip,” you whisper hiss to yourself.

It’s Logan. The same Logan who acted like he was too good to say more than ten words to you the first half a year that you were with the team. The same Logan that tries to get you benched for the dumbest, smallest reasons he can think of. The same Logan that condescendingly calls you kid or princess every chance he gets because he knows it gets under your skin.

You need a glass of water. And some fresh air, and a cold shower—

You start by picking up the pair of sweatpants that you’d discarded before falling asleep a few hours ago. You step back into them, deciding to trek to the kitchen for some ice water. Your mouth feels as dry as cotton.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away.

Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

You clear your throat to announce your presence, not quite trusting your voice to speak. He looks at you over his shoulder, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips.

You walk over to the cabinet beside him, keeping your eyes off of him entirely as you get a glass.

“What's got you awake at this hour?” He closes the fridge, leaning back against the edge of the countertop. The only light in the room now comes from the small, dim bulb above the sink.

If he only fucking knew, you think. If he only knew that the real reason you are out of bed right now is because you’d just woken up from an extremely graphic, jarring dream of you riding his face.

You fill the cup up with cold water from the kitchen sink and take a large swig before once again turning to face him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” you answer with a vague gesture to his half-dressed form and beer bottle.

He takes in your appearance, too. His eyes trail from your exposed feet, to your baggy sweatpants, and up to your even baggier t-shirt before settling on your face. You feel particularly vulnerable under his gaze right now. You compare how you look to how he looks – with his stupid abs that look like God himself chiseled them from stone and his sweatpants that hang just a little too comfortably.

You sip on your water just to keep from biting your lip.

“Guess we were both thirsty,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Guess so,” you hum, and because you don’t want to fall into an awkward silence and it’s the only thing you can think to add, you say, “Nervous about the mission?”

His expression darkens and posture tenses at your question. “I am,” he admits. “And if you knew as much as I do about that place, you’d be nervous, too.”

You huff. Your grip tightens around the glass in your hand at the mere insinuation that he knows your feelings. “Who says that I’m not?”

“If you’re going, you’re not nervous enough.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, knowing damn well the direction that this conversation is headed. You’d heard it all from him before – anything to keep you as far away from him as possible.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—”

You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over.

“Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

“I’m very aware of how long you’ve been with this team, bub,” he says calmly, which makes you all the more heated.

“For three years you’ve spewed every bullshit reason you can think of to keep me on the sidelines,” you laugh. “I wish you’d fucking admit that you just don’t like me. It’d be a lot more respectable than acting like you’re worried about—”

Logan’s gaze drops to the glass in your hand, making you come to an abrupt pause. You follow his stare, realizing that you’ve managed to melt the glass where your fingertips grip the glass. Water begins to leak out from the holes, spilling onto your sweatpants and the floor below you.

There’s no visible flames emanating from your fingertips. Your anger hadn’t progressed to full on fire, just intense heat, but still. No one else makes you come as close to losing control as him.

No one. And he seems to know it, too. You can tell by the smug look on his face.

You dump what little liquid is left into the sink before chucking the distorted glass into the garbage.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his.

“Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

You rip your hand away from him, an exaggerated look of disgust on your face. Your recent dream pops into your head and you have to remind yourself that he’s not Jean or Charles – he can’t read your mind.

“You're lucky that you've got those handy healing powers,” you spit as you once again begin exiting the kitchen. “If I thought there was a chance of it actually shutting you up, I’d burn more than just Charles’ vintage glassware.”

You hear him say your name, but you’re already speed walking back to your room and playing your list of happy place thoughts on a loop in your head.

The soup that Storm makes when everyone at the school seems to get sick at the same time. One of your younger students picking you a flower. The smell of fresh laundry, the crisp pages of a new book.

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

You would have been better off just enduring the discomfort of a dry throat, you think. You don't know what's worse – not being able to sleep because you're rattled from a wet dream about him, or not being able to sleep because you've once again allowed him to get under your skin.

You crawl back under your covers, hoping that when you close your eyes, you don't see his face again.

••••••

Logan doesn’t make any more appearances in your dreams for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t stop him from being the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in the morning.

And as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, the only thing on your mind the entire flight from New York to Alberta.

From the tension that filled the air when he corrected your knife throwing technique yesterday morning to the warmth of his calloused hand when he grabbed you by the wrist in the kitchen last night, you're fighting a losing battle with no one but yourself.

As far as you can tell, he’s utterly unaffected. The fact that he chose to sit directly in front of you on the jet instead of any of the other empty seats says as much.

Not even ten minutes into the flight, you're staring at the tufts of his hair and his broad shoulders when you have to remind yourself that there's two telepaths occupying this jet with you. Though you trust both Charles and Jean to not read your mind without cause, the mere possibility of either one of them accidentally tuning into your thoughts and seeing a replay of your most recent dream or hearing you think about what it would be like to tug on those stupid fucking tufts of hair that resemble kitten ears is enough to mortify you.

You find yourself grateful that you brought a book and headphones with you to distract yourself for the duration of the trip.

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath.

“Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water.

It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

As much as he infuriates you, you still care about him. You wish you could say that you didn’t, but the fact that you feel the urge to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze makes that pretty hard to deny.

That urge dissipates as quickly as it comes over you. The bitter chill of the mountain wind and your teammates voices pull you back to reality. You awkwardly fiddle with one of the daggers strapped to your thigh instead.

“Jean and Scott, the two of you take the west side of the building,” Charles instructs when the group nears the discreet entrance. “Bobby and Rogue, clear the east wing. Storm and I will be keeping watch outside to make sure that no one tries to escape with the humans.”

“What about us?” you ask with a slight nod towards Logan. The fact that neither of you had been given instructions yet leaves it to be assumed that you’ll be paired up together.

You and Logan working as a pair was nothing out of the ordinary, and although that typically comes with a lot of annoyance, right now you can’t help but feel a little relieved by it.

Even if you are still irritated at him for his behavior and choice of words in the kitchen last night and even if you do think of him between your thighs every time you look at him for more than five seconds, he’s still more familiar with this place than anyone else here.

And no matter how much he makes you want to tear your hair out, there's never a time that you feel unsafe when he's near.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk.

“I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble.

“No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

Logan snorts, earning curious glances from everyone other than you and Charles. He does get a nasty side-eye from you – a silent promise to deliver on last night’s threat to find something to burn other than vintage glassware.

Your teammates split up into their respective groups upon entering the base, leaving you to follow Logan's lead towards the lower levels.

It’s unsettling just how silent it is. The only sounds are that of yours and Logan's boots against the ground. You'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the building.

And it's cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones ache. You instinctively flex your fingers, focusing on the warmth that radiates from the tips.

As the two of you make your way through the dark, seemingly endless basement, checking each room for signs of life, you can't help but think of Logan being here under much different circumstances.

You don't know the full extent of his time here – even he only remembers bits and pieces. But you know enough to know that this can’t be easy for him.

The fact that he's being uncharacteristically quiet only reaffirms that. He makes none of his typical taunts and jabs, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

You find yourself damn near wishing he’d make some snide comment about how you’re walking too loudly and how being partnered up with you feels like babysitting duty – if he did, maybe then you wouldn’t feel this annoying, persistent worry over his mental well-being.

“Logan,” you begin quietly as the two of you approach a large set of hospital style double doors at the end of a corridor. “I know being here can't be easy for you. I'm sorry that you have to be.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, not meeting your eyes as he slowly pushes one of the doors open, peaking into the room before stepping inside and holding the door open for you.

“Just part of the job, bub,” he sighs. “I know what I signed up for.”

You enter, walking past him into the dark room. You shine your flashlight around the cramped space. Right away, you can tell that it’s vacant, as all of the other rooms you’ve checked have been. But it’s different – whereas most of the rooms have been completely empty, this one contains multiple twin sized beds. No frames, no pillows, just plain white sheets on each one.

“I know you do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and he shines his own flashlight around the room from right behind you.

“It’s okay, princess,” he snorts. “I’m a big boy. You don’t gotta pretend to be worried about me.”

Princess. Your fingertips tingle as soon as the pet name leaves his lips.

“I’m not pretend—”

The sudden, loud clicking of a deadbolt echoes through the room, silencing you. You and Logan stare at each other for a brief moment, startled and confused, before he turns around and pushes on the double doors to no avail.

He slams the full weight of his body against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

“What the fuck,” he growls in between repeated strikes against the doors.

“Logan and I are locked in a room in the basement,” you say as you click on the communication device in your left ear. “The door automatically locked after we came inside. We can’t get it open—”

You’re met with white noise.

“My fucking comm isn’t working.” Panic begins to set in as you yank the device out of your ear to inspect it. There’s a small green light indicating that it is on, but for whatever reason, it isn’t getting signal.

“Scott? Storm? Can anyone hear us?” Logan says as he messes with his own communication device. “Nothing,” he grunts after a moment of silence.

“Professor? Jean? If either of you are listening, now would be a great time to poke around in our brains and let us know.”

Nothing indeed.

“Okay,” Logan says as he backs away from the double doors. “Blast them.”

“Blast them?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “They’re industrial metal doors. They’re like two feet thick. These walls are made out of concrete.” You bang your first against the rock solid wall for emphasis. “What the fuck do you think fire is—”

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

“How about not setting the room we are trapped in on fire? Only one of us has regenerative—”

A loud hissing noise sounds from above, causing you and Logan to both point your flashlights up towards the ceiling. You squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Large vents make up well over fifty percent of the ceiling, releasing what appears to be a fog like substance. It quickly transforms the air above you into one large, milky looking cloud.

“Charles! Storm! Scott – we need help. Quickly, we need help. I don’t know what’s going—”

You continue to shout into the communication device while Logan alternates between punching the door with his fists and throwing the full weight of his body against the metal, but all of your efforts are futile. The doors don’t budge, and you hear nothing but static from the comm.

You frantically glance around the room, looking for another escape route. There’s no other doors, and no windows. You’re completely enclosed by the four concrete walls and the impenetrable metal doors.

“Hold your breath!” Logan shouts as the fog descends upon the two of you, but it’s too late. The sickeningly sweet smelling mist encompasses you, making it impossible to see anything other than the thick silver vapor. It infiltrates your nostrils, causing you to gag. You cough, desperately trying to clear your airway of the substance.

It burns – your throat, your nostrils, your eyes and skin. Anywhere that it comes in contact with you feels like pins and needles.

You’re vaguely aware that Logan is somewhere to your left, asking if you’re okay in-between coughs and gags of his own. You can’t catch your breath well enough to answer him.

His hand clasps around the top of your arm. Your vision goes fuzzy and you collapse into him, light-headed from the profuse coughing.

“I think it’s dissipating,” Logan whispers in a strained voice, still supporting you so that you don’t fall to the floor. You risk cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, and realize that he’s right. There’s still a veil of mist surrounding you, but it’s no longer so opaque that you can’t see even two inches in front of your face.

You take deep breaths, making no effort to step away from him as you attempt to regain control of your breathing. Your lungs feel like they are on fire and your throat feels like you haven’t had any water in days.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice comes out as a croak.

“Can you stand?” he asks you. You nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace.

As soon as he steps away from you to see if the doors are still locked, the momentary relief that you felt when the fog began to dissipate is replaced with renewed terror. The room, which was previously dark except for the light from your flashlights, suddenly glows a deep red color from the ceiling that now emits crimson fluorescence.

You open your mouth to call out for Charles or Jean again, when a throbbing sensation radiates throughout your gut. You clutch your hands over your abdomen, gasping at the sudden and awkward feeling.

Logan turns his attention away from the doors and back to you as soon as he notices how you’re hunched over. You stumble over to the bed that's closest to you, the world blurring around you in shades of red.

“Something is wrong,” you gasp out. You know you're stating the obvious – something has been wrong since the moment that the doors locked behind you.

He's next to you in two long strides, kneeling beside the bed and looking up at you in concern. The ache in your lower belly seems to worsen with his close proximity. Your skin feels feverish, making you want to peel your tactical suit off of your body.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he demands. Other than obvious confusion and fear, he appears physically fine. You piece together that whatever that shit was, it’s effecting you much differently than it is him – undoubtedly due to his healing abilities.

You can't form a coherent sentence – all you can focus on is the way that the discomfort in your abdomen travels down to your groin, making you clench your thighs together. You have the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull him to you, as if having him as close as possible to you is the only solution for every uncomfortable thing happening to you.

“You gotta talk to me, bub. Tell me what’s going on,” he says when you don’t answer him. He puts a hand just above your knee and you have to hold back the whimper that threatens to break through your lips. He notices your pained expression and quickly withdraws his hand from your thigh.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand in yours out of desperation to maintain some level of physical contact with him. “I – I don't know how to explain what’s happening. Just – I just need you to keep touching me. Please. Whatever that fog was, it’s making me feel like…”

You trail off, realizing that you must sound every bit as insane as you feel. You don’t know how to begin articulating what’s happening to you, because it makes no sense. When the silver mist first started to rain down from the ceiling, the last thing on your mind was Logan pinning you to one of these mattresses and railing you until you until you see stars. Now, you think that if he so much as stops holding your hand, you'll fucking die.

A look of clarity washes over Logan’s face – with a hint of something else that you can't quite pinpoint, too.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself.

“I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—”

“What is it?” you implore.

His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs –

“It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

You let his words sink in. It’s not something you’ve ever heard of, but you don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. How could you, with the way that your pussy is throbbing at the mere sound of his voice? Under normal circumstances, you might not read too far into that. But right now? On a mission, locked in a creepy basement, unable to get in contact with your teammates?

“Weren’t able to fight it,” you repeat slowly. “You're saying there’s only one way out of this.”

He doesn’t answer – just looks at you with sympathy. With pity.

“No,” you shake your head. You yank your hand from his grasp and move back across the mattress as the gravity of the situation hits you. To distance yourself from him feels like ripping air out of your own lungs, but the alternative is borderline unthinkable.

“I can’t – won’t ask that of you,” you declare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that laughs at you, as if saying it’s cute that you think you have a choice. The pain and longing grow with each passing second, threatening to consume you from the inside out.

“You’re fine. It would be different if it was both of us. But you shouldn’t have to do this just because you're stuck here with me.”

“Have to? You make it sound like it would be a punishment for me,” he chuckles darkly. He finally rises from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. He stands beside the mattress, looming over you in the maroon lighting.

“Let’s not overcomplicate this, princess,” he murmurs. He grasps your face in his palm and tilts your head to look up at him. His touch is a balm – it feels like running a burn under a cold stream of water.

“I'm gonna take care of you, and then you can go right back to tolerating my existence.” He runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of the singular digit against your flesh.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?”

Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist.

He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink.

As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

You’re past the point of finding it in you to care about consequences. You’re no longer thinking about how you’ll be able to look him in the eye when this is over, or how you’ll pretend like everything is perfectly normal when the two of you are back on the jet with your teammates.

Maybe you can fight this drug, or maybe he’s right and there’s no point in trying. Either way, you’ve decided that you're going to have him before you leave this room.

You drop his hand, bringing yours to the zipper at the neckline of your tactical suit. You slowly tug it downwards, gauging his expression as he watches you expose your chest and stomach.

For once, he’s all out of smart remarks.

A part of you feels a sense of satisfaction and wants to continue taking your time with undressing yourself, just to keep him looking at you like this – but every fiber of your being is screaming at you for more.

You waste no more time with shoving the restrictive Kevlar material down your arms, leaving you in only your bra from the waist up. Logan unfreezes at the sight, crawling onto the bed on his knees. You maneuver yourself so that you’re laying flat against the mattress, pulling him down with you.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth.

His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

Your complaint dies in your throat when he slates his lips over yours.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way that he kisses you. He slips his tongue past your lips, moving his lips with fervency and urgency – like he needs this as badly as you do.

You buck your hips up into him, desperate for any amount of friction. He grinds down against you, his erection evident even through the thick material of both of your tactical suits.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss to unzip your suit the rest of the way down. He peels it down your thighs, only stopping to discard your boots. When you’re left in only your underwear, he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So, what exactly was I doing in your dream to have you saying my name like that, huh?” he asks as he toys with the waistband of your panties.

You roll your eyes, your patience growing thinner as the ache in your belly grows stronger. He can tease you about that all he wants when you’re back in the safety of the mansion, when you’re no longer under the influence of potentially life threatening chemicals and capable of thinking of a proper comeback.

“Shut up and eat me out.”

His smirk only grows, but he doesn’t tease you any further. He tugs your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He lowers himself onto his stomach, still fully dressed. Under less dire circumstances, you would’ve been eager to get him out of his clothes, too – but right now, your highest priority is feeling his mouth on you.

No wet dream could have prepared you for how euphoric it actually feels for his teeth to nip at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, or the way that his tongue draws lazy circles at your hole before his lips lock around your clit.

You writhe against him, chasing the release that you’ve been desperate for since the second the vapor first came in contact with your skin. He’s more than generous, expertly nursing at your swollen bud as he eases a slender finger inside your cunt.

One finger – that’s all it takes to feel your climax building, the coil in your lower belly tightening. You feel your walls pulse around the digit as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even try to hold back your cries and praises of pleasure, letting him know how good he’s making you feel.

When he sits back, his lips and beard glisten with your slick in the red glow that encases you both. You push yourself into a sitting position and reach for the zipper of his suit, antsy to shed his clothing now that your physical discomfort had been quelled – at least for the time being.

He helps you, shrugging out of his vest and tugging his undershirt over his head. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but never shirtless for you. You want to dig your nails into the planes of his chest, and run your tongue along the protruding vein that disappears beyond the waistline of his pants –

You undo his belt buckle and pop open the button of his pants before hastily yanking both his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs free, bobbing inches before your face. You start to adjust your position on the bed – to get on your knees and take him in your mouth – when a low chuckle causes you to pause and look up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, earning a confused pout from you.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows.

“S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.”

You aren’t going to argue with that.

You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices.

“Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

He fucks you similarly to how he kisses you – like this is saving him as much as it is you. It's rough, and fast, and messy – and you dread the moment that it’s over.

No one has ever filled you as completely and perfectly as him. You don’t think anyone else ever will, again.

Each drag of his cock along your walls has you clenching around him, each time his head rams against your cervix you can’t help but cry his name.

He snakes his hand in between you, reaching down to where his body collides with yours. His thumb massages over your sensitive clit.

You rake your nails down his back and he hisses in approval, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess,” he grunts before kissing you again.

You don't have time to overthink the sentiment before your second orgasm is washing over you. Logan cums as soon as he feels your pussy pulsating around him, fucking you until he's spilled every last drop of his warm seed deep inside you. When you're both finished, he stills inside you and rests his sweat-slicked forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

As if on cue, you hear the deadbolt unlock from the other side of the room. A second later, Storm’s voice sounds from your communication device that had fallen to the floor at some point.

“I don't feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside my vagina anymore. So, I’d say yeah, it worked.”

He huffs a laugh, and then pulls out of you with a sigh.

“Logan,” you say, stopping him before he can pull away from you entirely. He stares down at you, waiting for you to continue.

You aren’t even sure what to say. Truthfully, you just weren’t ready for the moment to end and for things to go back to normal between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spit out after a moment of loaded silence. “For… helping me,” you finish lamely.

“Don’t thank me, bub,” he chuckles. “It’s far from the worst thing that's happened to me in this place.”

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

And as soon as you've showered and your head hits the pillow after returning home to the mansion, you sleep for another ten hours. Every time you wake up and think that you're finally well-rested, your body says otherwise and you're asleep again within minutes.

You wish you could say it’s a dreamless sleep, but that would be a lie. You see Logan’s face every time you close your eyes.

But it's different than the last dream you had of him. It isn’t images of his head between your thighs or his fingers slipping in and out of you.

It’s just.. him. His presence. The lingering feeling of his lips on yours, the light flavor of tobacco and menthol.

And the echo of the words he spoke as he teased you with the head of his cock and made you cum around his length.

“Don’t you worry, though. If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I’ll let you.”

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess.”

When you wake, the ache between your thighs for him remains, despite the fact that the effects of the drugs had long since faded.

You know you shouldn’t read too far into words spoken while the two of you were locked in that room. But you can’t help but keep thinking that he wasn’t under the influence of chemical subjugation. Which leaves you questioning if he meant the things he said, or if he was just trying to lighten a scary, impossible situation for both of you.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When you finally gather the courage the knock on his door, the sun has set and everyone has retired to their bedrooms for the evening.

You almost dash back into your own room during the few seconds that it takes him to open his door. He wears sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a surprised expression.

“Hey, bub,” he greets you apprehensively. You don't normally make a habit of stopping by his room for late night chats. “Was starting to worry that you’d fallen into a coma.”

He opens his door wider, motioning with his head for you to come inside.

“Felt like it,” you give a small laugh. “Whatever was in that shit wore me out.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, nervously wringing your hands together.

“You feeling better now?” he asks as he leans against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes trail over the large muscles of his chest and shoulders. The memory of his body caging you to the twin sized mattress in the basement of the bunker flashes through your mind.

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

“All things considered,” you shrug. “I just wanted to check in with you. Has Charles… said anything?”

What you're actually trying to ask is if Charles interrogated him about where the two of you were during the mission, why no one was able to contact either of you, and why you have been so exhausted that you've done nothing but sleep for the last day, but you trust that he knows what you mean.

“He hasn’t said anything, but..” he trails off, eyes darting around the room to avoid your gaze. “It’s Charles. Safe to assume he knows and is just being decent by not saying anything.”

“Right,” you murmur.

If he doesn’t already know, it's only a matter of time before you slip up and imagine the feeling of his lips on yours or the sounds of his moans in the middle of a mission debriefing.

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

“They are,” he assures you with a soft smile. “They’re all receiving medical attention, and most have been reunited with their loved ones.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “No thanks to us, I guess.”

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

He pushes himself off the dresser, walking the few feet to where you perch at the edge of the mattress. He sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He smells of Old Spice deodorant and spearmint toothpaste, and it makes you the room spin around you.

“But everyone’s okay. They’re safe. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. He’s close enough that you can practically feel the heat from his body. You risk looking at his face, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “You’re right. Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in with—”

You start to stand up, when he cups your jaw in his hand and pulls your face to his. He’s hesitant in a way that he wasn’t yesterday – he gives you the opportunity to pull away before he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip, as if asking for permission.

When you don’t give any kind of indication that you want him to stop, he pulls you flush against him and slips his tongue past your lips. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, twining your fingers through his hair.

He takes his time with you. Whereas yesterday’s kisses were filled with urgency and desperation, todays is tender and sensual. Now, you’re allowed the luxury of taking your time.

He lays down against the mattress, pulling you with him. You straddle his stomach, your lips never once breaking contact. His hands grip the globes of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat through your pajama pants.

You grind against the hard planes of his abdomen, earning a throaty growl from him.

He breaks away, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath.

“What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?”

“No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—”

“What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest.

“I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.”

You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

oooops i accidentally wrote another fic where logan overhears something that he wasn't supposed to 😅🫠 did not originally plan for that to happen hahaha

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

[archangeldyke-all]

ANGEEEEEEL DO A LITTLE FUCKER AND ISHA FIC AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🫵🫵🫵

okay okay okay long awaited but let's do it finally ehheehehe

as always with these fics, don't ask me the logistics of how the pregnancy happened. it's yuri magic. have some fun.

men and minors dni

jinx is twenty when she decides to go to college. after a few years of taking care of herself-- through therapy, moving in with you and sevika, isha's good influence, and vi and ekko's support-- jinx finally felt ready to look to her future.

she got into a good school in piltover; full scholarship, because she's a fucking genius.

you don't worry about the workload overwhelming her, though she's decided to enroll in a dual degree program, studying chemistry and engineering at the same time.

you don't worry that her demons will catch up to her; she'll be living with cait and vi, and she'll be within walking distance of her therapist. plus, she's done a lot of good work for herself.

the only thing you worry about is isha.

though the girl is older now, around eight years old and much more used to you and sevika than she was when you first met, isha's favorite person in the entire world is still jinx. and the feeling is mutual. so, while jinx will spend her weeks with cait and vi up top, on weekends she'll come back to zaun to catch up with isha.

it's still a rough adjustment.

isha's just... lonely. you miss the giggles that used to fill your home-- isha entertained endlessly by her older sister's shenanigans. and despite all you and sevika have done to keep her occupied-- buying her new games and pets and books-- you can tell that isha's bored all alone.

"what if we had a baby?" sevika asks one night after you've turned off the lights and cuddled into her arms.

"another cat?" you mumble. sevika laughs.

"i was thinking a human baby, but we could get another cat if you want."

you sit up in bed, reaching out to flick a light on and stare down at your wife. "where the fuck is this coming from!?" you squeal.

sevika shrugs. "isha's lonely! we should give her a little sibling."

"wh-- like our own baby?! like one of us gets pregnant!?"

"well unless isha drags home a stray kid i don't see how else we'll get one." sevika chuckles.

you gawk at her. sevika smiles up at you. "s-sevika, we already have two to five children, depending on the day." you say.

sevika snorts. "ekko, cait and vi are ours only in spirit, love, they won't ever need us in the way jinx and isha do." she says. you pout. sevika snorts. "and jinx is all grown up, now." she reminds you.

tears well up in your eyes. "no she's not." you say, your pout worsening. sevika giggles and swipes your tears away.

"look; i know we said no kids when we started dating. but we said a lot of shit back then. remember when we thought we'd go hiking every saturday? we were crazy." sevika says. you giggle. "shit happened between then and now baby. life happened. deaths and marriage and adoptions and moves-- that kinda shit changes people. you changed me. and... we bought this big ass house for our family. might as well fill it up."

"well fuck, sevika, how many babies are you planning on giving me!?" you ask through a sob of happy tears. sevika laughs.

"as many as you'll let me." she says with a shrug.

you go to the doctor to talk about pregnancy the next week, only to find out that you're already a month into your first trimester.

"wh-- i'm-- but--" you sputter.

"she's already pregnant!?" sevika squeals.

the doctor laughs. "it would seem so. good timing."

sevika bursts into laughter and scoops you out of the doctor's paper covered seat, spinning you around her office and sobbing into your shoulder as you blink in shock.

"what the fuck?" you ask. sevika cackles.

on your drive home, you look over at your wife with a suspicious glare. "did you plan this?"

sevika laughs. "you think i'm that diabolical?"

"no, i just-- you decide you want a baby and boom, i'm magically already pregnant?!"

"i can probably smell it on you or somethin'-- my instincts could sense it. like how i can smell when you're ovulating."

you giggle. "that's probably how you knocked me up in the first place."

sevika grins. "fuck yeah it is. i did the math. i think it was the weekend we sent isha up to spend with the girls."

at the mention of your girls it hits you. you're about to have a baby. another one. your own-- one that you know from the first shit it takes.

you burst into tears, and sevika laughs. "there you go, i was waiting for that to happen."

"we're having a baby." you cry, scrambling to grab the hand she reaches across the console. "oh, janna, sev-- i don't know how to change diapers! all our other kids came to us potty trained!"

"i'll change all the diapers in the world, for you, love." sevika promises, kissing your knuckles. you laugh.

"you're such a liar."

isha's one smart little shit. you and sevika decide not to tell her until the second trimester, when it's less likely that you'll miscarry.

she figures it out within a week of you and sevika getting the news.

it could be the way sevika keeps touching your stomach, or the giddy kisses the pair of you keep exchanging when you think isha's not looking-- but something tips her off.

she sits you and sevika down one evening with a frown and her arms folded in front of her chest.

is there a baby in your belly? she signs. you sputter. sevika gasps. isha's suspicious glare melts into an excited smile. is there!? she asks with a gasp.

you burst into laughter and sevika shrugs. "we thought you might wanna be a big sister." isha grins, tears welling up in her eyes as she launches herself at you and sevika, laughing and crying.

i do. isha signs. i'm gonna be the best big sister ever. don't tell jinx. or violet.

you spend your pregnancy being waited on hand and foot by all your girls. vi, cait, and jinx all come to visit once or twice a week-- all three of them enchanted with your swollen stomach and always bringing baby supplies in tow.

isha makes a count-down to your due-date, bedazzles it and hangs it on the fridge so she can keep perfect track of how much longer she has to wait before meeting the baby.

isha's also started to call the baby her baby.

how many more doctors visits do you have before you have my baby? isha signs to you one afternoon as you wait in your doctor's office. you burst into laughter.

"your baby, huh?"

isha nods. i'm her sister! she signs, before gently reaching out and rubbing your stomach.

"what makes you think it's a girl?"

isha shrugs. most of your other babies are girls.

you cackle.

isha must be psychic, because your little girl comes into the world kicking and screaming in the middle of a family potluck.

it's horrible. violet passes out. surprisingly, ekko is the most helpful, giving everyone instructions and calling an ambulance for you while you wail on the living room floor.

isha's watching with a disgusted fascination the entire time, her lips curled in horror and shock, her eyes big and sparkling as she witnesses the miracle of birth.

powder and cait help keep you propped up-- both of them toweling up all your... fluids... while sevika holds your hand and kisses your head.

one baby, a ruined rug, and an ambulance ride to the hospital later, and your family finally gets to see you in better condition, and they get to meet your little girl under better circumstances.

"aweee." your four grown kids coo as they shove into the hospital room.

"hey, no shoving around the baby!" sevika whisper scolds.

isha pushes her way through all her older siblings, crawling up in sevika's lap to look down at her little sister.

she gasps in wonder. she looks like big mama. isha signs.

cait chuckles. "she does."

"what a little fucker, comin' out lookin' like the parent that did nothin..." vi teases. sevika scoffs and you giggle in agreement.

"she really is a little fucker. ruined our dinner." jinx huffs. "i was looking forward to that potroast, y'know."

isha giggles, pinching her fingers together, then flipping off the baby and pointing at her. little fucker.

you all burst into laughter. little fucker's silver eyes pop open, and she bursts into tears.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb

[subtlyeuphoric]

So, I know this is about forest horror and not video game horror, but I was playing FOREWARNED with my friends and had a very weird 'just let it follow you' moment.

FOREWARNED is a horror co-op game where you're graverobbers going into Egyptian tombs and are rightfully being hunted down by the spirits within who are pissed that you're grave robbing. Every tomb is protected by a random spirit that will hunt you after a certain point. Your game objective is to find a bunch of archeological artifacts and then treasure if you're brave enough. The spirits all have different things they do in order to try and find and then kill you.

We can all recognize this game's premise and go into it to be scared because I can be jump scared by a properly timed breeze.

What is very important to this is that it has an in game communication system. If you're killed, you can't talk to anyone any more, but you can hear things. Talking after a certain point can help the game spirit find you and kill you. If you die, you can come back as a mummy and either kill your other players or try and point them in the right direction.

So, this is about my third game and we're in a relatively big tomb and I am still so insanely unsure about how this game works. I get separated from my friends and can't hear them any more. I am lost and just want to get out of the tomb and back to the jeep. I keep asking my friends where to go with absolutely no response. I turn a corner and then I see one of them. Relieved, she starts to follow me and I feel so much better. I try to ask her how to get the fuck out of here, but she says nothing.

That makes me worried, but I think I'm being a newbie and should just shut up and so I stop saying anything. Instead, I sort of juke left and right to indicate where I want to go and what I'm doing.

Every now and again, a mummy runs up to me and I freak out and throw torches at it and run in the opposite direction. Eventually, I find scaffolding up. My friend refuses to come up, but the mummies come dashing after me and I run up terrified. The game ends.

Finally, I can hear my friends again. The spirit took on the form of one of the players and would follow you around until you spoke and then it murdered you. Apparently, my voice was glitched the entire game, so my friends couldn't hear me and were killed instantly by the spirit, so they came back as mummies to warn me. I just led this creature around asking where I should go and it didn't kill me because it could not hear me. However, when it was with me it was such a comfort.

What, the forest-dwelling entities with imperfect human mimicry who insinuate themselves into groups of hikers? Yeah, we had one of those. Clocked it immediately, of course. Honestly it kind of fell in that so-inept-it's-kind-of-charming range. We just played along until it'd had it's fill of marshmallows and shambled back into the treeline. We might have been violating some kind of killjoy wildlife contact best practices but what the hell, can't plan around every little thing. Why, what happened to you guys

[emmyrosee]

head empty, only rin loving kisses and being waaaaaaay to proud (shy) to ask for them.

he would love nothing more than to be able to work up the courage to ask you to kiss him, he’s touch starved and needs constant attention, but he’d rather eat rat poison than ever confess it to you. you have the effect on him, you’ve torn down his walls and shown him all the praise and affection he is worth giving, and you’ve turned him into a sucker for kisses.

which is wonderful, since you’re so keen on giving them to him.

terrible when all he wants is a kiss and you don’t notice it.

he’s pacing back and forth in the next room, desperate, craving, needing a kiss or two on his forehead and one on his lips, in a line like you usually do. routine, is how he’d describe it, but deep down, he’ll take anything he can get. his big hands are carding through his hair, and god, he’s thrilled no one is able to see him like this.

“what’re you doing, baby?”

fuck.

except you.

he nearly leaps out of his skin as you make your way to him, and when he whips his head to face you, your brows a furrowed in concern and your arms are crossed over your chest. “you vanished,” you explain. “missed my snuggle buddy.”

“eugh,” he grumbles. “we’ve talked about the nicknames, haven’t we?” he scolds, and you merely chuckle.

“we have, i just choose to not listen to you.”

“and that’s exactly why you’re a pain in the neck.”

then, you shrug, “so im a pain, meanwhile you’re stuck in here waiting for me to come give you a kiss because you can’t ask for it?”

fuck.

he scoffs, but it’s shaky and unconvincing, “yeah right. as if id ever need something as juvenile as a kiss to lure me back. i just needed to stretch is all.”

“yeah, i’ll bet,” you snicker. then you spin on your heel, and rin feels his heart sink, “well, ill be on the couch. waiting for you.”

no, no, no, his chance is walking away from him, literally, disappearing down the hall and leaving him a yearning mess, pining for your affection that he’s just not sure how to ask for.

his head drops in disappointment, fists balling slightly, and he pouts softly like a child as he wracks his mind to try and work up the courage to go. he’s pathetic, can’t even ask for affection from his own partner, someone he sleeps next to at night and lets smear a green, cold face mask on him, someone he’s so in love with they turn him into a damn petulant child at the lack of attention, and-

“hey,” you whisper. he looks at you through his lashes, embarrassed.

you smile and toss your arms around his neck, rising up slightly to press a kiss to the apple of his cheek. his eyes blow open. then, you kiss his nose gently. his lips twitch. you plant your lips on the ticklish spot on his neck, and he jerks slightly. you giggle.

“oh, you’re so cute i can’t stand it,” you purr, kissing the other side of his cheek. “i just love loving you.” you press a kiss to his chin, and by now he’s smiling shyly, cheeks blazed in red from embarrassment and excitement for the attention he’s finally receiving. “i could just eat you up, you’re so cute.” you kiss the corner of his eye, which flutters shut in ease. “i can’t not kiss you, it’s against the law.”

finally, stiffly, his arms wrap around your waist, “who would you be to break the law?”

“i would never,” you hum, moving your hands to gently cup his cheeks, forcing him to meet your gaze. his eyes practically have little hearts in them, and a wobbly smirk is on his lips. “you want some more?”

his eyes widen again. you shush him softly, thumbs stroking over the swells of his cheeks, “just nod or shake your head, my lovey boy.”

against his own determination of ‘not needing’ your attention, he finds himself nodding in your hands, butterflies in his stomach going crazy as you smile back and continue to press kisses over his face, voice dripping with honey with every adoring coo you offer him.

[diaryofawhoretbh]

it's too late. | thanos (choi su-bong)

| in which a pregnant girl encounters her ex-boyfriend in a game of survival, for a shot to win some money to pay off their debts.

wc: 1.1k

warnings: none really... just a lot of angst!

NOT proof-read!!

"hey señorita... y/n!"

oh don't tell me that's who i think it is...

i turned around slowly, my heart hammering in my chest. it was like time had frozen for a moment. the moment i had feared, the moment i never expected. there he was.

choi su-bong.

my high-school sweetheart. the boy who once promised me everything. the boy who left when i needed him the most. the boy who broke my heart and disappeared without a trace.

i could hardly breathe as i met his eyes. those same eyes i had fallen in love with at sixteen. the purple hair that was styled but messier than i remembered. the tattoos that covered his hands and his fingers; each one a reminder of who he'd become. the coloured nails, the silver rings that flashed with every movement. that same damn smile; the one that made my heart race, now felt like a dagger lodged in my chest.

"su-bong..." i said, my voice barely above a whisper. the words so heavy with unspoken moments of pain and longing. my hand moved instinctively to rest on my stomach, the one thing that had grown in his absence. but i didn't expect him to notice. why would he? not after everything.

he froze for a moment, as if he didn't know what to do with me. his eyes flickered to my stomach, then quickly shifted away, the confusion creeping into his expression. he looked...lost. like he was seeing me, but not really understanding. i could see the change in him; the same boy i loved at sixteen, but somehow... different. colder.

"you look different," he said slowly, taking a step forward, his voice carrying a touch of hesitation. his eyes searched mine, like he was trying to find the girl he once knew in the woman standing before him. but he didn't get the chance.

"yeah," i replied flatly, trying to keep my composure, my voice colder than i intended. "a lot has changed su-bong."

i wanted him to know how much he had missed, how much he had left. i wanted him to feel the weight of his absence, the pain of being alone when i needed him the most. but i didn't want to show him any weakness. not now. not after everything.

he shifted uncomfortably, like my coldness was making him second-guess himself.

"look i know it's been a while, but we need to talk."

we need to talk? what the fuck. my mind screamed. we've already had this conversation, haven't we? but the words caught in my throat. i couldn't bring myself to say it. not yet. the truth, the pain, it was all so close to the surface, and if i let it out now, it would swallow me whole.

"what do you want, su-bong?" i asked, my voice tight, trying to keep the shaking at bay. "why are you even here?"

his face darkened, the usual cocky swagger replaced by something more... raw. something real. "debt," he said, the word coming out low, reluctant. "i invested everything into crypto. lost it all. i’m here because of my mistakes."

i nodded slowly, the reality of his words sinking in like ice water. "yeah, i know," i muttered bitterly. "i’ve been paying for it too, haven’t i?"

he looked away for a second, but i could see the shame in his eyes. the guilt. it didn’t matter, though. it never mattered before, so why should it matter now?

but then, as if the silence between us wasn’t enough, his eyes flicked down to my stomach. a quick glance, but it was enough. his face went pale, his breath catching in his throat. the shock was instant.

"wait…" he whispered, stepping closer. his voice cracked slightly. "are you-"

i didn’t let him finish. i couldn’t. i felt it welling up inside me—everything i had kept hidden for months. the hurt, the anger, the grief. i pressed my hand to my stomach again, my heart racing as i forced the words out.

"i’m pregnant," i said, my voice barely a whisper, but it felt like it echoed between us. "and it’s yours."

his face went blank. completely blank. like he couldn’t process it. like the words hadn’t even reached him yet. i saw his mouth open, but no sound came out.

i stepped back, keeping my distance, my chest tight. "you weren’t there, su-bong. not when i needed you. not when we needed you."

his expression crumpled, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "i didn’t know," he said hoarsely. "i didn’t know, y/n. i swear."

"you should’ve known," i shot back, my voice cracking despite my efforts to stay composed. "you should’ve been here. but you weren’t. you walked away when i needed you the most."

he took a step closer, but i held up my hand to stop him. "no. don’t come near me."

"i messed up," he said, his voice rough, guilt and regret flooding his words. "i was stupid. i didn’t mean for any of this to happen. i thought… i thought i could fix it. i was trying to make something of myself, but i messed everything up. i messed us up."

"us?" i scoffed, shaking my head. "there was no 'us,' su-bong. there was only you and your damn dreams. your rap career. your crypto, your debts, your selfishness. there was never any 'us' when i needed you. i was alone, and now you think you can just walk back in like nothing happened?"

i felt my hands shaking, my breath coming faster as the anger bubbled up. i wanted to scream. i wanted to cry. but all i could do was stand there, staring at the boy who had left me. the boy who would never understand the weight of what he had done.

"i should’ve been there," he muttered, the words barely a whisper. "but i wasn’t. i’m sorry, y/n."

the words meant nothing anymore. they were hollow. meaningless. he was sorry, but sorry wouldn’t change anything.

"yeah," i said, my voice trembling now. "you should’ve. but you weren’t. and it’s too late."

i took a shaky breath, pushing the tears back. i couldn’t break down in front of him. not now. not after everything.

"you can’t fix this, su-bong," i whispered, the finality in my voice cutting through the space between us. "you can’t fix what’s already broken."

he stood there, staring at me like he didn’t know what to do with himself, with us. i turned away, my heart pounding in my chest. my body felt heavy with the truth i had finally told him.

"i’m done," i said softly, my voice breaking. "you should leave. just go."

without another word, i walked away, leaving him behind.

[soobnny]

we'll never have sex — changbin x reader ; established relationship & hurt/comfort (1.2k words)

there is nothing more beautiful than the promise of love even if you cannot guarantee or give that certain level of intimacy just yet

for my girls with a complicated relationship w sex & yes this is based off of leith ross’ song

Facetimes with Changbin always last longer than they should. 

Had it been anyone else, the call would’ve dropped more than an hour ago. You’d have been found guilty for finding any excuse to warrant you some silence–the slightest tinge of awkwardness, the moment conversation runs out, faking plans.

Never with Changbin.

The static of phone calls stretch on, neither of you having moved much. You can’t remember how long it’d been since either of you said something, but you’ve never minded. The quiet that came with your boyfriend had always felt comfortable. Almost safe.

In your periphery, just at the top most right of your screen, you can see him sprawled across his bed, signature hoodie to match the boyfriend look, and fingers lazily scrolling through his phone. 

“Still awake, baby?” His voice breaks the silence, teasing almost, but still gentle. 

“Mhm.” You hum, shifting in your position a little. “But ‘m a little sleepy.”

“You should go to bed.”

“No.” Changbin chuckles at your refusal, deep and raspy through the phone. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, distinguishably fond even with the poor quality of the video.

For a second, you allow yourself to just watch the boy–his glazed eyes, the softness in his features accentuated by the low light of his room, the warmth of his smile. 

Almost safe. Almost reassuring. 

You wonder if it’s all a facade, wonder when he’d finally break, wonder when he’d leave you because you refuse to let him do anything beyond a kiss. Maybe no amount of love, even from the right person like Changbin, will ever be enough to change that.

You try to scold yourself. Self-destructing thoughts are too familiar, they reverberate in your head like you’d been thinking about it for a while, like they’d been practiced and practiced until permanently tattooed. 

The tears come without warning, mid-scolding. Big and heavy and warm. They pool at the edges of your version, and it makes you feel pathetic that you hurry to press the sleeve of your hoodie against your face. 

Changbin notices immediately.

“Hey.” his voice sharpens, the playful edge he’d been sporting earlier gone in a split second. “(Name)? Baby, hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, and oh god, he’s going to leave you. He’s going to leave you because you’re such a crybaby, and anyone with a normal fucking mind wouldn’t do this to him. Anyone under normal—kinder—circumstances wouldn’t think like this. 

“Baby.” He tries again, softer this time. “Talk to me.” 

Your throat tightens around something akin to a lump. You try to swallow it down. 

“Why’re you crying? What’s wrong?” 

There’s a long pause before you finally speak.

“What if I… what if…” You start, voice barely above a whisper. You don’t know how to continue, words disjointed and dismembered. “If I said you could never touch me, would you still want to be with me?”

Changbin pauses for a fraction of a second, eyebrows drawn together in genuine confusion. But you go on, inundating him with the fears that have spent your entire life trying to catch up with you.

“I can’t give you what you want. It’s what you want, isn’t it? Would you still stay with me even if I told you that I never want to have sex?”

The boy’s expression softens immediately. He can hear his own heart break at how fragile you sound, at how shattering it is to look at your tear-streaked face through a screen, at the things that could’ve transpired for you to think that he’d ever leave you because of that, just because of something so menial to him in a relationship.

“Of course I’ll stay.” He says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “That doesn’t change anything.”

His words are meant to be comforting, the small but sure smile on his lips should’ve been enough to return your peace, but instead, the tears well up again. Heavier this time. 

“Wait. Wait, wait—hold on.” His face suddenly disappears off the screen as he fumbles with his phone. He sounds rushed. “I’m… I can’t just look at you cry and not do anything about it.”

Then the call ends.

It isn’t until fifteen minutes later when a sudden knock on your door shakes you from your self-pity do you see him again. And he’s standing there, slightly out of breath, the same hoodie you’d seen earlier half-zipped with his hair tousled from the cold wind outside. 

“Binnie.” Your voice cracks. “What are you doing here?”

Changbin doesn’t say anything at first, just allows himself to look at you—eyes tracing over the tear stains on your cheeks, and the way you’re hugging yourself with the sleeves of one of his jackets. 

Then, without a word, he slips a hand beneath your jaw, tilting your face to look you in the eyes. His palms on your skin feel warm, calloused but gentle as he cradles you in his hands. “I think…” He pauses. 

A heartbeat passes.

“I think you look lovely.” He murmurs, tone low and gentle, abating the tempestuous anxieties swelling in the pit of your stomach. “And I love you. Not because of what you think I’m expecting from you, but because I love you. The entirety of you.”

You press your face into the crook of his neck as an ugly sob escapes your throat. The tears spill over again, faster, and you feel so ridiculous for crying even more in front of him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He pulls back, leaning in to press a kiss to your wet cheeks. His voice is firm, but not unkind. Never unkind. And his eyes held no hesitation, no flicker of doubt in the way he’s looking at you right now. “Did I say anything to make you feel this way?”

Changbin tries to hide how he feels about his question, like he could never imagine being the reason why you’re sobbing like this.

“No, oh my god. Binnie, no. It’s not you.” 

“Okay, it’s not me.” His voice is still kind, relieved. “I’m never expecting anything from you, okay?”

And just as gentle as he’s holding you, he kisses you. Nothing desperate, nothing hurried even. Just slow and lingering, like he’s savoring the moment for exactly what it is. He isn’t kissing you to take you to bed, not to ask for anything more, not even to change your mind.

Changbin kisses you just to kiss you. 

Just to hopefully show you that he means everything he said to you. 

“I’ll take care of you.” His fingers thread through your hair. “I love you.”

Quietly, tiredly, you start to show a small smile. “Thank you.”

Loving you is so easy for Changbin. Like second nature. Like falling in love with your laughter, and the little parts of you that make up your sum. And you’re aware that it’s going to take time to heal yourself—that it won’t be so easy all the time, that there will be days like these again, but you also know enough that he is genuine and that he loves you with no expectations even if it’s hard to believe sometimes.

Seo Changbin loves you with every bit of conscience he was born with. He loves you simply. 

You stay like this for a while. Safe. Reassuring. Until you feel the sickness less and less.

[foolishangelic]

✸ you need rafes help when you can´t fall asleep.

It was late at night, and you couldn´t sleep whatsoever. You kept tossing and turning all night, trying to find a comfortable position, but it was useless. Every side of your pillow was warm, so was your whole bed.

You finally gave up, and decided to call your boyfriend, rafe. Maybe he could find some way to 'help' you fall asleep. You grabed your phone, clicked on his contact and called him. "Hello?" his silent voice called out "Hey, wanna come over?" you asked, getting straight to the point.

He chuckled "Yeah. uhh, i´ll be there soon." you let out a sigh of relief as he hung up the call.

A few minutes later you heard your window opening, you stood up and watched him walk inside, and shut it behind him with a small thud "You should really lock your windows at night," he said with a sigh "don´t want anyone to come in or anyth─" before he could finish his sentence, you had crashed your lips into his.

He kissed you back hungrily, his tongue brushing past your bottom lip, exploring your mouth. He let out a soft hum and pulled away for a brief moment "You´re needy." he chuckled breathlessly, you smiled, then he leaned in and captured your lips together again.

His lips pulled away, trailing down your neck. His breath hot against your skin, as he kissed and nipped below your pulse point. His hands roamed over your body, as if he was trying to map out every inch of you.

He began backing you towards your bed, carefully laying you down, as he moved to crawl ontop of you, hovering over you. His hand reached over and pulled down your shorts, he then moved his hands inside your panties. His finger sliding over your dripping wet folds.

You threw your head back in pleasure and let out a soft moan "You´re soaked." he smirked "All this just from me kissing you, huh?" his fingers continued working over your folds and your clit.

He slides his index finger inside of you, pumping slowly in and out of ,his pace slow and torturous. He curled his finger, causing you to whine. "Please." you mumbled, your voice almost a whimper. He smirked, seeming to enjoy your desperate reaction as he continued to move his finger slowly inside you. "Please what?" he said with a smirk, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He took your panties off and removed his finger from inside of you. He took his shirt off, disgarding it somewhere across the room. His bare chest had you drooling, the way his biceps flexed, and how beautiful his abs are. He looked like a greek god.

Then he pulled his sweatpants, and boxers down. His hard cock jutting out of his boxers, dripping with precum.

He smirked at the way your lips parted slightly at the sight "Ready for me?" you nodded frantically, excited for him to fuck you "Nu- uh.. use your words." he said as he hovered above you. His tip poking against your clit, causing a gasp to slip past your lips.

"I´m ready." you said breathlessly. He lined his cock to your entrance, then met your gaze, holding eye contact with you as his cock buried deep inside you, streching you out. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your mouth open in an O shape, as he began setting a sweet and slow pace.

The feeling of his cock fucking you slowly is the best thing you could ever imagine, and it felt so so good. He loved being buried deep inside you, thrusting in and out, as he heard your pretty moans.

Your nails digged into the skin of his back, dragging down leaving pretty red marks on him. His speed increased, and your moans got louder and louder, as he hit the sweet spot that made you feel dizzy in pleasure.

"Fuucckk.." he grunted, as one hand roamed over your body, and the other held on to your hip to keep you in place "You´re so tight." he muttered against your neck. His thrusts getting more sloppy and messy. You feel yourself clench around him.

Your stomach starts twisting up in knots, as your organsm gets closer and closer. You hold onto to rafes neck, trying to find something to anchor yourself as the pleasure took over "Rafe.." you said between pants "I´m- i´m gonna cum."

That made his thrusts speed up, and become more urgent "Gonna have my girl cum all over my cock." he looks down to where his cock is thrusting in and out of you with ease.

"oh my godd," you moaned as your organsm swept over you, your back arching against him, as your juices covered his cock, and you clenched around him, your eyes shutting in bliss, the euphoric feeling almost unbearable. His release slowly creeping up on him aswell.

He felt himself cum inside you, both of your juices now running down his cock, as he continued riding out his release with a long groan. He laid ontop of you, his face buried in your neck as you both breathed heavily.

"You´re so good.. so so good." he muttered against your skin. Your hand moved up and down his back in a nice soothing manner, as you both laid together, skin to skin.

A few minutes later, you felt his cock twitch inside of you, he then used his arms to hold himself up again. "You know your safe word, yeah?" he said, brushing a strand a hair away from your face "We´re not done?" you asked.

He didn´t answer. Instead he started thrusting into you once again.

[sonarspace]

❝ BOYS SUCK AND GIRLS I’VE NEVER TRIED… ❞

⭑ synopsis. after finding out your boyfriend cheated, revenge felt sweeter in shoko’s hands—and on her tongue .ᐟ

content. shoko x fem!reader. nsfw.

shoko's apartment was dim, lit only by the soft golden glow of the floor lamp in the corner and the muted flicker of the city lights seeping through half-closed blinds. the low hum of music vibrated through the walls, something sultry and slow, matching the quiet tension hanging thick in the air.

you hadn't planned to come here tonight. not after the fight, not after finding out about him-the betrayal still fresh and burning under your skin like an open wound. but here you were, gripping a half-empty glass of wine, the bitter liquid doing little to ease the ache gnawing at your chest.

shoko leaned against the counter, swirling her own glass lazily between her fingers. the rim clinked softly as she lifted it to her lips, eyes never leaving you. dark and unreadable, they studied every inch of you with a quiet intensity that made your skin prickle.

"you really came here to mope about him?" her voice was low and flat but carried a sharp edge. she tilted her head, letting her hair fall over one shoulder, casual but calculating.

you exhaled slowly, gripping the stem of your glass tighter. "no. i came here because i didn't want to be alone."

a flicker of something passed behind her eyes, gone before you could name it. "sure. that's all it is."

you didn't answer. couldn't.

because it wasn't just that.

it was the way your body seemed to gravitate toward her despite every rational thought. the way you remembered fleeting touches and lingering glances, how her eyes sometimes hovered on your mouth for a second too long. how maybe you had thought about this before tonight.

and maybe she knew.

shoko pushed off the counter slowly, her glass abandoned. the soft pad of her heels against the wood floor filled the quiet as she crossed the room. each step was confident and unhurried until she stood in front of you, looking down with that same unreadable expression

"forget him," she said softly. the words weren't soft, though. they were firm. final.

you swallowed hard. "and how am i supposed to do that?"

her hand moved, slow and steady, fingers curling around your chin. the cool press of her thumb traced your bottom lip, dragging softly before tilting your face up to hers.

"let me show you."

her lips met yours before you could think to breathe, a slow, sinking kiss that made your heart stutter in your chest. it wasn't soft. it wasn't sweet. it was deep and consuming, like smoke curling around your throat, making you dizzy.

shoko kissed you like she smoked-slow, indulgent, like every second was meant to burn.

her hands slid up, dragging beneath the hem of your shirt, cold fingers skating along hot skin. a shiver rippled through you, and she smiled against your mouth, nails scraping lightly down your sides.

"you don't need him," she murmured into the kiss, her breath hot on your lips. "not when you have me."

you didn't realize she'd backed you into the couch until the backs of your knees hit the cushions, sending you tumbling down. she followed effortlessly, knees bracketing your thighs as she leaned over you, eyes dark and glinting.

her fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, glancing up as if asking permission-not that she needed it.

"off."

you obeyed, fumbling to pull the fabric over your head, breath catching in your throat. her eyes raked over you, slow and unashamed, drinking in every inch of bare skin with quiet hunger.

"so fucking pretty," she breathed, leaning down to press her lips along your throat, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. her mouth moved lower, dragging down the slope of your collarbone, leaving warmth in its wake.

her hands roamed with purpose-firm palms smoothing over your stomach, thumbs brushing the underswell of your breasts before her mouth followed, tongue flicking against your skin, teasing.

you whimpered, arching into her, but she only chuckled, biting softly at your ribs.

"impatient."

her fingers slid lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, dragging them down at a maddeningly slow pace. cool air kissed your skin, making you shiver, and she hummed approvingly at the sight of you laid out beneath her.

"let me help you."

and then her mouth was on you.

the first slow swipe of her tongue against your core made your hips jolt, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat. she groaned lowly, the sound vibrating against you like she was drunk on the taste of you.

her grip on your thighs tightened, nails biting into flesh as she licked again, slower this time, savoring every reaction.

"so wet for me already," she purred, voice thick with want. "was he ever able to get you like this?"

you couldn't answer. not when her tongue circled your clit, slow and precise before she sucked, pulling a broken moan from your lips.

she was relentless. her mouth worked you over with maddening precision, switching between slow drags and sharp flicks, drawing sounds from you you didn't know you could make.

when two fingers slipped into you, curling just right, your back arched off the couch, a strangled cry escaping.

"that's it," she whispered, lips brushing your thigh.

"let me hear you."

her fingers thrust deep and steady, filling you perfectly as her mouth stayed on your clit, tongue flicking and sucking, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

you were unraveling, every nerve raw and burning, the coil in your stomach wound impossibly tight.

"sh-shoko, i-"

"cum for me." her voice was dark, commanding.

"now."

and you did.

your body snapped tight, orgasm tearing through you so hard it left you gasping, legs shaking as she kept going, dragging it out until you were whimpering and pulling at her hair.

she finally pulled back, lips glistening, smirking like she owned you.

"feel better?"

you could only nod, chest rising and falling, skin flushed and tingling. 

"good." she leaned in, lips ghosting over yours, warm and teasing. "because i'm not finished."

her mouth was on you again before you could think, and suddenly, the thought of him didn't matter anymore.

an. tried to post this earlier but it got flagged 😔

[bluem1lls]

hii!! can u write a se-mi x female guard reader and theyre already lovers even before the game started. when reader realized that se mi is in the game, she secretly protected her. when the reader revealed herself to se mi in the bthroom they kinda argued,,

✧₊⁺ i'm mr. loverman (and i miss my lover)

se-mi x fem!reader

✦ synopsis: you're so in love with your friend with benefits that you'll risk your life to keep her safe, even if it's all to let her go in the end.

content: angst, guard! reader x player! se-mi

authors note: hi!!! tysm for your request, i hope u like it!

⋆｡°✩ her fingers feel so good inside that, combined with her lust-filled face that roams your features, you think you can cry from the sight alone.

"yes, yes, yes, just like that" your head hits the wall with a choked moan once she allows you to finish.

as you're coming down from your haze, she kisses you.

her kisses so rough, that you're used to being out of breath afterwards.

she lays you in bed, gently getting on top.

"you're my pretty girl.. and i'll miss. you. so. much" she says, kissing you after every word.

please, make it never ending.

"why can't i go with you?" you pouted as she shook her head no.

"i need to take this trip by myself. i told you.. i need to solve a few issues before.. we get more serious" she says as she hears your sigh. "i want that baby, i really do."

you nod, a bit hesitant, resting your head on her chest. you can feel heart beating, which pulls a smile from your lips.

"we can have a morning quickie, as a goodbye"

she hums as she kisses your forehead in agreement.

"mmm.. such a nice way to say goodbye." she replies as you chuckle. "but i still need one more round, just.. to make sure i'm leaving you all satisfied"

you smirk, lifting your head as your eyes find eachother. your lips meet hers once again.

"make me" she grins, quickly getting on top, covering the naked bodies with the white sheets.

⋆｡°✩ you place the mask over your face, following 015 to the 'red lights, green lights' room. stepping in, you remove the mask and drop the case on the floor, putting the weapon together.

practicing the aiming, you check the new players. you would judge them but, weren't you just one stupid more?

as you got ready for the game, the doll turned around, letting you hear the little song you knew all too well.

everyone started running, slowing the pace as it screamed red light.

you found an already familiar face guiding the newbies, oh? well he's..huh. player 456. that's actually cool.

you scanned the room as the game kept going, finding a face you had imprinted in your brain.

huh, she's pretty.

she has..

pretty brown eyes, short brown hair, piercings.

huh.

your eyes shut closed, trying to supress the angry scream.

the girl looked just like se-mi!

no wait.

it was fucking se-mi.

"fuck."

pulling your hair, you tried to focus during the game, you can't lose it now.

you tried to keep your shots far away from her, trying to not make her flinch or anything that made her move.

as she got to the finish line, a sigh of relief ran through your body.

you couldn't face her now though, that'd be reckless.

⋆｡°✩ as the night came, you stirred in bed. shivers running through your body as you kept thinking about her.

you slowly got dressed, walking where the players went through to go to the bathroom, you nudge your partner to go.

i mean, you weren't a big thing here, but they respected you as a triangle, at least the newbies (circles).

so as he left, you stood there, checking on her through the small window.

you located her on the bed, asleep. she was all alone and you almost ran in there to sleep with her, but you couldn't.

pressing your lips together, you sighed, hoping everything could end soon.

⋆｡°✩ a new day, the end of a new game. you prayed that she made it, as you couldn't be there present for it.

you stood on the bathroom door, guarding, as you kept thinking.

how could you ask them without being suspicious?

maybe grab a circle and ask, then kill him.

or um.. maybe go down to the bathroom door? like last night and look for her?

no, maybe you could-

no need, because as you kept thinking of ways to find out if she was alive after 'six-legged pentathlon' while taking custody, she stood there in front of you.

"can i go orrr.. you'll shoot me?" she smirked, eyeing me up and down.

you swore, if she kept being a brat, you'll throw the mask and kiss her. a few ways to makeout and have a quickie came to your mind.

you nod at her, your gun pointing to the door as she enters, leaving your sight.

at least the brat was alive. thank god.

⋆｡°✩ as you kept with your nightly ritual, you found yourself in the little hallway where the players walked for the bathroom.

you could see her chuckling, she was sitting down with a few guys, manspreading as always.

your eyes roamed her body, and then her face. she was so attractive.

you wouldn't judge any of the girls here if they fell for her.

judge doesn't mean you wouldn't shoot them though.

⋆｡°✩ a new day, a new game.

mingle.

as you stood there, your eyesight found her. she was scanning the room, walking with the same group you saw her yesterday.

moving aside with gun in hand, you stared as her brown eyes started to show a hint of fear as the platform begin spinning.

she does the first round, the second one.

but on third one, something feels weird as you see her talking with this guy, a frown on her face.

your heart shatters as you see her three partners run to a room without her.

fuck no. she's not gonna die here.

you stare side to side, as the guards are busy, keeping their focus on otherways.

good.

you get close, poking her with the gun as she turns around, surprise all over her face. you could see that she'd given up. that broke your heart even more.

"196 and 133 are missing one. run" you mumble, but she can still hear you.

she stays there frozen as you poke her again. she seems to react this time as she runs with them into a room, although she keeps turning back to stare, trying to find out more about you.

you go back to your position. once mingle ends, you let out a breathing that you didn't even knew you were holding.

⋆｡°✩ you can't sleep that night, knowing she's there, probably staring at the ceiling thinking about what happened today, just like you.

you miss her so much you feel like you're about to leave everything to go and help her.

because you would. you'd drop everything for her.

⋆｡°✩ light's out was next. you knew that.

you can never be too careful, right?

as you run downstairs, placing the mask on your face, you find another guard with the triangle instead of circle, like you're used to.

fuck.

"039, what are you-" you cut him abruptly, choking him with your arm.

once his body goes limp, you hide it behind the door.

you start looking for her, she's not in her bed.

a bad feeling running through your veins.

fuck it. it's worth it for her.

as you hide your gun, you enter the common room. the light's are flashing, making it worse to locate her. everyone is in such a rush, they don't even see you. if they did, they're too busy being stabbed to death.

where is she?? WHERE the fuck is she????

you look near her bed, she's not there. you stare behind, the sides. she's. not. there.

fuckk.

you find her friend...min su? on top of a bed, quickly, you run to him. once you're close enough, you could hear a whimper.

no. please. not her.

"se-mi?" you scream with fear, voice almost trembling. "se-mi!?"

your eyes find her cornered against the wall. she already has a wound close to her neck.

what's it gonna be? your life of her's?

there's no doubt.

you aim and shoot. his body falls on top of her as she gasps. her gaze finds yours.

she throws his body to the ground, running to your side.

"who the fuck are you?" she tries to pull the mask as you stop her, holding her wrist.

"not here. bathroom"

she follows you to the bathroom, her body shivers.

"are you cold?"

"no. just.. had a very close death experience" she replies coldly.

there's nothing left to say other than pressing your lips while nodding.

once you get there, you step in first, checking to see if it's empty. you sign her to follow you as she enters, closing the door behind her.

she swiftly pushes you against the wall, holding a shard of broken glass to your throat. "who. the fuck. are you?"

"if you let me, i'll show you" she hesitates but backs up. you remove the mask and everything that covers your face and hair.

her mouth opens in shock. please, not this.

"you're fucking kidding me right? is this some kind of sick joke?" she says, staring wide eyed. "you were the one who helped me today and..oh my god. this entire time it was you"

as you try to get closer, she slaps your hand, rejecting you.

"se-mi, please"

"i can't believe you accepted this. do you have fun killing people? what if- what if you had to kill me?" anger slips through her words.

"i-i dont, se-mi" your eyes close, a few tears threaten to spill. "you lied to me too.. there was never a trip-"

"it's different! i came here to fucking end my debts to have our happy ending! you're just here for pleasure!

"it's not pleasure se-mi. i get fucking paid for this too, i need the money as much as you do" your voice elevates.

tears roll down your cheeks. it's useless.

"can we talk better outside?" you hiccup. "may-maybe when this is done we can get back home and-"

she dry chuckles, shooking her head no.

"you're fucking insane if you think there's an 'us' outside after this"

oh.

she must've seen your fat tears rolling down your cheeks because she attempts to comfort you, the habit being stronger than her. she closed her fist before any move, trying to control herself.

"right." you try to move but all you could do was try to breathe. if you didn't left this place in 2 minutes, you'll have a breakdown.

her gaze filled with anger, starts to disappear once she sees your teary eyes.

"fuck. im- i didn't meant- i" she stutters as her hands cover her face. "i fucked up, i didn't mean to say that-"

its too late, because you start placing all to cover yourself once again. she grabs your arm to stop you as you remove her grip.

"princess, i'm- exhausted and i'm confused and i'm fucking pissed i had you here all along, and my fucking 'friend' tried to kill me and he died in front of me because my girlfriend is the guard at this fucked up place and-" she pulls her hair as she takes a deep breath, clearly stressed.

she closes her eyes, this must be a fucked up nightmare, she thinks.

"baby- i'm sorry."

"you're not the only one who's been having it hard sem. you think this is a birthday party? you get paid to murder your own partners too. you killed them everytime you hit the circle. i need this too. the money- it goes all to my parents se-mi. i don't kill for fun. you need the money to pay your debts and i need the money to keep my parents alive." a sob escapes from your mouth as she looks at you, regret takes over her.

"but i'm fucking glad you lived though. as i'm also glad you lived in 'green light, red light' when i tried to avoid shooting near you to stop you from flinching. as i'm glad i kept you alive, even if i had to stay all night on the door to look after you while you slept after the games. as i'm glad i fucking saved you, while your friends left you to die."

you grab the mask, turning around as her mouth agapes like a fish, trying to find some words to say.

she has none. she knows you're right. or maybe you're both morally gray. you're as fucked up as she is.

and maybe now, she realizes it would've been better if there were no lies from the beggining.

"baby.." she murmurs as you start to head out the door, walking away.

"take care se-mi. i- i did everything i could. i had to pick between your life and mine. and i chose you. there's a big chance they'll kill me if they see the tapes, but at least you get out of here alive." you said, placing the mask again to cover your face.

and you leave. and she lets you leave.

and she cries against the wall until there are no more tears left to cry.

maybe she lost the game, but most importantly, she lost her lover.

and now, there's not a home to come back to, because you won't be there when she does.

[maelstrom007]

@ghouljams the worms are worming. . . I was listening to Depeche Mode today and Personal Jesus reminded me of your cult leader Price AU and it just has a death grip in my brain. . . All I could think of the whole song was Price manspreading in a chair with Ghost, Soap, and Gaz posed around him in dramatic backlighting, doing his biding to keep his cult in check.

Price is obviously cult leader, we get it, we know it, he's so charismatic and clever and manipulative and influential we know we know we know.

Thinking of what the other boys roles would be in this whole thing though. . .

Gaz is definitely the person on the outside clocking discontented people and setting in hooks. Absolutely gorgeous man, charismatic as fuck, endearing and non-threatening (at first glance), such blinding loyalty that he is able to see and interact with the outside world and not be tempted to leave. This simultaneously makes him adjusted enough to 'normal' life that he gives off very little red flags when inviting people in. He's also the person who befriends the new follower and makes sure that they're only seeing what they're supposed to, and vetting if they'd be impressionable enough to add to the flock. Testing their resistance to peer pressure, vetting them and making sure they're impressionable enough.

Soap is the listening ear on the inside. His job is to ingratiate himself amongst the followers and report any findings to Price, both good and bad. So not only is he keeping an eye out for disloyalty, plans to leave, discontent, etc. but he's also looking out for personal things like lost personal possessions, low stakes concerns, anything that Price can use to give individuals 'personal' time with him that makes him seem attentive or even slightly omniscient to the more spiritual followers.

Ghost's job is really to be that of a smoke screen. He is very visibly Price's 'right hand man', outwardly intimidating and such a hard ass on rule following that he acts as a force pushing followers to the sphere of Gaz and Soap. Because they couldn't be that close to Price, right? No one but Ghost is. So surely they're safe talking about their doubts and confusion, as long as Ghost is out of earshot. I feel like he also makes Price more valuable by making him more unobtainable. Unless Price comes to you, you need to seek an audience with him through Ghost. And 99% of the time even if you do get to see Price, Ghost will be there. At least that's what people say anyway. Price definitely isn't telling everyone that he's 'made an exception just for them' and that 'this'll be a secret between the two of them'. Definitely not.

I have this notion that it would be one of those self sufficiency communes that has their own internal ecosystem, growing their own food, making their own clothes, etc etc. They would send the well behaved followers to set up a stall at the nearby towns farmers market to keep up appearances and make sure that nobody in the town really bothers them. Who gives a shit what the group of farmers in the middle of nowhere are doing when their produce costs next to nothing and tastes divine? Maybe they should go out there some time and see what it's like. . .maybe learn how to take care of a plant or two of their own? And you've always wanted to learn how to do pottery, the cute guy on the corner says they're hosting a class this weekend. . . . . . . . . .

[hisaangel]

Frat!Luigi x reader

cw: Smut, kinda rough sex (hitting) , panty gag??, unprotected sex,

"Luigi Nicholas Mangione put me down!" smacking his shoulder, but the boy just answered with a "no, quiet" followed by a groan. Squirming in his arms. It didnt take long for Luigi to get the two of you where he wanted, planting you onto your feet in your shared bedroom.

"Lui-"

"Didnt i tell you to be quiet" he spat, pushing you onto the bed, his hungry lips finding yours, gasping into the kiss suprised by his eagerness.

"Luigi what is goi-" interrupted by a slap to your thigh, a squel leaving your lips in suprise, "quiet". His fingers trailing down to your waistband, ripping at the zipper of your jeans, pulling the fabric down, a smirk appearing on his face as he noticed the wet spot in your panties, "so wet..." his finger dipping into the fabric, dark eyes watching your every move as he rubs your sensitive clit.

Finally pulling your panties down, putting them into his backpocket, going back to assaulting your pussy, inserting two fingers into your dripping pussy, making you throw your head back, speechless at the feeling. Moans leaving your lips, as his fingers speed up, shaking at the pleasure. From one second to another all the pleasure was gone.

"Lu-" met with a harsh slap on your clit, "i told you to be fucking quiet and you just wont shut your pretty little mouth" his hand now travelling down to his backpocket, where he had placed your panties earlier, opening your mouth with his other hands placing the wet fabric in between your lips.

Luigi desperately pulling his pants and boxers down, his hard cock slapping against his toned abs.

"I'm going to ruin your pretty little pussy" his cock slipping through your dripping folds, your moans muffled by the fabric in your mouth. His pace cruel and his words even more. "Im not going to stop, gonna keep going until every last drop of me is filling your needy little pussy" pulling you into him even harder than before, his grip so tight that it would be leaving marks on you by tomorrow.

“such a fucking slut, my pathetic little slut”

Using your body as his personal rag doll. His pace getting more and more erratic, both of you getting closer to your pending orgasm. Luigi's thumb coming down to rub your clit pushing you over the edge, nails digging into his biceps, holding onto dear life as you came all over his cock, your walls clenching around his cock. Not slowing down his pace, chasing his own orgasm rapidly.

"i'm gonna fill you up and you're gonna take it like the good girl you are, arent you?"

Delivering a slap across your face as he finishes inside of you, his body spasming at the feeling of his load painting your insides. His hand reaching to pull the now drenched fabric out of your mouth, throwing them onto the ground.

"wow" you breathed out as his head dropped to your shoulder.

"sorry if i was too rough my love, ive just been stressed with the upcoming finals" pulling himself out of you, the only thing you could do in the moment was giggle "Maybe finals needs to come more often then"

"Absolutely not! but if you want me to fuck you like that more often we can arrange that baby" leaving pecks all over your face

"I'd love nothing more Lu" a giggle leaving your lips

[aquariusmiller]

Sell-out

Pairing: QZ!Joel x f!reader

Summary: After a smuggler Joel and Tess were working with didn’t pay for his end of the deal, Joel captures his girlfriend, you. Tired of your boyfriend’s scheming ways, you decide to use the situation to your advantage.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, captivity, mentions of m!oc, cheating, darkish!Joel, dubcon (power imbalance, eventual consent), oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talk, slight dom/sub dynamics

A/N: Happy New Year! Decided to do something different for this one-shot and I'm excited to put it out there because I personally love reading these types of stories and I've been writing this for a while. I appreciate any feedback and enjoy these messy characters! :)

masterlist

The first thing you feel waking up is sharp pain coming from the back of your head. You move your arm to inspect it, but the weight of chains stops you, clanging against the hard floor. You quickly open your eyes to see where you are.

The room you’re in is wide, brick walls of it covered with graffiti, holding a network of pipes. You... You know this place. You’ve seen it from outside of the abandoned warehouse near the QZ, waiting for your boyfriend Lucien to finish up meeting with his smuggling crew. You always hated the types of guys coming here and the way he’d try to fit in with them, mimicking them without noticing. Most of the time, though, you’d bear with it because his line of work brought in the resources. To him and to you. This has to be the shadiest place in a wide perimeter, and it smells like it; of sweat, dried blood and rusted metal.

You raise your arms slightly and turn to look at them. There’s a pull of the heavy metal again. You see chains tied around your wrists, locked around a metal pipe. You don’t remember any of this happening, much less getting here. Your mind runs a mile an hour, trying to find an answer to the burning question – why the hell are you here tied up?

Heavy and intent footsteps grow louder until you see a big wooden door open. Your eyes widen as you see who comes out, his bearded face and stern expression unmistakable. He leans on a small metal table, staring you down. Joel fucking Miller.

Of course you know who Joel Miller is. Along with Tess, he’s one of the most notorious smugglers in the Boston QZ, feared by even the toughest of brutes. Tess is the brains, Joel is the muscle. They worked with Lucien on his most recent deal and... Oh, shit. You know why you’re here.

His expression is nonchalant, except for a subtle scowl. “Finally. You’re awake.”

You look him straight in the eye, trying not to show the fear bubbling in your stomach. You curse yourself as a tremble in your voice betrays it. “Why am I here?”

He grins darkly at the tremble in your voice, satisfied with his plan to intimidate you. “You know why you’re here.”

Of course you do. This isn’t the first time Lucien’s sleazy tactics backfired on him, yet he always thought he knew better than you. Didn’t want to listen to your advice and did as he pleased. Now you’re the one captured for it.

You decide in a split second you’ll pretend you have no idea. “No, I don’t.”

“Liar.” He says menacingly.

“What do you want?” You get annoyed and struggle against the chains.

“No use strugglin’. You’ll just hurt yourself. And I want my share.” He walks around as he speaks, heavy boots stomping on the concrete floor. You have to resist the urge to flinch at every one of his steps. “Thought you were so smart, double-crossing me and Tess.”

You glare at him, determined not to let him sense your fear. “Me? I’m not a smuggler.”

He smirks. “Oh, right. Forgot you’re Lucien’s arm candy.”

You know what he’s doing. Trying to coax an answer out of you by implying your only use is standing still and looking pretty. You won’t fall for it. You tilt your head. “Forgot you’re Tess’s muscle.”

You see a flicker of annoyance pass him at the quip before he composes himself. “The muscle could snap you in half.”

You keep glaring up at him. “Good thing. Nothing else going for you.”

He comes closer and kneels in front of you, his shadow looming over your frame. “You’re makin’ this a whole lot harder on yourself.”

You keep eye contact as he comes closer to you, his breath hitting your face, your breath speeding up from adrenaline and... His proximity. He’s so close you can smell his musk mixed with gun powder. God, not him. Not right now. You swallow.

He smirks. “What? Cat ate your tongue?”

You struggle to think as your skin warms up slightly, making part of you not want to leave. Looking away from him towards the floor, you shake out of it. The chains are tied to the pipe with a lock. If you’re lucky and he hasn’t thought this through, he could be keeping the keys to the lock somewhere on him. Joel wouldn’t, but it’s worth a try. You could also convince him to let you go. You’ve talked your way out of worse, and Joel is a pragmatic man. If you figure out what he wants, you stand a chance.

After a few seconds of running through this in your head, you have a plan of action. “I can give you your share.”

He leans a bit away to check your facial expression, determine if you’re deceptive. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah. It was a stupid idea, and I told him that. You should be made up for your struggle.” You try to keep your expression flat, playing up the “you deserve compensation” card.

He hums, smiling slyly. “You’re good. Can’t tell if you’re lyin’.”

“Well, I’m telling the truth.” You huff, genuinely annoyed this time at the predicament you’re in because of your boyfriend. “So how about we cut a deal and you get me out of these?” You raise your arms as much as the chains tying them on your back will allow.

He raises his eyebrow. “You’re takin’ this way better than I thought.”

You roll your eyes. “Not used to people coming in to save me.”

He shrugs and nods. “See...” He gets up slowly from his crouching position, walking around again. “I could cut you a deal.” He stops and looks you over, his eyes scanning your body slowly, like a predator deciding whether to play with its prey or finish the hunt. “Ain’t sure you’re gonna like it, though.”

Relief, intrigue and a bit of fear are swirling in your chest. Your voice cracks but you compose it quickly. “Go ahead. Shoot.”

He comes closer to you and crouches again, stroking your cheek with no emotion in his eyes, searching yours for any signs of discomfort. Chills prickle your skin and you’re not sure if you want to bite your lip to hold back your reactions or to spur him on. You refrain from it.

You should move to stop him. But it’s as if his gaze is keeping you in place, looking into your very soul.

“This is about sendin’ a message.” He strokes your cheek with his knuckles, the roughness of his calloused hand pleasant against your soft skin. “So you can tell me where you keep everythin’ you own, or...” He bites his lip, his eyes closing slightly with lust. “We can do somethin’ else.”

You’re breathing heavily, you heart beating quickly in your chest, leaning against the wall to get as much distance as you can from him in a desperate attempt to think clearly.

All of Lucien and your resources or... Whatever Joel’s up to? You don’t like this. You’re cornered. As much as you’re intrigued by the latter, you have a sinking feeling in your gut you’ll be forced to do it anyway. You frown in resignation.

You turn back to Joel, your tongue on your teeth in anger. “What else?” You spit out.

He smirks, aware of his position, taking his hand off your cheek. “You’re a smart girl. ’M sure you’ll figure it out.”

Thinking of your next move, you look at him frustrated. You lunge and bite the front of his shirt, keeping him in place as you try to will your chained hands to move to his jean pockets and look for the key.

He scoffs in frustration and shakes you off, pinning your shoulders against the wall. “Goddamnit-“

You slam against the wall, scowling at him.

He keeps you pinned and scoffs. “Oh, c’mon.” He smiles slyly, running his finger down the pulse point on your neck. “Afraid you’ll like it?” He leans in and whispers in your ear, his lips lightly grazing the shell of it. “You already do.”

You hate him with a fiery passion. You hate the invisible pull between you two and the way your breath is quickening.

He keeps whispering. “Smart girl. Sharp as a whip. Bet he doesn’t know how to handle ya.” He runs his hands down your sides, stoking the fire lit in you.

Your eyes shut slightly on their own accord, the sensation in your core pleasant. He’s flattering you, using your vanity against you as if he’s reading into your mind.

“I could make good use of you.” He whispers, his breath hitting your ear. “In a lotta ways.” His words are seductive, but you sense a deeper meaning. He sees tangible value in your calculating mind and survival instincts.

You should resist him. Use any tactic you can think of and try to run. But you’re curious about what he could do to you. You like the thought, and your body’s betraying you too, heat pooling low.

You’re also curious about the vision of Joel treating you like an equal. Tess is his partner in crime and you’re not sure how you’d fit in the picture. Yet, desperation for recognition Lucien never gave you lets you think wishfully for a fleeting moment. Does thinking like this make you a traitor? Weak willed? A sell-out? What devastates you is you’re not sure Lucien would care for this more than losing his supplies.

There’d likely be hell to pay either way. Hell with Joel seems like the lesser one.

So you entertain Joel. You bite your lip and turn to him slightly as you whisper. “Bet you could.”

He slowly pulls away from your ear and smiles slyly. “You’re comin’ around.”

You return his sly smile with your own. “Are you gonna make good on your promise?”

He leans in, his lips inches from yours, an invitation for you to close the distance. “You bet.”

You look down at his lips, corners of your mouth crooked into a smug smile. Temptation rises in you, pulling you in like a moth to a flame. And a flame will it be when Lucien finds out.

You lean in and kiss him. He kisses you back searingly, full of pent up aggression and desire, biting your lip softly. You moan at the slight sting, both getting lost in this desperate and carnal moment, mouth to mouth, no more space for thinking. His tongue finds your lower lip, asking for access. You grant it instantly, opening your mouth to let him explore it. You catch his tongue with yours and they glide against each other in a slow dance.

Moaning, you pull away. He grunts slightly at the loss of your lips on his. There’s a certain question in the way you look at him now that he can’t answer; how far is this going? He’s swept away in the tide of his arousal and letting it guide him.

He gets up and puts his hand on your chin, lifting it and tapping it as he speaks commandingly. “On your knees.”

You blink a few times in surprise and swallow your pride before you get up on your knees, tugging at the cold chains as you shift from your sitting position. Your core is fluttering even as you’re feeling like uncertainty is pressing down on your chest.

He smirks at your current position and tilts your head up, nudging you softly with his words. “Open wide. C’mon.”

You lick your lips as you look up at him with an expression juxtaposing what you’re feeling. Ready. In too deep, you’re seeing this through, letting him take you through the unknown. You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out.

“Eager for me, huh?” He strokes your chin tenderly, like you’re something to be handled carefully. “Good girl.”

You smile smugly with your eyes, keeping your mouth open, the last shreds of your restraint keeping you from giving fully into him.

The sound of him unbuckling his belt echoes through the warehouse interior. He slides it off, pulling down his jeans. You get a good look at the bulge straining against his boxers. God, he seems big. A bit of worry of you’ll fit him in your mouth comes over you.

He just grins at your hesitant frown and reaches for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down. His length is bobbing on his abdomen, red and angry, already leaking precum. You instinctively tilt your head and bite your lip at the sight. His bulge didn’t fool you about his size, and of course it’s as demanding and manly as the rest of him.

He looks at you sternly. “Go on. I ain’t got all day.”

He’s taunting your doubts, and you might agree with the sentiment. You want to be so full of him you can’t think. You lick up the drops leaking from his slit, looking up at him with wide, pliant eyes.

He strokes the back of your head, sucking in a breath. “There we go.” He grips your hair and pulls you in the direction of his cock. You wrap your mouth around his tip, swirling your tongue, before you push in deeper.

He grunts. He grips your hair, his eyes shutting slightly at the sensation of your warm mouth. “Just like that, baby. So good.” He pats your cheek with his other hand.

You bob your head, setting up a steady pace. You inhale his musk as you take him in deeper each time.

He’s a mess of grunts and low moans. He grips your hair with both hands and starts thrusting into you with abandon. He hits the back of your throat and even as you gag, you close your eyes and moan, the vibration pleasant on his cock. He lit up a wildfire inside you. At this point, you’re helpless to stop it.

Even in his haze, he’s making sure to hold your head securely to keep you from falling backwards. He lets out a groan as he bucks into you, struggling to speak. “Takin’ me so well. You like chokin’ on it?”

You moan in approval. You’re getting off on being tied up and used like this, the ache in your core becoming almost unbearable. So intent on doing whatever he wants, you don’t care if it gets eased.

“’M not sure how long I can last.” He pulls out of your mouth slowly, the saliva stream connecting your mouth with his cock as he does. You open your eyes, looking up at him half-lidded, close to being completely spent. He strokes your cheek, scared he’s hurt you. “You okay?” His voice is tinged with warmth you didn’t expect.

You nod as you look into his hazel eyes, still devoid of emotion but attentive in their own way, glimpses of the man he must have been before the world hardened him.

“Where d’you want me?” He keeps stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“I want you inside me.” There’s almost a desperation in the way you look up at him, not sure if it’s for him to slide into you or to keep him giving these small crumbs of attention.

He nods as his gaze skims over your body slowly. As if he just remembered something, he stops in consideration. He orders, slight irritation at this thought ruining his fun in his voice. “Turn around.”

You narrow your eyes questioningly and hesitantly turn around to face the wall. Gripping your arm, he unties the chains around your wrists. Relief and confusion come over you. Is he going to...?

He is. You recognize the sound of keys clinking behind you before he turns the key in the lock keeping the chains to the pipe. The chains fall to the floor with a loud clang. You finally move your arms, sore and chafed by them, rubbing the marks.

Why would he let you go before you get to the good part? Wait... Guess there are invisible lines Joel won’t cross. As much as he liked the power he had over you, he wants you to have a choice in this. To know you’re doing this on your own accord, not to escape, not fearing for your life. This is just his test of that. He stands behind you for a few moments, gauging your reaction, watching whether you’re preparing to flee.

As you stand with your arms free, all your instincts tell you to run. But where to? Back in the arms of the boyfriend who makes you fear his betrayal every single day? It’s only a matter of time before his backstabbing tendencies are turned on you, you think.

To be fair, Joel is not the most reliable man to turn to next, but you decide to explore what has transpired between you further.

You turn around and look at him, his bulge still straining against his pulled up jeans, tilting your head and smiling knowingly. “Go on. I ain’t got all day.”

“Good. Thought you’d try to run.” He grins and nods, and you can see relief clearly painted on his face. “Woulda been a shame.” His voice takes on a lower and more confident tone.

He grabs your arms and moves you to the patch of brick beside the pipe you were locked to, pinning you to it. Your faces are close together and now you’re both smiling like two teenagers sneaking off to do something forbidden. He slides his tongue into your mouth again as you open it eagerly. You kiss briefly before his fingers slip past the waistband of your jeans inside your panties. He hums. “Already wet for me, aren’t you?”

You nod as you exhale in pleasure. “So wet.”

He parts your folds with his finger, not pushing in, just teasing. “Let’s see how wet you can get...”

Your core is throbbing and his touch keeps making it worse. Leaning your head back against the wall, you sigh. “Oh God...”

He smiles slyly as his fingers find your clit, rubbing teasingly. “Lucky bastard, Lucien... Gonna fuck you so hard you forget all about him.”

You look at Joel in surprise at mentioning him, too worked up to care at this point, perhaps even tempered by the anger and resentment you harbor for Lucien. Too late to turn back anyway, you think you like the way this is sticking it to him. A subtle sly smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

He takes his hand out of your jeans and begins undoing the button and zipper on them. As he does, your chest is rapidly rising and falling and you feel the heat spreading through your body, consuming you. You clutch onto his belt, undoing it once more along with his jeans and boxers. He hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down.

He taps the head of his cock to your clit, your arousal mixing. You move your hips instinctively for him to push in, but he makes sure to torment you for a moment longer, tapping it against you again.

“Joel...” You whine.

“You want it? I wanna hear you.” He pushes in just the head of his cock, closing his eyes in pleasure.

“Yes! Yes, I want it so badly. Please...” Before you’re even done begging, Joel can’t take it anymore and pushes all the way in. In one rough stroke, he’s fully inside you. Your breath’s almost knocked out and a slight sting from his size quickly turns into pleasure.

He stills for a moment, letting you adjust. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

He slides out of you a bit before he slams back in. He sets a ruthless pace, each thrust pushing your hips to the wall and hitting deep inside of you. You lean against the cold brick, your lips parted and your eyes half-lidded, moaning. It’s almost animalistic, the way you’re both losing your bearings in this dirty warehouse.

“Atta girl. Take all of me.” He picks up speed as he presses closer to you, taking your nipple between his fingers through your shirt and pinching it, his voice husky and low. “Who’s fucking you harder than he ever did?”

“You, Joel.” The words come out of you without even thinking about them.

He grins proudly. “Damn right.” His hand reaches for your thigh, raising it slightly so it’s wrapped around his waist. The angle he’s thrusting at changes and you feel him hitting that delicious spot inside you that makes your vision blur. Now you’re a mess of gasps and moans.

He pounds into you relentlessly. “’M close. Gonna fill you up full of me.”

Too deep into the blissed out haze, you moan and nod, only thinking about how good it will feel. And it does. He buries his face in your shoulder as he fills you, hot pulses of his thick release pumped deep inside you. His cock is throbbing inside you as he empties himself. The sensations send you over the edge, and you lean your head back and moan as waves of pleasure crash over you.

He stays like that for a while as you both catch your breath. Sated and wrapped up around him, you close your eyes, coming down from the high. The tension from your initial meeting has dissolved, leaving you both light and boneless. You wrap your fingers in his hair, stroking it as he tries to gather his bearings.

There is not much to say after what’s already said and done, besides the question making your chest tighten as you both put your clothes back on. Is Joel going to brag to Lucien about this, more so – was this kind of payback his plan all along?

Something in your stomach twists at the thought that you were a pawn Joel successfully used in his game, but you don’t regret the way this has forced you out of the convenience of being by Lucien’s side.

As you zip up your jeans, your gaze falls back on Joel’s questioning expression. He can tell you’re lost in thought.

“Will you tell Lucien about this?” You say it with more bite than you intended, angry at the thought of being used.

He considers your question then shakes his head. “Won’t if you don’t want me to.” He grins. “Reckon it’s not my style anyway.”

Exhaling in relief and amusement, you nod. “Alright.” Your legs are sore as you head for the steel doors of the warehouse.

He raises his eyebrow at your abrupt exit and calls out. “We gonna see each other again?” He wants to, you can tell by his tone.

You turn around on your way out and contemplate whether you want to see him again. You connected physically but you feel like connecting emotionally with Joel would be an endless chase of something never to be caught. You’re so drawn to him. You don’t want to go. But you tilt your head as you answer bluntly with a smile. “No.”

He shrugs indifferently as the steel sliding door grinds while you open it. “Probably for the best.”

[elysianightsss]

I BURN FOR YOU | PART THREE

He snaps his head up, eyes locking with yours with an intensity you’ve never seen before. “When the next two months are over, you’re going to stay with me and it’s going to be your choice this time.” Simon takes a hold of your hand, kissing the top of it before holding it in between the both of his.

“I will make every effort to make it so darling.”

Your sharp gasp is a most enjoyable sound for Simon that he certainly plans on hearing again. You pull your hand from his and start to make your way out of the room.

“Darling?” Simon stands and begins after you. You whip around quickly catching him off guard.

“You’re rude and mean and cold for weeks! I shout at you once and you’re suddenly the perfect gentleman?” Your eyes narrow into slits, “I don’t buy it.”

“I can only apologise for my previous irresponsible behaviour.” Simon sounds genuine but you don’t want to believe it.

“Irresponsible?” You question his choice of words.

“It’s irresponsible if I have ruined any chance of getting you to stay at the end of these two months.” His voice holds a tone you’re unfamiliar with, not just from Simon but from any man you’ve ever encountered. It sounds like begging. The way his brow furrows deep, his eyes aren’t cold but are warm and welcoming, he looks just about ready to fall to his knees but you highly doubt that.

Everything that was once cold and harsh now screams to you to come closer, bellows to you to fall into his arms, like a siren he becomes your walking dream. You have to take a sharp breath in, you have to steel yourself. He had been cold and rude to you for almost a whole month now, you were not going to give into his new facade so easily.

“I don’t believe whatever this is,” you gesture to all of him, “no one can change over night.”

But he had. When you yelled in his face that this wasn’t your choice either, a realisation had struck him that he feels an simpleton he didn’t think about it before, you didn’t choose this just as he hadn’t chosen it. He had been giving you the cold shoulder with the prejudice that you had chosen this and agreed to marry him. That you had brought this misery upon him.

But to realise you had been forced into this with no way out, only then did he understand how much of a cunt he’d been to you. You, a sweet gorgeous woman who had been forced to put up with his shit from the day you said I do, suffering in silence until yesterday.

“Let me prove it to you.” Simon takes hold of your hand, speaking soft and calm. His eyes hold so much emotion you almost can’t seem look into them without giving into him. He sees you’re still uncertain and rightfully so, “I will try my utmost to show you I am no longer cold, and that I wish for you to stay with me.”

You simply frown and pull your hand away. Simon can see it though, the acceptance glistening in those pretty eyes of yours. You’re not going to say it aloud, definitely not, but he has a chance and he’s not going to fuck it up.

The difference is outstanding, extraordinary almost. It’s like he’s an entirely different man from the one you had been dealing with for a month. He waits for you during meals times, waits for you to fuss with your dress and hair, waits for you to sip your wine, waits for you to pick up your knife and fork before even thinking about picking up his.

He makes conversation during these times too, asks about your day at dinner or what you had planned at breakfast. He smiles as he listens to you talk about a new book you read in the library, tells you about the time his mother used to read to him when he’d wake up from nightmares as a child.

Simon actively seeks you out throughout the day, whether it’s with a rose in hand he’d picked specially for you or to ask if you’d join him for tea or a walk in the gardens perhaps. He finds ways to make you smile or laugh, and though you curse yourself for it, it’s so nice to laugh. Sometimes by the end of dinner you’re laughing so hard your stomach hurts.

You can’t help but think about the sheer contrast from your first meal together, Simon with a frown permanently etched on his perfectly structured face. You not even wanting to speak to him and battling your internal thoughts of never having happiness. To this, laughter and a happiness you hadn’t felt before.

Simon also starts to walk you to your room at the end of the evening and bid you goodnight. Tonight as you walk side by side, after one too many glasses of wine you’re unable to stop yourself from your words. “Sometimes you are entirely confusing,” your words sound a little slurred, it’s makes Simon hum interested in what you have to say though.

He’s figured out that you forget yourself after a few drinks, you spill your soul to him in a way he’s been internally begging for. You always apologise for your actions at breakfast the next morning when your head is aching. But he brushes you off, saying he loves to hear what you have to say. He enjoys you being so open with him.

Your heels clip and clop against the black and white marble flooring as you continue, “I thought you said you wouldn’t be walking me to my room.” You raise a brow, glancing at him next to you. So tall.

Simon smiles down at you softly, you looked especially beautiful tonight. The light purple glittering dress you’d chosen to wear suits you impeccably. Your hair is a sweet updo with a small section of your hair remaining out of the bun and curled in the London fashion. Your cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and your smile is a little lopsided. You looked ethereal. Like a deity. An unobtainable being and yet you’re his to have and hold, to love and to cherish.

He’d done a shit job thus far, not anymore.

“I believe your mistaken my lady,” Simon’s playful tone brings a giggle bubbling up your throat, “that was said by another man. And awful, rude-“

“-cock of a man.” You freeze, eyes widening at your loose lips. Hesitantly you glance up at your husband to your right, he’s staring down at you, lips parted in shock, eyes widened in surprise. It’s so quiet in the hallway as you’ve both stopped walking you think you’d be able to hear your hairpin drop.

Then suddenly Simon laughs, it’s a bellowing full belly laugh. It brightens your mood and calms you all at once. The sound makes you start to laugh too, until you’re both stood in an empty hallway laughing uncontrollably.

“Oh darling, you truly amuse and amaze me. You’re truly unlike any woman I’ve ever met.” The Duke tells you earnestly, sighing after catching his breath. You feel a warm arm wrap around your waist just as you start to sway.

You both start to walk again, it’s in a sweet silence. A peaceful serenity that you both bathe in until you’re finally in front of your room. A frown begins to grow on his face, he wishes he could demand you move your things into his room just so you could both continue to be together peacefully like this.

“Thankyou,” you bring his undivided attention back to you, “for walking me to my room. I bid you goodnight your grace.” You smile up at him.

Simon smiles back, maybe he’s had one too many glasses of wine too, he thinks, as he finds himself leaning closer to you. No it’s not the wine, it’s just you. You’re simply enchanting to him, like a witch has put a spell on him, he’s in a trance leaning forward and pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth.

One could argue it was your cheek but it was far too close to your lips for there to be any sound evidence for that. And there it was again, that sharp gasp Simon has been dreaming about ever since he first heard it. The way your chest jolts with it, God you drive him insane.

“That scent,” he inhales lips suddenly at the shell of your ear, nostrils flaring as he takes a breath in deep. He feels dizzy at the scent, “roses.” He whispers, groaning slightly, feeling on a high from being so close to you.

Feeling the cold wall against your back and the warmth of his body pressing to yours makes you light headed. Weak at the knees, they buckle slightly but you’re not afraid to fall when your husband is holding you up so diligently.

“Simon.” You breathe out, his face is the closest it’s ever been. You can feel his hot breath, it’s strong of wine and those delectable chocolates you had for dessert. It’s dizzying. Simon moves his face in front of you, eyes locking with yours. You feel it again, the electricity around you both, crackling and popping in the air. Sparks flying.

“You’re beautiful, wife.” He whispers full of conviction. His irises blown wide, covering the brown in his gorgeous eyes. Simon rests his forehead on yours. You find yourself inching forward.

You want him to kiss you, want him to hold you, you simply want him. Simon is internally battling if it’s acceptable to kiss you. You are his wife, but he’s just started laying the ground work and building a friendship with you. He’s doesn’t want you to think he’s doing it to just to sleep with you. He doesn’t want your mind to jump to you being used in any way shape or form.

So he kisses your cheek once more, soft, plump lips pressing against the skin. Stubble pressing into your cheek in a way that actually does make your knees buckle, but Simon’s got you. He tells you so.

“Goodnight darling.” Disappointingly, your husband pulls away and bows to you before leaving swiftly down the hall. You watch him the whole way until he disappears round the corner, it’s only then that you enter your bedroom and flop onto your bed.

Your three maids are waiting for you, all of them smiling at you. The whole household is happy the Duke and Duchess are finally getting along and even a romantic bond is building there. They help undress you and dress you for bed all while you compliment Simon with slurred words and a lopsided grin on your face.

The same lopsided grin Simon wears after hearing exactly what you said about him last night.

You start to sit with him when he works, reading your books. He makes the effort to ask what you’re reading and your favourite chapter so far, but, you’ve noticed he’s not actually listening as he stares at the difficult account ledgers in front of him. However the effort to ask makes you smile nonetheless.

He seems overly stressed today when you enter the east wing study, your smile instantly dropping at the sight. “Simon?” You don’t have to ask if he’s okay, your concern is not only present in your tone but it’s clear as day on your face as well.

“We need to attend the Price ball tonight.” He says nothing more, wiping his hands down his face. He looks exhausted. You step further into the room coming to a stop in front of his desk.

“Of course. It’s only fair as we missed the last one, and the Viscountess would not stop making me feel guilty about it at the ladies luncheon last week.” You agree with a smile that makes Simon soften.

“Thank you.” He says quietly reaching for your hand and giving it a small squeeze.

“Well I suppose I must get ready then.”

Simon thinks this is the longest he’s ever waited, not just for you, but for any woman ever to get ready for a ball.

But when you descend the grand stair case, he does not care. His breath is caught in his throat at the sight of you. You’re not in the usual London fashion and he’s loving it, soaking it up like fine expensive liquor.

You’re in a dark red dress that’s a tad big tighter than London dresses are, it shapes you and accentuates your figure perfectly. Your hair is pinned up in a plaited bun with small red roses accessorising it. You’ve got a soft glow to your face too, reddened cheeks from the rouge that your maid had put there and a red lip to match the rest of you.

Simon doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more exquisite in all his years.

“You’re staring.” You smirk at him feeling jittery at the look in his eyes.

“You’re stunning.” He quips back unable to look anywhere but you. Even as Johnny clears his throat and informs you both that the carriage is ready. Even as he is passed his gloves, scarf and cloak. Even as you cover up the dress with a cloak of your own to fight off the winter chill. Even during the bumpy carriage ride to the Viscount’s estate. Simon doesn’t look away once, something you feel yourself heating up at.

To have his eyes on you, not just your face but your body too. It sends a wave of something you’ve never felt before through your lower abdomen, you just know it feels good. You’re disappointed when he looks away to get out of the carriage but you suppose it’s better than him face planting into the gravel.

The Viscount’s estate is large, smaller than Simon’s but still large nonetheless. Mayfair Hall, Simon told you it was called. It was all lit up and sounded loud inside, busy and bustling with the life and soul of London’s ton.

You take off your cloak, smoothing your dress down and making sure your hair is still in place despite the freezing breeze. “Stop fussing, you look better than anyone here.” You scoff at your husband’s words.

“You haven’t even seen anyone inside there yet.” Simon licks his lips, wetting them to keep them from drying out in the cold while you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need to see inside to know you’re easily more beautiful than anyone here darling.” The Duke smoothly replies ignoring the way the footmen glance at him surprised.

“Well aren’t you quite the charmer!” Before you can say anything you’re both taken off guard by the hostess herself coming out of the estate to greet you both. She’s absolutely stunning in a dark green dress, “You’ll have to teach John.” She jokes to Simon before turning to you and greeting you with a hug.

She may have made you feel guilty at the ladies luncheon but she was easily the nicest person there, “I’m so happy you came tonight!” She squeals linking arms with you, leading you inside.

The night goes by swiftly, Simon goes off with John somewhere together after about three dances with you. It leaves you at the mercy of the ton and gossip. So far you’d managed to avoid anyone who wasn’t your husband, the Viscount and Viscountess. But as both men are off discussing the issue Simon is having with his ledgers and the Viscountess is busy hosting you’re no longer provided such protection, which the vultures seem to notice.

Two vultures in particular, Lady Germain and Lady Trowridge make their way over to you, curtsying respectfully before attacking.

“How are things with the Duke?” Lady Germain asks.

“I hear it was an arranged marriage, you must not be very happy.” Lady Trowridge says like she’s answering for you.

“Oh, you must not be making any heirs then.” Lady Germain looks you up and down with a slight disgust.

“That all depends on how respectful the Duke is, though he is still a man after all.” Lady Trowridge once again speaks as though the question is not aimed at you.

This goes on for what feels like a lifetime, they go back and forth, one pointing questions your way while the other answers for you in an abstract way. Neither one letting you speak as they belittle you, Simon, your relationship with your husband, the fact that you’re not pregnant yet and more. It’s makes you want the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“Do either of you ever stop talking?” You ask genuinely, a little too loud drawing attention, after basically downing your fourth glass of champagne. Both ladies blink at you in shock, “How do you not get tired of listening to your own voices?” You shake your head astonished before walking away.

You had been excited for this ball, happy to be out and with Simon. But now it felt like a big mistake, that Simon should have scheduled a different time with John to talk about the books so you could stay in your secluded home with your walls up and where these ghastly vultures couldn’t reach you.

You begin to leave, asking for your cloak from the boy you’d given it to at the start of the evening when you weren’t feeling the gut wrenching pain you are now. Being not only belittled by them, but for them to talk so openly about the fact that Simon probably hadn’t bedded you yet. Wouldn’t want to touch you and that you’d most definitely never have children with him.

Your heart ached at the thought. Even with your slowly building relationship, you hadn’t given things like marital relations between the two of you that much thought. Maybe because you didn’t see it happening yourself, that bothered you but not as much as never being able to mother your own child did.

That was something that was still raw, something that you were still mourning the loss of, something you don’t think you’ll ever have. For them to rip open the stitches you’d tried so hard to keep tight for the wound to heal, it was truly devastating.

You wanted to leave and never return to society.

The boy handed you your cloak just as Simon rounded the corner, eyes a little frantic until they landed on you and softened into concern. Coming over to you he instantly noticed something wrong and asked you what it was.

But you refused to tell him, muttering out a nothing, that’d you’d simply had enough and wanted to leave. Simon didn’t press the matter further, he wasn’t one for society so he was more than happy to go.

After a quick goodbye to the host and hostess, the carriage is summoned and you’re back on that bumpy ride. Except this time, the carriage isn’t full of lust and happiness, it’s full of a harsh atmosphere. You’re miserable, biting back the tears refusing to let them fall in front of Simon just like you’re refusing to look at him. You know if you do you’ll break down in his arms and tell him everything those awful women said.

You don’t want anything to ruin what you have, things have changed for the better. You don’t want to put him off now.

Simon can tell there’s something you’re hiding from him, but he’s happy to be patient with you and won’t push unless it’s absolutely necessary. Though he does try to ask you once more when you arrive home, but you simply say it’s nothing and scramble away to your room, he watches you go.

It brings him back to the first few weeks of your marriage, the feeling it brings him is sickening. He doesn’t want your walls to go back up, he wants you to unfold yourself to him. Confide in him, let him comfort you. But it looks like you’re not there yet.

You slam the door in your maids faces, sliding down the white painted wood as you finally let the tears fall. You cry hard, pulling a pillow from your bed to shove your face into. It’s a loud scream that escapes your throat, muffled by the cushion, but loud nonetheless. You screamed out every feeling that had built up with each word out of their disgusting mouths.

Pouring your despair into the pillow was the only thing you wanted to do. So caught up in the pain and the insults swirling in your head, you don’t hear the door opening or the rushed food steps, the knees dropping to the floor beside you. Or maybe you do and you simply choose to ignore them as you continue to sob until warm, thick arms envelop you in a protective hold.

“Oh my darling.” His words are soft and dripping with sympathy, you can’t hear. It’s like your ears are stuffed with cotton balls, your eyes sting and your mouth feels dry but you can’t stop crying. Simon wasn’t going to make the same mistake as he made last time when he just listened to you cry.

No, not this time. He was going to hold close you until the last tear, and be ready with an open mind to listen to exactly what brought on this onslaught of sadness.

Then he was going rain hellfire on whoever caused it.

To be continued…

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[007chan]

coward

riki’s always been observant. he's been observant since he was a little boy, always noticing things that others didn't.

he noticed how unhappy his mother was with his father, notices how jake blushes every time he makes eye contact with jungwon, and he notices how gloomy sunoo has seemed since he said he's found a new tutor.

he doesn't wanna seem creepy but he can't help but look for sunoo everywhere he goes. despite pushing the older away, riki can't help but feel drawn to him. always wanting to be in his presence. to be the one who listens to his gossip, to be the one who laughs at his stupid jokes. he craves it. he can't help it, no matter how hard he tries, he finds himself craving sunoo.

that's why now, finding himself standing in front of sunoo, he's more than shocked. riki feels time stop when he taps his finger on sunoo’s shoulder. originally riki had come to the library to meet up with jake. today being their first ever tutoring session. the last thing he expected was to be in front of sunoo, but when his eyes landed on him, he found his feet moving on their own volition. he mentally curses his body, forcing himself to be in front of the one person he's trying so hard to avoid.

sunoo is clearly the most surprised out of the two, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline at the sight of the younger. not wasting a second sunoo scrambles out of his chair to get in riki’s face. "you. what is wrong with you?" he asks, his expression unreadable.

riki raises an eyebrow at the shorter, "whats wrong with me?" sunoo rolls his eyes dramatically. riki watches sunoo take a deep breath, watches how his angry expression turns into a sullen one. "listen, i get wanting to change tutors. i do! really, i do." he pauses, eyes flicking to riki’s lips briefly, "but why not give me more of a heads up? i mean you told me a day before our next session, why so sudden?"

riki feels himself start to sweat at the question. despite being the one to put himself in this situation(more like his body's subconscious need to be around sunoo), he wasn't ready to speak to him.

"im sor-" his voice cracks. he looks away, embarrassed. riki clears his throat, "im sorry it was so sudden, i just.." the taller finds himself unable to finish his sentence. all he can focus on is the sad eyes staring back at him. he cant help but be in awe of how breathtaking sunoo looks despite the sadness all over his face.

sunoo opens his mouth to probably say something that will break rikis heart entirely when a voice calls out sunoos name.

the shorter looks behind riki, his eyes soften and the frown on his lips turn upward into a smile. riki spins on his feet to glare at the person who interrupted sunoo. chest tightening at the sight of the man who stands before them.

"jay!" sunoo pushes past riki, excitedly greeting said man. riki notices two drinks and a bag in jays hands, "sorry im late, the lines were long as fuck." he hears jay say to sunoo, his voice sweet. he watches as jay hands sunoo the bag, how the shorter curiously taking a peek inside. he watches how sunoo gasps in surprise and beams up at jay.

riki doesn't hear what sunoo says to jay after that. all he can focus on is the ringing in his ears and how his eyes are starting to burn. jay finally notices riki as he and sunoo walk over to the table sunoo was previously studying at.

"riks?" the man tilts his head, surprised yet happy to see riki. all riki can bring himself to do is nod in acknowledgement, not trusting his voice to be steady.

jay looks wearily between sunoo and riki, his eyebrows furrowed. "am i interrupting something?" he asks, mouth turning downwards into a small frown.

riki clenches his jaw unable to take his eyes away from the bag delicately held in sunoos hands. he feels sunoo’s eyes burn into him, yet he cant meet his gaze.

with lips pressed in a thin line, riki shakes his head. "nah." he feels his throat tighten, "we're done here," he glances at jay briefly before finally looking into sunoo’s eyes. "he's all yours." riki sees sunoo's face crumble and he speed walks out of the library. giving no time for the other two to respond, giving no time for himself to think about how sunoo looked at him. forcing himself to believe that sunoo’s calls of his name are simply in his head.

it's only when he's outside of the library that he remembers why he was there in the first place. he curses to himself, shoving his hand into his bag in search of his phone.

riki tries to ignore the way the pain in his chest has become unbearable. how his eyes prick with pathetic tears. he opens his and jakes chat typing out a quick message with a weak excuse on why he won't make it to their session. he only waits a second before jake is replying cursing him and his entire bloodline. he laughs softly at the olders antics, typing one more quick apology to jake before turning off his phone.

he berates himself the entire walk back to his house for crying over something as trivial as this. he's just supposed to be a fake boyfriend to sunoo, hes supposed to make jay jealous, yet here he is. getting jealous over his very own best friend and crying over his very own real feelings for sunoo. he keeps telling himself he can be happy for the two, that he's happy himself, despite knowing deep down he's not.

he doesn't want to accept it, but jakes right. he’s a fucking coward.

SUMMARY: riki has seen many things as sunoo's neighbor. he's seen him late for school rushing out the door, he's seen him help his mother bring in groceries, and he's even seen him get dropped off by friends. what riki hasnt seen is sunoo asking him to be his fake boyfriend.

sorry hehe 🤗🤗

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