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javierpena-inatacvest · 19 hours ago

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Chapter 5- Miles Between Us

Summary: Frankie's decision to join the Army was the catalyst in the collapse of your friendship. When he's forced to reconcile with his past, packed away in boxes in his childhood basement, he finds pieces of you in everything he's left behind.

Word Count: 5.0K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, lying, guilt, military deployment, FEELINGS, Frankie's mom not putting up with his shit

A/N: IT'S TIME TO PEEL BACK ANOTHER LAYER OF THE ONION, BABY!!! I hope you guys don't hate me that this is a slow burn- I know this is not how I normally write at all, but it's been really fun to build this story up bit by bit (if you hate it though, please tell me lmao 💀) I'm excited for this chapter and how it hints at next chapter (we're finally getting to some smut y'all, omg) Thank you as always for your kind words, it makes my day to hear what you have to say about these two 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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You, Age 17, Spring of 2006

“You’re late, Morales.”

“Can’t be late to something we don’t have a set time for, Anderson.”

It’s true, you and Frankie have never set an official schedule for your afterschool ritual, but it never seems to fail that at 3:45, only 10 minutes after you’ve gotten home from soccer practice, he’s at the foot of your bed with his forest green Jansport backpack, ready to complain about the homework he doesn’t want to finish and the tests he has no interest in studying for, just so he can keep you company while you stress yourself to death about the same assignments.

And for as much as he hated school work, Frankie was never late. Never. So to watch him mope into your bedroom an hour later than his usual arrival time, it almost would have been safer to assume he was dead than anything else.

“What took you so long? Get lost on the way here?” You joke, trying to keep it light while still prodding for an answer about his absence as you write down the answer to the math equation you’re trying to solve.

“No. Don’t worry about it.”

There’s been very few occasions you’ve seen Frankie so stoic. Even on his worst days, he’s at least still got a little tolerance left in him for your stupid banter. It’s enough to draw your attention completely away from your homework and onto him.

“What’s wrong? Why are you being so weird?”

You can tell then that something’s clearly not right, the way he’s angrily yanking loose papers and textbooks from his backpack and nearly slamming them onto the edge of your bed, making you gnaw anxiously at the end of your pencil you’d been using.

You’re too nosy for your own good to let up until you find what you’re looking for.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Well obviously something’s wrong.”

“What? I’m not allowed to be late, ever?”

“No? Frankie, I just asked where you were and you’re acting like I’m asking you if you just shot the fucking president or something. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, MacKenzie!”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you so upset about it?”

“I’m not upset!”

“You clearly are? Frankie, what the hell are you-”

“I’m joining the Army, okay?!”

Out of all the things you could have expected to come out of Frankie’s mouth, that would have been at the bottom of your list. In fact, it’s so out of left field, you’re not even quite sure you believe him.

Your forehead hurts from how tightly your brows are knitted together in confusion, scowling at Frankie with a dumbfounded intensity that probably had you looking like you had just gotten an unsuspecting whiff of the world’s most sour lemon.

There’s no way he’s being serious. He can’t be.

“Ha ha, very funny, Francisco.” You mock, frown still splayed across your face, “Now will you please tell me what’s actually going on?”

His silence makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You can feel the way your face falls, the muscles once tensed in adamant skepticism now sinking into a quiet panic. You can hear each breath as it flows in through your nose and out through your mouth, blood pounding louder and louder in your ears with each pulse of your veins.

“Frankie, if this is one of your stupid jokes, it’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke.”

His eyes are still peeled to the floor, too afraid to bring himself to look at you. All he can do is stare at his pinky toe, poking out of the hole in his socks that he refuses to replace. You wait for what feels like hours, days, for him to say something, but his silence is deafening. And the sound of Frankie’s silence is the scariest thing you’ve heard in a very long time.

It’s so terrifying, the only thing you can do to cope is fill the quiet void with your rambling and pray that Frankie Morales is choosing to play the world’s worst joke on you.

“What- what do you mean? Frankie, I thought- When you and Santi talked about doing the same thing as Will- I thought you were fucking kidding? What about college? We already both got accepted to Florida State, what are you gonna do-”

“I didn’t get in.”

Please let him be kidding. Please, please, let this be a sick joke.

You can feel your confusion starting to bubble into anger, jaw clenching at the way Frankie’s too coward to even look in your general direction, gaze still glued to that stupid fucking hole in his worn down sock.

“Frankie, what the fuck? We both got accepted back in January? You’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?”

“I didn’t wanna lie, okay?!”

He’s riddled with enough guilt to speak up, trying to keep himself from the brink of tears as he works up enough courage to finally look you in the face. You can hear how hard he gulps, like his heart is bobbing in his throat, trying to buy all the time he can to come up with a reason for his deception that won’t hurt you any more than he already has.

“I just- fuck,” he sighs, chewing at his bottom and bouncing his leg against the bed so intensely it’ll make him sore the next day, “I didn’t know what to do, Kenz. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

It’s hard to stay mad at him when you know he means it. It’d be easier if it weren’t for the way his brown eyes flooded with disappointment in himself, spilling out in tears onto his cheeks. For as frustrated as you are, you have enough sympathy to ease up on him enough to at least try to understand.

“Well, not lying to me about it for the last four months probably would have been a good start.” You huff, the air that puffs from your nostrils still tainted with the let down you’re trying so hard to not let override your conversation.

You can’t help but let yourself find a spot next to him on the edge of your bed, a peace offering that you hope is enough to signal to him you’re willing to listen to what he has to say.

“I- I didn’t think you were being serious when you and Santi were talking about it. I- I thought you- I thought the plan was to go to Florida State. Together. What happened, Frankie?”

It’s quiet for a few more moments. Frankie takes a few, slow deep breaths as he runs his hands through the curls twisting at the nape of his neck. The silence isn’t as bitter as before, but it stings enough to gnaw at the edges of your nails, the anxious habit you can’t seem to break, and certainly have no intention of giving up right now.

“Stop chewing at your nails, Kenz. You’re gonna be pissed at yourself later.” Frankie sighs, gently grabbing your wrist to pull your hand away from your mouth, trying to fulfill his duty of being the one to stop you from ripping your nail beds to shreds.

“You’re kinda making it hard not to.” You try your best to attempt a laugh. It’s the only way to keep yourself from crying. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or what?”

“Y-yeah.” Frankie re-adjusts himself on the edge of the bed, twisting the fabric of your comforter between his fingers, trying to ground himself in the reality of the truth he’s forced to tell you, “I- I didn’t get into Florida State. I told you I did because I didn’t know what I was gonna do. You were just so excited when you thought we both got in and I- I panicked and I lied. I didn’t even think I was gonna get in anyways. I didn’t think I was gonna get in anywhere. Even if I did, I don’t know if I even could have afforded it. It’s just me and my mom and neither of us-”

“It’s not too late. I can help you look for scholarships. To help you with tuition. I’m sure that there’s a bunch out there that you could apply for. I’ll even write your essays and stuff for you if you want me to-”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t do that, Kenz. Plus, you hate cheaters.”

Frankie tries to reciprocate the same half-assed laugh you gave him. He looks over at you, the small smile he’s forcing to keep between his lips quickly fading as he sees the way you’re pleading with him to realize that you would forge a thousand essays in his name if it meant he wasn’t going to leave you. He’d be a cheater you’d gladly forgive.

“It’s not even just the money. I just- I- I don’t even like school, Kenzie. I suck at it. If school is already hard now, how much harder is it gonna be when I get to college? To study for a job that I’m probably not even gonna want when I graduate? At least with the Army I can have a job and benefits and hopefully make enough money to help my mom so she’s not working at the hospital 6 days a week. MacKenzie, the only reason I applied to Florida State was because of you. I thought that maybe there would be some miracle I got in and I could figure out how to pay for it and I could magically get smarter and better at school so we could spend the next four years together. I wanted it to happen. I wanted it to happen so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you. I just- fuck- I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Neither of you are quite sure what to say next. That quiet comes back to fill the space between you, allowing enough room for the silent sobs you’re both trying your best to hold in, small sniffles still escaping from each of you. You’re not sure if your brain has fully processed what he’s had to say. The only thing you can understand is the swirling of sadness and confusion in your gut and the pounding ache in your chest.

You take a scooch closer to him, the outsides of your thighs barely brushing together as you tilt your head to rest against his shoulder. It’s heavy, the weight you can’t help but lean against him, but the arm he wraps behind your back and around your waist tells you that he’ll gladly take it. He’ll take it all, if he has to.

“Did you already sign a contract to go?” The whisper of your words is so soft, like you’re hoping he can’t hear you. If he can’t hear you, then he doesn’t have to tell you the answer you don’t want to hear.

“Yeah. Me and Santi did a few weeks ago.” His voice is almost quieter than yours, convinced he has the same idea as you.

His truth stings worse than the lie he’s been masquerading behind the past four months. You want to scream at him- To curse him with shouts and sobs, question how he could make this choice for himself and leave you in the dark until it’s too late for you to change his mind. You know it’s selfish, the way you want him to stay, the way you would have fought with every bone in your body to keep him from leaving. You know it’s the reason Frankie couldn’t tell you.

It’s the same reason why Frankie couldn’t bring himself to tell you that if he had given you that chance, he probably would have stayed.

“Do um- do you know when you have to leave?”

It hurts to hear the words come out of your mouth. It’s an admittance of defeat. Because once you ask that question, there’s nothing you can do or say that will make him stay. No fighting, no begging, no pleading. You have to accept he’s leaving.

“Not ‘til the end of the summer.”

“Where?”

The more you ask, the more it makes you want to keel over the edge of the bed and vomit, the reality of it all setting in at an alarming pace.

“Missouri for basic training. I don’t know where after.”

He doesn’t have to say where. You both know. Even if he doesn’t know the exact longitude and latitude of where the Army will deploy him, there’s nowhere else they’re sending him besides Iraq or Afghanistan or whatever godforsaken, war ridden country in the Middle East he’ll be forced to put his life on the line for.

And for how much the reality of Frankie leaving scares you, when you’re hit with the reality that Frankie may leave and never come back, you’re absolutely terrified.

“I don’t want you to go, Frankie.”

You can’t beg him to stay. There’s no amount of bargaining you can do with him or the powers that be to change what’s been done. All you can do is tell him your truth as you sob into his chest while he holds you. Maybe if you’re not enough to make him stay, you’re at least enough to make him want to come home.

You’re not sure how long he holds you while you cry. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours. However long it is, all the moments you have left with Frankie feel that much more precious. You won’t let any of them slip through your fingers.

“You promise you’ll come home, right?”

“I promise, MacKenzie. I promise.”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Francisco Morales, it’s that he’ll never break a promise. You just hope the universe is kind enough to let him keep this one, too.

“I promise that we’ll have a really fun summer together before I leave too, okay? Whatever you wanna do, Kenz, I’ll do it.”

“Anything?”

It’s enough to peek your head out from the crook of his neck, trying your best to wipe away your tears with your sleeve, like you hadn’t just stained the better part of Frankie’s sweatshirt with the same wetness.

“Anything.”

“Alright, well, I guess we’re gonna go to Dairy Queen and get an extra large blizzard every day until you’re too fat for the Army to want you anymore.”

The two of you giggle, a quiet symphony of soft snorts and sobs at the idea of rolling an ice cream filled Frankie off to boot camp. It makes him laugh even harder that he wouldn’t put it past you if you really did try. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you did.

“Whatever you want, MacKenzie. I’m all yours.”

Frankie, Present

Frankie’s convinced he might as well start training for a marathon at this point.

He’s not really sure how else to spend his time. It’s hard to keep himself occupied when all he can do at home is sit around and wait for your dad to die or stare out the window like a creep to watch your comings and goings.

At least if he’s running, he can’t think about you.

Well, he can’t think about you as much.

It’s been a day and a half since he decided to follow you on your run. He’s already pushed his luck enough that you didn’t damn near kill him for it, let alone that you even gave him a chance to talk to him.

He let you take the first shift on the morning yesterday, despite the fact he’d been awake well before the sun rose. The irony wasn’t lost on him at the way he watched you through his bedroom window the same way he did most Saturday and Sunday mornings for the first few years of your friendship. You’d be up at the same ungodly hour as him, except you’d be pacing up and down your driveway, stretching and lunging across its length as you clicked around on the iPod wrapped around your forearm, searching for whatever song would pump you up for your run.

It wasn’t until you had finally noticed Frankie peering out his bedroom window every weekend that you began to drag him along on your runs with you.

“If you’re awake too, you might as well come running with me, Morales. It’ll be fun!”

“Fine. I gotta warn you though, Kenz, I am actually pretty fast.”

“You barely run the mile in gym class.”

“Savin’ up all my energy for when I need it most, Anderson.”

There was once a time where you would have to beg Frankie to come with you on a run. Now, he’d give anything for you to tolerate his existence ten feet behind you.

But he’ll sacrifice another run alone through all too familiar roads of his childhood subdivision if it helps him kill time and keeps you from hating him anymore than you rightfully deserve to.

Yesterday, he went on two runs to pass the time. Hell, today, he’d consider adding a third run to his underwhelming schedule just to keep himself busy. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, he can’t tell yet) for him, Maria Morales has other plans.

And when Maria Morales has plans, it’s in Frankie’s best interest to drop anything else he had in mind for the day.

Even when it means he’s got a hot date with his basement and a mountain full of boxes in his basement.

“Okay, anything in this pile to the left is for you to go through.” His mom grunts, lifting up one last box to add to the heap labeled “Francisco’s things” in her perfectly curved cursive, “If you want to take it home, find an empty box to put it in, but not my new clear, plastic bins, entiendes (understand)? Those were expensive.”

“No clear plastic bins, got it.” Frankie chuckles, following the exaggerated step his mother takes over his scattered belongings.

“If you see something and you don’t want it now but you want me to keep it for later, you can put it over on the shelf by the stairs. If you think it’s basura (trash), leave it over here and let me look at it first before you throw it away.”

“Comprendido (got it).” Frankie nods, sizing up the stack his mom has set out for him, “Jesus ma, this is gonna take me all morning to go through.”

“If you were home more, there would be less things to go through now.”

“Yeah, well, you got me there.” Frankie grumbles under his breath, grimacing at the harsh reality of his mom’s words. He knows isn’t meant completely out of malice, but he can’t deny it’s certainly got some truth to it as well.

“Okay, well I need to go run some errands, and I want this pile sorted by the end of the day, so standing here and moping certainly isn’t going to help that. Get to work, mijo (son).”

His mom will never be one to throw a pity party for anyone, and most definitely won’t be throwing one for her son, based on his own, self-inflicted problem. Frankie helps her step over another makeshift pile scattered for sorting across the basement floor, giving him a quick pat on the back before disappearing upstairs, leaving him to quite literally unpack his past.

“Fuck. Okay.” He sighs to himself, gently kicking one of the edges of flimsy cardboard at the bottom of the tower, trying to formulate his best plan of attack to make his sorting as painless as possible.

He’s thankful that his brain has always worked in a way that allows him to analyze things so quickly, doing some quiet calculations in his head as to the most effective and efficient way to sort through god knows what may be hidden in the pile his mom has created for him.

He runs his hand through the still messy curls of his morning bed head before selecting what feels like the lightest boxes and moving them off to the side, opening up a cardboard container from the next layer.

Besides the trophies still in his room, every prize he’d ever won for every sport he’d ever played sits in the box below him. Frankie chuckles to himself, picking up some from the top to examine them, thumb gliding over the fake gold plating to read plaques like “Florida Junior Divisional Freestyle Swimming Finalist- 2005” or “Regional Championship Winners- Florida Firebirds 2007” glued to poorly sculpted plastic statues of swimmers. A few more medals and certificates had sunk to the bottom of the box, Frankie quickly grazing through its contents before rehoming it to the “trash” pile, unsure of when he would ever need proof he won several swimming competitions in high school.

The next few boxes were more of the same- His varsity jacket, old t-shirts he wouldn’t stand a chance fitting into, considering the gangly figure that stretched them more than a decade ago, some old books from high school he’d only kept because of how much you loved them and he promised you that one day, he’d read them, too.

It’s the shoe box that catches his eye next, sure that no matter how much his mom loved to hoard, whatever was in there most definitely was not a raggedy, holy pair of Converse from high school.

It’s not until he picks up the box that he knows exactly what’s inside. It’s one of the lightest things he’s picked up in the last hour, but when he knows the weight of its contents, his arms want to tremble.

It’s with a long deep breath that he brings the shoebox over to an open patch of floor, letting out a grunt and cursing his knees as he sits down cross legged with the box in front of him. He gently flips open the lid, hand running over his face and down the back of his neck when his suspicions are confirmed.

Open envelopes spill out over the edges of the worn cardboard, the box stuffed to the brim with every letter you’d ever written to him while he was away.

Even if he wanted to, he’s not sure he could ever physically bring himself to throw them out. Those letters have more miles on them than most people’s cars will ever reach in a lifetime, flimsy, stamped pieces of paper following him to every corner of the globe he’s traveled to.

Some letters he’s read so much, they’re worn on the edges where he’s held the paper, smudging the pen that’s reached the sides of the pages. Others, he’s only read once. He’s not sure he could ever bring himself to read them again. But regardless of their contents, he’d made a promise to you they’d stay with him.

“Better not get rid of those letters, Morales. Do you know how many hand cramps I’ve given myself trying to find the words to send halfway across the world to you? You better promise me you’ll keep ‘em.”

His commitment to the folded pieces of paper ring in his ears as his fingers drag across the tops of the open envelopes. He can’t help the way his index finger and thumb pinch the paper below his grasp, carefully tugging a random letter out of its shoebox storage.

It’s a gut wrenching gamble, the game he’s about to play, a roulette of making his heart ache from joy or pain depending on the one he chooses to pull. He’s already placed his bet as he pulls the lined piece of paper out of the envelope- He’s not getting the money he’s already placed on the table back, so he might as well pray he makes a return on his investment.

With one more deep breath, he unfolds the tri-fold creases, ready to watch his bet play out before him.

August 18th, 2006

Frankie,

I hope I sent this letter to the right place! I looked on the website and it said to send mail to new recruits (that’s you, Morales), to this address, so no one better be holding my letter to you hostage.

Anyways, how’s training so far? Did they make you shave your head yet? I hope not. I’m not sure why the Army insists on making you all look like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. I’m sure you’ll still look cute even with short hair! I don’t think I can say the same for Santi, but you didn’t hear that from me… hehehe

I just moved into my dorm yesterday! My roommate seems pretty nice. Her name is Jessica and she’s from Georgia. She claims that she’s neat and she better be, or I may lose my mind. I’ll send you pictures of my dorm once it’s all set up! It’s kind of a mess right now, but I made sure to put the picture of us from prom up on my desk :)

I don’t start class until next Tuesday. Hopefully I’ll meet some new people in my dorm or on the soccer team so I’m not a total loser with no friends. LOL.

Have you met anyone new yet? I can’t wait to hear all about your new Army friends! I already started a countdown calendar until we can see each other again. Only 70 days until basic training is done and I can hear about everything in person!

I miss you a lot. I know that’s dumb to say because it’s only been a week, but still. I wish I would have kissed you again before you got on the plane to leave. I promise I will when I see you. Nothing says perfect place to kiss like South Missouri, romance capital of the USA (haha).

I know you’re gonna be busy, but write me back when you have time. The return address on the envelope is my dorm address, so use that, or risk Doug and Michelle reading your mail if you send it to my house!!! I can’t wait to hear from you. Miss you, weirdo.

From,

Kenz :) <3

His luck of the draw sends a wave of relief through him, smiling down at the curvy loops of your perfectly neat printing signed at the bottom of the page. It makes his heart skip a beat, the same kind of butterflies coming to life in his stomach as they did the first time he read it. He’s earned his money back and then some. He gets how casinos never go broke, because the high of good fortune is enough to have him reaching back into the box to put another gamble on the line.

October 13th, 2009

Frankie,

I always feel dumb sending multiple letters before I hear back from you, but you know me, I love to worry. I know you can’t tell me where you are right now (stupid military and their secrets for the safety of society lol) but I’ve been seeing stuff on the news and it makes me scared for you. I just hope wherever you are, you’re safe.

My dad’s cancer is back. He’s been in the hospital for almost two weeks now. They found a new mass on his liver, but they said hopefully they can target it with radiation before it starts to spread. Cassandra at the front desk asked how you were when I was at the hospital yesterday. I said that you were good. I think she’s only asking because if you’re not there, there’s no one to keep me from burning a hole in the waiting room carpet.

I wish you were here. I feel really lost right now. I just know if you were here, you’d find a way to make everything better. You always do.

Sorry this letter isn’t longer. I haven’t been sleeping that great and don’t have enough brainpower to write something decent. Just wanted to let you know what’s going on.

Counting down the days until you make good on your promise. I hope you come home soon, Frankie.

Kenzie

He curses himself for an unlucky draw, heart sinking at the tear stains smearing the blue ink of your trembling letters. An overwhelming wave of guilt washes over him, vivid memories of reading your notes in his bunk alone, wishing there was a way he could fly halfway around the world for a night just to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay.

It’s the addictive itch in the back of his brain that makes him decide to pull one more letter from the box, taking one last gamble to see if he can prove the nagging pit in his stomach to quit while he’s ahead, wrong.

February 4th, 2011

Hey,

If you don’t want to write anymore, that’s fine. I was trying to be friendly, but clearly you don’t really care. Just let me know and I’ll stop bombarding you with mail you obviously don’t want. Or I guess you not responding is letting me know. If you want to send anything back you can send it to my parents house. I’m moving into Liam’s house and it’s only 20 minutes away so I can just drive there and pick it up. No need to send you a new address you probably aren’t going to write to, anyways.

I guess I’ll see you when I see you.

MacKenzie

And that’s how Vegas will always stay in business.

Because now Frankie is forced to walk away, all his money stolen from him at the stupid risk he’s decided to take. The one letter he’d give anything not to read again is the one he had to pull.

Heat seethes in his chest- he can’t quite explain why. Because he lost at a rigged game he’d set up for himself? That he still hasn’t quite come to terms with the ugly truth of what he put the both of you through? That he wishes with everything in him, he could go back and change what he’s done?

Or maybe, it’s because now might be the last chance he has to fix what he’s broken, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to live with himself if he can’t.

He leaves the pile in the basement unfinished, shoes barely tied to his feet before he bursts out the door in a sprint.

He's not sure where he's going. He's not even sure how long he's run for. All he knows is the pounding of his feet against the pavement, trying to outrun the stupid decisions of his past.

He tells himself if he runs fast enough, he'll beat them.

If he goes far enough, they'll be forgotten.

If he outraces them, you'll be there waiting for him at the finish line.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

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@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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weepingwillowwonder · 8 hours ago

Text

Gimme another NSFW RadioApple x GN!Reader ❤️💛[MDNI 🔞]

CW: Daddy kink, Dom Luci/Sub Reader, Voyeurism (Alastor), Dirty Talk, Penetration, Luci being a lil rough

---

"Do you think Luci would like being called daddy…?" Lost in thought, the words slip from your lips without restriction.

"I beg your pardon?" Alastor lowers the book in his hands, eyebrows knitting together in confusion as he questions your completely random inquiry. Your eyes widen slightly at his reaction and a wave of embarrassment comes over you from asking so shamelessly.

"You know..." you start, flustered by the need to explain yourself.

"If you mean as a term of endearment from his daughter, I'm sure he would be elated to be referred to as such." He comments uninterestedly, returning back to his book with a flip of a page.

"No, no. I mean calling him daddy as in like daddy…" Alastor raises an eyebrow, indicating he's still listening to you despite him seeming distracted with his book. "Like in bed or something..." Amused, Alastor repeats back what you say in a condescending tone.

"Or something, hm? As I understand it, you're asking if Lucifer would like to be referred to as daddy during intercourse. Is that correct?" You look away and give him a shy nod. "And may I ask what brought about this inquiry?" Your bottom lip pokes out in a pout before you ask accusingly.

"Am I not allowed to just ask a question?" While he doesn't say anything about the sudden change in attitude, you note the quiet hum he gives and the crossing of his legs.

"Maybe you should ask him for yourself." He makes eye contact with you from above his book with a mischievous look. Your lips purse together. There's no way in hell you'd actually-

"Ask who what?" The sound of the voice behind you has you practically jumping out of your skin.

"L-Luci!" You let you a squeak of his name and quickly scramble to sit up, looking in his direction. He gives you a charming smile as he closes the portal behind him. Lucifer quickly approaches you with a gentle hand on your cheek and presses a soft kiss to the other before making his way into the room. Shedding his hat and suit jacket, he catches you watching him undo his bow tie and sticks his tongue out in a playful manor.

"Sooo who are we asking stuff?" He comes to hover next to Alastor, stopping to give him an affectionate squeeze on his shoulder. Alastor responds by silently placing a hand on top of his. Even if only for a moment, you feel a flutter in your chest watching the two subtly show each other affection.

"I believe our darling has something to ask you." The grin on Alastor's face grows sharply as he takes in every bit of your embarrassment.

"Oh? Well what do you have to ask me?" Lucifer moves closer to you on the bed and kneels in front of you with a gentle smile on his face, completely unsuspecting of your less than innocent thoughts.

"I..erm...Well I was wondering what you were off doing today! You were gone for an awfully long time, so uh...what did you do today?" You mentally facepalm yourself, why are you such a bad liar? Alastor scoffs in the background and Lucifer eyes you carefully before responding.

"Hmmm, well I had a few meetings, finished up some paperwork, and you know, other important royal duties." He leans forward and slides both of his hands along the outside of your thighs.

"Ah well! That sounds quite eventful!" You nod, fighting the urge not to look away as you try your best to not seem suspicious. He hums slightly, seemingly looking straight through your facade.

"So what did you really have to ask me?" Your eyes immediately avert as he questions you again.

"I'm not sure what you me-," He stands up to hover over you now, one hand coming to rest on his hip while the other tucks under your chin. He lifts your chin to face him and you sucks in a quiet breath when you catch the playful look in his eyes.

"Oh honey, don't play that game with me." You glance over at Alastor for assistance, but Lucifer's voice and his grip on your chin has your eyes snapping right back to him. Your fingers twitch as you fight the urge to relieve some of the building pressure between your legs. "He can't help you baby~" He purrs as he leans in closer…

~~~

"Mm, f-fuck Luci...!" The whimper leaves your lips in a sputter as he presses further into you, his hips rolling slowly to get deeper inside.

"Mhm...tell me about it baby~" His voice lowers slightly as he playfully mocks your cries, soft pants coming from him as he keeps rolling his hips into you..

You let out an embarrassing groan as he bottoms out and hang your head low, trying your best to take in the overstimulating pleasure he gives you. With your brain foggy with lust, you find enough clarity to remember the reason you were in this particular situation.

"Come on sweetheart, tell me how good you feel," he says, voice dripping with desire before breathlessly chucking to himself. "...or are you already too fucked out to answer?" His teasing words and condescending tone has you crying out for him.

"So good daddy!" His grip tightens noticeably and his hips stutter to a still in their movement.

"W-what did you just say...?" He asks lowly, wide eyes boring in the back of your head before glancing up at Alastor's pleased grin.

"No,no,no, please!" You whine desperately trying to fuck yourself back against him, but he stops you with a firm hold on your hips. Before you realize, you're being pulled back with a hand on your throat, your back now flush against his chest.

"Honey, I asked you a question." You realize quickly the underlying danger hiding behind his tone as he mumbles in your ear. He's not asking you to answer him, he demanding you to.

Making eye contact with Alastor from your position, you lick your lips. With a shaky breath you answer him in the sultriest tone you can muster, "You make me feel so good, daddy...want you to fuck me how you want it." If Alastor wasn't paying attention before, he definitely was now if the ever growing bulge in his pants was anything to go by.

"Y-you shouldn't..." Lucifer sound uncertain, almost strained as he responds.

"But don't you love it when I call you daddy?" Your voice raises in pitch and you reach a hand up behind you to run through his hair. He groans deeply in your ear and the hand on your throat tightens slightly as he leans into your touch.

"... I love it baby..." he whispers, hips picking back up their rhythm, pounding into you at a new angle. "You dirty fuckin' little…S-shit! Always such a tease..." he spits out, earning a sharp gasp from you. Lucifer was never truly rough with you, but if the pace kept going the way it was, who knows where the night would end?

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sanguisxferox · 13 hours ago

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"It's the truth though." At least, with the stranger, 'cause Leto feels like even if he was forced to lay bare in front of the vampire, he'd still feel safe. "Sorry cause that was a bit too much, but guess I've said worse." He admits, but his breath catches in his throat when Levi leans down and when he mentions Leto blushing—a soft red shade comes back to his cheek. The Underboss rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, chuckling. It sounds almost timid. His gaze lifts up again and catches Levi's—he smiles back gently. Has he ever seen someone more beautiful than this man, seriously?! Everything seems to be so organic between them—two birds dancing together without thoughts; just instinct. The next day, he'll question his own sanity, but tonight, the world has stopped for them both and he'll savor every fucking single second of their time together.

Leto feels Levi's gaze on him, but even though he'd done the same earlier, his mind cannot wrap itself around the idea that what Levi is saying could be about him. But he feels the squeeze to his hand as he talks about his father for a moment—a hand he doesn't want to let go of. He doesn't know it yet, but he'll always feel these butterflies in his stomach as they hold hands; even 15 years from now. He's too excited to let the vampire talk and when Levi asks for confirmation a out the seashell, he nods. "Yes. It's not much, but something to remember—" me. Leto doesn't expect the little shell to stay in the other's possession for long, but he likes to humor the idea that it will. Though, tonight would be a time he'd never forget; a moment engraved in his memories forever—the beginning of a great friendship and his first time beside the love of his life. "It's a good place to keep it." He chuckles, not taking the promise seriously.

"Yes, you. Who wouldn't want to know about you?" There's confusion in his own question. There's something so fascinating about the vampire—Leto is actually shocked he managed to get his attention and even more that Levi followed. "Anything you're willing to share, really." Because he'll take in everything the other man sas with a sponge. A frowns appears on his face as he listens; he wants to embrace Levi and apologize at the unfairness of not remembering his own family. Leto had very limited time with his parents, but he'd still take that over not remembering. "Do you miss her? Or like wish you could see her agaon." He asks concerned about Levi's life that sounded so lonely. I promise to say at your side as long as you'll allow it—he silently promises the unaware vampire. "Really?! It sounds fascinating! Which place have you loved the most?" Leto is genuinely fascinating—most of his travels have been work related.

When his hand is grabbed again, he realizes that it had been gone for a moment and it strangely saddens him for a sec. Levi is so gentle and it melts him—that is until he hears Levi call Suresh is grandfather. He knows it has to be an honest mistake, maybe the noise around them had made the vampire hear incorrectly, but it makes Leto bursts out in laughter. It's so pure and joyful; almost boyish. He laughs so much that tears corm at the corner of his eyes. "Godfather. Though, he is ancient!" He takes a deep breath, calming himself. "Thank you for that—I haven't laughed like this in forever!" Levi is really something. Another squeeze comes and this time, he hears the questions, but doesn't respond right away. Instead, he leans up to kiss the vampire again. "It's so easy talking with you. Thank you for being—you!" He murmurs as he breaks the kiss. "When I'm not helping my father manage his businesses, I spend as much time as I can at my animal sanctuary/shelter. Gotta admit that I love animals more than people. Probably cause I'm half werejaguar half shapeshifter. My favorite food? I love beignets and French crêpe with salty butter and maple syrup. And savory, cook me wagyu steak on the grill and I'm a happy man. And not really for that club. What about you? What do you love doing when you settle for a moment in one place?" Leto smiles at Levi, wanting to hear him talk more—he love his voice. "And hat about your favorite food, other than blood, cause that's cheating! And was it your firs time at that club?" He wants to know, cause he'd make a habit of going it that was a regular spot for the vampire. He gazes around for a moment and nods. "As much as I can. It's always peaceful for me. Especially when I'm feeling down and down want company or when I'm lonely." He gazes back up at Levi. "Do you come often in New Orleans?" I want to see you again.

Levi usually had a hard time being captivated by something, let alone someone, but every so often it did occur. It was hardly ever another person, but Leto had him under a spell that Levi never wanted to come out of. It was strange because they had only just met, but that kiss made him feel something he never knew possible. And he wanted to feel it again, and again. The comment about being taken makes Levi lightheartedly laugh, "Cheeky." He liked it. "Why are you sorry? Perhaps I like you being a little cheeky," he leans in a little, "especially if it makes you blush." Blushing was one of those rare things that actually made Levi giddy, even more if he was the root cause behind those flushed cheeks. As the conversation carried on it shocked him how easily it was to joke with the other, as if they have been long time friends long before tonight. Honestly, it just made him want to be around Leto even longer.

He follows on cue with Leto when the other turns and begins to run. It’s been a while since he ran along side someone like this; carefree and at full speed. His gaze flickers between watching their course of movement over to Leto as they ran. If Levi thought the man couldn’t become even more enchanting, watching him become carefree proved that wrong. He wondered what had caused it, what the guy was thinking about, and where they were going. Normally if someone asked him to leave some place and go somewhere more private it was always because they were about to get physical. But, when he was brought to the lake, Levi was surprised that didn't seem to be the case tonight.

It’s really beautiful. And now it was Levi’s turn to look at the other, softly smiling to himself, “Yes, really beautiful.” As Leto speaks, Levi listens attentively to his every word. His gaze traves down to their hands, taking in how perfectly their hands fit in one another, before looking out at the lake. His brows furrow hearing the other mention the death of his father, not even thinking twice about it, his hand gives Leto's a gentle squeeze. But just as he was about to say something the other is pulling him towards the pier, and the vampire easily follows. Levi is curiously glancing up at the pier they were standing under before his attention is drawn back to Leto's words and the seashell in his hand. "For me?" Levi's voice is soft, as is the smile that appears on his face, and he reaches out to gently take the shell in his free hand. No one had ever given him anything before, especially nothing as beautiful as this. He made the choice right there and then that he would keep this seashell forever. He looks up to meet Leto's gaze, still smiling, carefully tucking it in his front shirt pocket, "It'll remain close to my heart in here." Levi didn't know it then, but that seashell would become one of the most important things to him. It would help him in his darkest of times and when he was in a sticky situation that seashell would remind of a reason to find a way out.

"About me?" He probably sounds more confused than anything, but he's just never had anyone like Leto before. Anyone who cared to know about him or tell him the things Leto had told him this evening. "I'm not even sure where to begin." He gives a little shrug, "I was born in France...somewhere. I was in the army, and I know that much. I wish I could tell you about my family before I was bitten, but I don't remember them. I don't even have a picture of them. The woman who bit me was named Reyna and I was intended to be a solider for her. Unfortunately for her, I'm too much of a wild spirit and she couldn't tame it. I haven't seen her for over a hundred something years." He looks back to Leto, smiling, "I enjoy traveling. I love visiting new places, learning their culture, being among new faces, and learning the stories those places have to offer." And it's always a bloodbath because I have no self-control, but he left that part in his head. He takes a step closer to Leto, reaching out to take his hand again, "I'm sorry to hear about your father, Leto. I really am. I can't even begin to imagine what you and your family went through with that. But I'm happy to hear your grandfather was able to give you that love again." He gives another gentle squeeze to Leto's hand, "And don't ever apologize for being excited, love. It's actually very cute. Plus, I'd love to know more about you. What's your favorite thing to do when you have down time? Your favorite type of food? Do you visit that club often?" He gestured around them, " Do you come here often?"

#frx.Leto #LetoH.pastthreads #LetoH.Year2009 #LetoH.Levi1 #LetoH.Tesoro Mio

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ad0rechuu · 2 years ago

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people are like x reader and then give the reader a name other than yn or mc or smth… no?

#that doesn’t mean yn isn’t allowed to have distinctive character tho (personality)#actually anything is allowed really it just confuses me #i don’t get it if u don’t like the name yn there are alternatives #i don’t think i can ever write an oc ESP for kpop but that doesn’t mean u guys shouldn’t it that’s what u want #just make an oc it’s okay #btw this is not targeted to anyone i was just thinking about it #ad0rechuu — rambles 😧#kpop x reader #obey me x reader

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warlordfelwinter · 1 year ago

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yep. that conversation with the exarch still fucks me up.

#it's worse actually #knowing what he has planned #knowing he's dreaming of these adventures with fiver thinking he'll never be able to actually do them #meanwhile fiver is in this sort of confused jumble of happiness after hearing 'the future is where my destiny awaits'#and 'those who roused me from my slumber'#fiver knows. he KNOWS. who's under that hood #and he can't figure out why g'raha wouldn't tell him #which is why he doesn't really say anything i think #he doesn't understand why g'raha would hide from him but also knows this isn't the moment to confront it #just thinking about fiver like gently stopping him from heading back to amity just for a second #just to be like 'i know who you are. and it's ok that you lied to me. but when this is done we're going to talk. about many things. promise #and the exarch having to agree to that talk knowing in his mind he's going to break that promise #fortunately for him the universe won't allow him and fiver to break promises to each other #fel's ffxiv #shadowbringers lb #oc: fiver

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kazs-scheming-face · 2 years ago

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Hate that my body’s response to any phrase directed towards me that could possibly be interpreted as rejection is crying

#personal #vent #like…ik she didn’t mean it in any way my brain just decided to make me cry about it #(I want to bake macarons this week and was talking to my mom about flavor ideas #and when I said what flavor I wanted to make them she pulled a face and was like ‘I don’t think you should do them all that flavor...#…I mean you do whatever you want but that’s just my opinion’#and that’s valid she’s allowed to not like certain flavors but like #telling me to do whatever and then being like ‘but actually no’ just makes me feel guilty for wanting to do something different #and me involuntarily crying about it makes me feel more guilty bc then she feels like she had to comfort me #when she didn’t really do anything wrong #like she could’ve phrased that a lot better but still #idk)#i was having such a good morning I slept good and my joints aren’t too bad today and I was excited about making something but now I’m just #trying to stop crying #rsd why are you such a bitch #wait I just remembered that the last time I brought up making them with that flavor she seemed?? Excited about it?? now I’m just confused

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galadrieljones · 6 days ago

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It speaks volumes when Lavellan calls Solas a "terrible liar" in the Cobbled Swan. Rook is, of course, confused by this. "He's the god of lies," she says. But Lavellan clarifies, because that's not what she means. She means that he can't tell "lies of the heart." That is why he had to turn her away, because he actually could not deceive her.

Varric, very early in the game, also refers to Solas as "sentimental." He says to Rook, "He could burn the world down, and the thing that would make him cry is a single flower with blackened petals."

There's something very interesting about the elven god of lies and deceit, who unwillingly wears his heart on his sleeve, essentially creating a new version of the world in which all sources of raw, magical *emotion* that, according to him, used to imbue it with so much life and beauty have been compartmentalized from the more brutish, harsh aspects of the physical world. Because he, himself, has had to do this very thing to his own heart. He's "split." A very cool archetype. When he tells the Inquisitor to "harden her heart to a cutting edge" in Inquisition, he is projecting. Solas has built a "veil" within himself, to protect his more stern, militaristic identity as The Dread Wolf from the effusive, soft, and intelligent man that is Solas. It's the only way he can get anything done. Perhaps we should more aptly call him the god of stoicism and compartmentalization.

It's also interesting how well characters like Varric seem to know Solas, because it communicates that Solas did open up to the people of the Inquisition, during which time he "played the role" of quiet, unassuming Fade mage. Perhaps this wasn't a role at all, however, and perhaps this is why he is failing so spectacularly now. Who he really is is just this man who fell in love and made friends and found a home within a community where he did not have to cut off his emotions in order to lead. This was the "breach" in his plans, so to speak. It tore his world apart.

The whole story of Veilguard actually starts because Varric knows he can appeal to Solas's emotions and that this has a high chance of working to some degree. It's important to remember that while Varric didn't change Solas's mind at the ritual site, he was able to keep Solas talking long enough for Rook to sabotage his plans. Solas entertains Varric's pleas, because, sort of as Rook guesses with Lavellan at the Cobbled Swan, in some ways, Solas wants to be stopped. He wants someone to pull the reins on him because he is too prideful to stop himself.

Thinking back to Trespasser, I remember we all sort of knew this right away just in reading his body language. I remember someone making a whole post about it, and how he will not allow her to get too close to him. When she approaches, he takes a very measured step back. And later, as he takes the anchor, a task which requires him to take her hand, we see exactly why this is. He breaks down, calls her his "love," and kisses her. He is so stern and so measured and in "control," but then, all it takes is a single touch from the woman to whom he showed a glimpse of his true heart, his true self, to bring him to his knees.

The Veil as a narrative manifestation for how Solas tends to seal his own raw emotions away from others in order to function as the revolutionary general he had to be for centuries is a very beautiful construct to me.

#datv #dragon age: the veilguard #solas #solavellan #datv spoilers #veilguard spoilers

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lostalioth · 1 month ago

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𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡

→ premise: logan was obsessed, he was from the moment he met you. he didn’t get crushes, but you’ve turned the big bad wolverine into a depraved puppy and he’s had enough.

→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

→ warnings: 2k words, smut | 18+, obsession [not dark, just like a big crush, idk how to actually write obsession well], belly bulge, unprotected sex, nicknames [baby, princess, pretty girl], creampie, I visualized like x1-3 logan when writing but you can imagine whichever logan era.

→ a/n: kinktober 09

Logan was utterly obsessed, entranced by your entire being. If he didn’t already know what your mutation was, he'd swear you were a witch that cast a love spell on him so he goes starry eyed and dulcet when you walk in a room. He wasn't the kind of man to get crushes, he did one night stands to satiate his needs and yet now he can't bring himself to want anybody but you.

You and your pretty eyes that sparkle when you look at him and flutter your eyelashes to get what you want. You and your tendency to brush against him or run your hand down his arm when you walk around him making his brain go fuzzy and getting him all flustered. The whole team could see how smitten and enthralled he was with you, mocking him and calling him a love sick puppy especially when you go away on mission and he mopes around the mansion. He’s had enough of the little flirting back and forth and nothing coming of it, he was desperate for you and his crush was only getting stronger as the months went on.

You had just gotten back from a short mission with Storm and Jean when before you could even say hi to everybody Logan is grabbing your hand and pulling you away down the hall. “eh- hey! Lo slow down” you squeal out as he drags you along behind him, heart racing at the feeling of his fingers intertwined with your own. The nickname you've resorted to calling him as the two of you have gotten closer makes his ears ring. He loved when you called him Lo you were the only one allowed to, anybody else who tired got glared at.

“Need to talk to ya’ now, right now” he grumbled out, his signature, you swore permanent grumpy scowl plastered on his face. He continues to tug you down the long hall towards your bedroom. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion at where he's taking you. Pushing open your door, he turns around and yanks you inside. Shutting the door, his body now facing you. His grip on your hand is still tight, he didnt wanna let go especially not when you haven't said anything about the fact he’s practically holding your hand.

“What is it? Is everything okay Lo?” You question in that sweet concerned voice you give him when he tells you he didn't sleep well because of another nightmare. “Do you want me?” He blurts out so fast the words practically blend together. You think you hear his question and it makes your head spin in more confusion but you needed him to repeat it. “What’d you say” you question as your gaze stays fixed on Logan, his own glued to your face watching for reactions. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves he starts again “Do you want me?” He questions in a slower softer tone.

Now your head really was spinning and slick settled in your core at his wording, he wasn't asking if you liked him, no he was asking if you WANTED him. your eyes that were on him are now darting around the room like it's the most fascinating thing. Through the fogginess of your brain all you can manage to eat out is a “What..?”

Pushing forward Logan backs your body up against your shut bedroom door, his frame looming over you and blocking you in. The hand that is not entangled with yours comes up to your chin to grab it and make you look at him. “Do. You. Want. Me? I'm not repeatin’ myself again pretty girl” he growls out, punching out each word of his question. He was losing his patience especially after the sweet scent of your arousal fills his nostrils and makes his cock twitch. “Cause i want you princess, have wanted you for fuckin’ months. And it's killing me, you’re killin’ me pretty girl” he groans out in frustration.

“Do you even know what you do to me? What my crush on you is doin’ to me princess? All our flirting and lingering looks, everybody always mocking me for how I act round you” he continues to ramble on, pulling your face closer to his as he waits on an answer to at least one of his questions.

“Yes..i want you Lo” you mumble out breathlessly and low. A big lopsided smirk spreads on Logan’s face as your words register in his head. “What was that baby?” He teases, needing you to repeat it just so he can hear it again.

“I want you Logan, really fucking bad” you whine out as your core aches for attention, your hips gravitate towards his to push against him. “Shit- fuck it” he groans out and grabs ahold of your waist and crashes his lips agaisnt yours, he knew the two of you should’ve gone back to the team. You needed to give Charles a debrief of the mission but Logan could care less at the moment. You kiss him with the same amount of passion and fever as your arms wrap around his neck pressing your chest to his. You hum and moan into the kiss sending vibrations through Logan’s body and straight to his confined cock that was begging to be released. “Jump and wrap ya’ legs around me baby” he instructed, his words mumbled against your lips but clear enough for you to understand. Jumping up a bit, Logan catches you by grabbing onto your ass as your legs wrapped around his waist. “Atta girl princess” you smile against his lips at the praise while he walks the two of you over to your plush bed.

Laying you down on your back, he keeps his body between your spread thighs as his mouth pulls away from yours and drifts down to kiss at your neck. His hard cock pressed right up against your leaking cunt in this position, his large hands rubbing and groping all over your body. Running over your hips and waist, palming over your tits and grabbing at your ass, anywhere his hands can reach, indulging in the fact you're allowing him to touch you like this. “Mhmm Lo, baby please i need you” you whine out and buck your hips against his, grinding your core against his bulge. “Yeah? Whatcha need baby? Huh princess? Use your words” he doesnt pull away from your neck, continuously kissing it and along your collarbones and chest as you were wearing a low cut top, even sucking and biting at your skin to form hickeys.

”Need you, need you to fuck me Lo please” you whimper out and tug at the wasit band of his jeans as well as push up at his white tank top. “Yeah i can do that baby fuck” he grunts out and sucks in a breath, a shiver going down his back when you strach at his lower stomach and happy trail. The feeling of your hands on his bare skin makes his body tingle and skin feel on fire.

His movements are frantic as he is quick to strip off his shirt and yours. Pulling your pants down and off your legs alongside your panties, leaving your bare pussy exposed to the cool air. “Oh fuck~ shes so pretty” he mumbled out under his breath seemingly to himself, you werent sure if it was aimed at your cunt or you. in his haste he just barely pushes his jeans and boxers down enough to free his cock. His throbbing cock springs free, making you gasp at his size, he didn't feel nearly as big when it was hidden as he looks now. His cock long and so deliciously thick that it has your mouth watering wanting a taste. You knew your jaw would burn to accommodate his size; you couldn't imagine your cunt fitting him. “Lo i don't know if it’ll fit” you whine out, looking into his lust blown eyes with concern.

“Pretty girl if you’re as wet as ya’ smell i’ll slip right in” he chuckles softly, grabbing himself at the base and nudging his mushroom tip to open your slit and rub it through your soaked folds. Your slick collects and mixes with the precum leaking from his cock lubing up his shaft and tip. Your hole clenches around nothing everytime he brushes over it making your hips twitch and thrust up trying to get him to push inside already.

“Mmm Lo..please just fuck me already” you whine out and squirm. His brows furrowed in concentration, gaze locked on where your bodies meet, trying his hardest not to already blow his load as he lines his tip up at your entrance. Just rubbing over your pussy with his cock was causing his balls to tighten, your pussy felt heavenly and addicting. This moment was 10 times better than any of the hundreds of wet dreams he had late at night where he’d wake up with a wet spot forming in his sweats.

He lets out a broken gasp that morphs into a string of curses when he finally slowly pushes into the wet heat of your cunt. “Oh fuck~ shes already squeezin’ me so tight baby” he grunts as he finally bottoms out buried to the hilt, his hips wasting no time in finding a rymth and thrusting deep inside you. the sting of your pussy stretching to take his cock makes your head go hazy, eyes screwing shut in bliss.

You clench around him and Logan cant stop himself from thrusting harder and faster, a slurred pussy-drunk mess of sentences fall from his mouth.

“Fuck youre so hot princess, s’good for me” “Cant believe ya’ letting me do this to you, fuckin’ you like this” “Dreamt’ bout’ this for so long, been fuckin’ obsessed with ya’ for forever” he whines out in a long run on setenace as his hips slam against yours, the filthy squelching sound of your cunt and your moans and whimpers fill the air in your room. You didn't care that you were being loud enough that anyone who walked past your door would definitely hear you and know what was going on. the knowledge of that seemed to be spurring both you and Logan on more.

His eyes are locked at where your bodies are connected, his cock creating a bulge in your lower stomach every time he thrusts all the way in. “Fuck baby, look at that, my cock s’big its making a bulge when im buried inside” he groans out and presses down on your lower stomach making your cunt clench down harder on him, your body trying to milk his release out of him. Tipping your head down you open your eyes to watch as his cock thrusts in and out of your throbbing pussy, his tip driving right into that spot deep inside you making you see stars. That spongy spot that your toys could never reach just right when Logan would get you all worked up with his flirting, not like his cock currently is.

“M’gonna cum Lo- baby, Fuck- mhm~ wanna cum with you please” you moan out, your sentence coming out broken up as your climax was teetering on the edge. “Im gonna cum too baby don’t worry pretty girl” he hissed out as his fingers dig into your hips, his own flattering in there thrusting as his cock twitches inside you. “Cum on my cock princess, gonna fill this pretty up makin’ it all mine-” you cut off his sentence by grabbing ahold of the back of his neck, pulling his face down to kiss him desperately.

“Already all yours Lo, i been yours the whole time” you whine against his lips as your high washes over you, cumming on his cock as his thrusts speed up one last time.

Your cream coating his cock acts to further lube up his thick cock as it jackhammers into you, before your cunt milks Logan’s cum out of him in thick ropes that fill you. “Ya’ 100 percent all mine now baby” he hums into your mouth, lazily kissing you while he catches his breath, your hips grinding on his cock as you both ride out your highs.

→ a/n: fully meant to post this yesterday but i barely had anything written for it then and couldnt bring myself to write more. Im doing better than I’ve done the past 3 years with kinktober tho, gotten further than any other times.

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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

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Hall Pass

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Carlos Sainz x ex!Reader

Summary: Carlos’ desire to fantasize about other women leads you straight into his teammate’s arms (or in which your boyfriend chooses a famous actress as his hall pass while you decide on someone much closer to home)

The hotel suite is bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the plush carpet. You sit on the edge of the king-sized bed, your fingers idly tracing the intricate patterns on the duvet cover. Across the room, Carlos leans against the ornate writing desk, his arms crossed over his chest and a pensive look on his face.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice low and measured. “We need to talk.”

You look up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What’s on your mind?”

He shifts his weight, uncrossing his arms and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been thinking ... about us. About our relationship.”

Your heart skips a beat, a knot forming in your stomach. “Oh? And what have you been thinking?”

Carlos takes a deep breath, his eyes darting around the room before settling back on you. “I love you, Y/N. I do. But ... I can’t help feeling like we’re stuck in a rut.”

You furrow your brow, confusion and hurt mingling in your chest. “A rut? What do you mean?”

“It’s just ...” He pauses, searching for the right words. “We’ve been together for so long, and it’s been great. But don’t you ever wonder what else is out there?”

You stand up, taking a step towards him. “Carlos, are you saying you want to break up?”

He holds up his hands, shaking his head quickly. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all. I just ... I had an idea.”

“An idea?” You repeat, your voice laced with skepticism.

Carlos nods, a hint of excitement creeping into his tone. “What if we each got a hall pass?”

You blink, taken aback. “A hall pass? Like ... permission to sleep with someone else?”

“Exactly,” he says, snapping his fingers. “But not just anyone. We each choose one person, and if we ever happen to meet them and the opportunity arises, we’re allowed to go for it. No hard feelings, no guilt.”

You stare at him, trying to process his words. “Let me get this straight. You want us to choose people we can cheat on each other with, guilt-free?”

Carlos winces at your phrasing. “It’s not cheating if we both agree to it. Think of it as ... spicing things up. Adding a little excitement to our relationship.”

You cross your arms, mirroring his earlier stance. “And you think this will solve our supposed ‘rut’?”

He shrugs, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “It could be fun. Just imagine the thrill of knowing we both have this secret possibility out there.”

You shake your head, disbelief coloring your voice. “I can’t believe you’re seriously suggesting this.”

“Come on, mi amor,” Carlos coaxes, taking a step towards you. “It’s not like anything will actually happen. We’ll probably never even meet the people we choose.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Then what’s the point?”

“The point is the fantasy, the excitement,” he explains, his eyes lighting up. “It’s like ... buying a lottery ticket. You know you probably won’t win, but the possibility is thrilling.”

You chew on your lower lip, considering his words. Part of you wants to shut down this ridiculous idea immediately, but another part is intrigued by the challenge. “And you really think this will help our relationship?”

Carlos nods eagerly. “I do. It’ll add a spark, keep things interesting.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”

“So ... is that a yes?” Carlos asks, hope evident in his voice.

After a long moment, you nod slowly. “Fine. But we set some ground rules first.”

Carlos grins, clapping his hands together. “Of course! Whatever you want.”

You hold up a finger. “Rule number one: we tell each other who we choose. No secrets.”

“Agreed,” Carlos says quickly.

“Rule number two: if anything ever does happen, we tell each other immediately.”

Carlos nods. “Absolutely. Honesty is key.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay. So ... who’s your choice?”

Carlos’ grin widens. “Margot Robbie.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Seriously? Margot Robbie?”

He shrugs, looking pleased with himself. “What? She’s gorgeous, talented, and there’s practically zero chance I’ll ever meet her, let alone have the opportunity to sleep with her.”

You shake your head, amused despite yourself. “Well, at least you’re being realistic about your chances.”

Carlos chuckles. “Exactly. It’s the perfect choice. Exciting, but safe.” He leans forward, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “What about you? Who’s your hall pass going to be?”

You pause, pretending to consider your options carefully. In truth, you’ve already made your decision, a plan forming in your mind. “Well,” you say slowly, “I think I’ll choose ... Charles.”

Carlos’ brow furrows in confusion. “Charles? What Charles?”

You allow a small smirk to play across your lips. “Charles Leclerc.”

The color drains from Carlos’ face as realization dawns. “Charles ... Leclerc? My teammate, Charles Leclerc?”

You nod, feigning innocence. “That’s the one.”

Carlos sputters, his earlier confidence evaporating. “But-but you can’t choose him!”

“Why not?” You ask, your voice sweet. “He fits all the criteria. He’s attractive, talented, and exciting.”

“But he’s my teammate!” Carlos exclaims, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “You see him all the time!”

You shrug, echoing his earlier nonchalance. “So? You’re the one who wanted to add some excitement to our relationship.”

Carlos paces back and forth, his earlier enthusiasm replaced by panic. “This isn’t what I meant! I chose someone I’ll never meet. You chose someone you could literally bump into tomorrow!”

“Carlos,” you say, your voice taking on a patronizing tone, “are you saying you don’t trust me?”

He stops pacing, turning to face you with wide eyes. “Of course I trust you. It’s just ... it’s Charles!”

You take a step towards him, your expression hardening. “Let me ask you something. Did you really think this through when you suggested it? Or were you just hoping for a free pass to fantasize about other women without feeling guilty?”

Carlos opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find a response. “I ... that’s not ... I didn’t mean ...”

You cut him off, your voice sharp. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you thought you could have your cake and eat it too. You’d get to keep me while indulging in your little fantasies about Margot Robbie or whoever else catches your eye.”

“Mi amor, please,” Carlos pleads, reaching for your hand. “That’s not what this was about at all.”

You pull away from his grasp, shaking your head. “No? Then what was it about? Because it sure as hell wasn’t about improving our relationship.”

He runs his hands over his face, frustration evident in every line of his body. “I just ... I thought it would be fun. A little harmless fantasy to spice things up.”

“Well, congratulations,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve certainly spiced things up now.”

Carlos looks at you, desperation in his eyes. “Can we just ... can we forget this whole thing? Pretend I never suggested it?”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Oh no, Carlos. You don’t get to backtrack now. You wanted a hall pass? You’ve got one.”

“Please,” he begs, reaching for you again. “I was being stupid. I don’t want this.”

You step back, avoiding his touch. “Too late. What was it you said? No hard feelings, no guilt?”

Carlos’ face crumples. “I didn’t think ... I never imagined you’d choose someone like Charles.”

“Maybe you should have,” you snap. “Maybe you should have considered how I’d feel about you wanting permission to sleep with other women.”

He hangs his head, shame written across his features. “I’m sorry. I really am. Can we please just talk about this?”

You shake your head, moving towards the door of the suite. “I think we’ve talked enough for one night.”

Carlos’ head snaps up, panic flashing in his eyes. “Where are you going?”

You grab your purse from the nearby chair, slinging it over your shoulder. “Out. I need some air.”

“Y/N, wait!” Carlos calls, his voice rising in desperation. “You can’t ... you’re not going to ...”

You turn back to face him, your hand on the doorknob. “Going to what, Carlos? Use my hall pass? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No! I mean, yes, but not like this. Not with Charles!”

“Why not?” You challenge. “He’s attractive, available, and conveniently located just down the hall. Isn’t that exciting?”

Carlos’ face contorts with a mixture of anger and fear. “You wouldn’t. You’re just trying to teach me a lesson.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Am I? Are you willing to bet on that?”

He takes a step towards you, his voice pleading. “Mi amor, please. I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”

You open the door, pausing in the threshold. “You know, Carlos, you were right about one thing. This definitely isn’t boring anymore.”

As you step into the hallway, you hear Carlos’ voice rising behind you. “Y/N! Come back! We need to talk about this!”

You let the door swing shut behind you, cutting off his desperate pleas. As you walk down the corridor, your heels clicking against the polished floor, a small smile plays across your lips.

You have no intention of actually going to Charles’ room, of course. But Carlos doesn’t need to know that. Let him stew in his own jealousy and insecurity for a while. Maybe next time he’ll think twice before suggesting something so foolish.

As you reach the elevator, you can still hear Carlos’ muffled shouts echoing from your suite. You press the button for the lobby, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Part of you feels guilty for causing him such distress, but a larger part feels justified in your actions. He needed to understand the consequences of his thoughtless suggestion.

As the elevator doors slide closed, you let out a long breath. It’s going to be a long night, but perhaps this will be the wake-up call your relationship needed. Not in the way Carlos had intended, but in a way that forces you both to confront the real issues lurking beneath the surface.

The elevator begins its descent, carrying you away from the drama upstairs and towards an uncertain future. One thing’s for sure — your relationship will never be the same after tonight. Whether that’s for better or worse remains to be seen.

***

The hotel bar is a sanctuary of soft lighting and hushed conversations. You sit perched on a high stool, nursing a glass of red wine and trying to quiet the storm of emotions raging inside you. The bartender, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, keeps glancing your way, clearly sensing your distress but respectfully maintaining his distance.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice the figure approaching until he speaks.

“Y/N? Is everything alright?”

You look up, startled, to find Charles Leclerc standing beside you, concern etched across his handsome features. For a moment, you’re struck by the irony of the situation.

“Charles,” you manage, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, just ... needed some air.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your act. “At the bar? Must be some very alcoholic air.”

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh. “Caught me. Mind if I buy you a drink to keep my secret?”

Charles slides onto the stool next to you, a warm smile playing across his lips. “Only if you let me buy the next round and tell me what’s really going on.”

You hesitate, swirling the wine in your glass. “It’s ... complicated.”

“I’ve got time,” Charles says softly, signaling the bartender. “And I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

As the bartender sets a Moscow Mule in front of Charles, you take a deep breath. “Carlos and I had a fight.”

Charles nods, his expression neutral. “I see. Do you want to talk about it?”

You laugh bitterly. “Oh, you’re going to love this. He suggested we each get a hall pass.”

Charles’ brow furrows in confusion. “A hall pass? Like in school?”

“No,” you explain, taking a sip of your wine. “A relationship hall pass. Permission to sleep with one chosen person if the opportunity ever arose.”

Charles’ eyes widen in surprise. “He suggested that? Really?”

You nod, feeling a fresh wave of anger wash over you. “He thought it would ‘spice things up’. Add some excitement to our relationship.”

“And how did you feel about that?” Charles asks carefully, studying your face.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Honestly? I felt ... hurt. Betrayed. Like I wasn’t enough for him anymore.”

Charles reaches out, hesitating for a moment before gently placing his hand over yours. “Y/N, you’re more than enough. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

You look up, meeting his intense gaze. “Thank you. That ... means a lot.”

He squeezes your hand before pulling away, taking a sip of his drink. “So, what happened next?”

You feel a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Well, I agreed.”

Charles nearly chokes on his drink. “You did?”

You nod, unable to suppress a small chuckle at his reaction. “I did. But not for the reasons Carlos wanted.”

“Oh?” Charles leans in, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Do tell.”

“Well,” you say, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “Carlos chose Margot Robbie as his hall pass.”

Charles snorts. “Of course he did.”

“Exactly,” you agree. “So when it was my turn to choose ... I picked you.”

For a moment, Charles is speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he manages to sputter, “Me? You chose me?”

You nod, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “I did. You should have seen Carlos’ face. He was furious.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, looking both flattered and bewildered. “I ... wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you assure him quickly. “I didn’t choose you because I actually intended to ... you know. I chose you to teach Carlos a lesson.”

Charles nods slowly, processing this information. “And did he learn his lesson?”

You shrug, finishing off your wine. “I don’t know. I left him screaming in our hotel room.”

“Y/N,” Charles says softly, his voice full of concern. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. You deserve better.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Do I? Sometimes I wonder ...”

Charles reaches out again, this time cupping your cheek gently. “Listen to me. You are an incredible woman. You’re smart, funny, beautiful ... any man would be lucky to have you. And if Carlos can’t see that, if he’s willing to risk losing you over some stupid fantasy, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

You lean into his touch, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the wine. “Charles ...”

He leans in closer, his voice low and intense. “If you were with me, I would treat you like the queen you deserve to be. I would never even think about another woman, let alone ask for permission to be with one.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. “Charles, I ... we can’t ...”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “Why not? You have a hall pass, don’t you?”

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of emotions clouding your judgment. “That’s not ... I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Charles sighs, dropping his hand from your face. “I know. And I would never want to be the reason you and Carlos break up. But Y/N, you have to know ... I’ve had feelings for you for a long time.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You have?”

He nods, a rueful smile on his face. “How could I not? You’re amazing. But you were with Carlos, and I respected that. I still do. But seeing you hurt like this ... it kills me.”

You feel tears spilling down your cheeks now, unable to hold them back any longer. “I don’t know what to do. I love Carlos, but after tonight ... I don’t know if I can trust him anymore.”

Charles pulls you into a gentle hug, his strong arms wrapping around you protectively. “It’s okay. You don’t have to decide anything right now.”

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. “I just ... I feel so lost.”

He strokes your hair softly, his voice a soothing murmur. “I know. But you’re not alone. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

You pull back slightly, looking up into his eyes. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.”

He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Always. But Y/N ... I want you to know that if you ever decide you want more than friendship, I’m here. I would never hurt you the way Carlos has.”

You feel a flutter in your stomach, a mix of excitement and fear. “Charles, I ...”

He shakes his head, placing a finger gently on your lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

You nod, suddenly very aware of how close you are, of the electricity crackling between you. “I should ... I should probably go.”

Charles nods, but makes no move to let you go. “Probably. But do you want to?”

You bite your lip, torn between desire and duty. “I ... I don’t know.”

He leans in, his lips barely brushing your ear as he whispers, “Come up to my room. We don’t have to do anything. We can just talk or watch a movie. But I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

You shiver at his closeness, your resolve weakening. “Charles, I ... what if someone sees us?”

He pulls back, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. “Let them see. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re allowed to have friends, to seek comfort when you’re hurting.”

You take a deep breath, knowing that you’re standing on the edge of a precipice. One wrong move and everything could come crashing down. But looking into Charles’ eyes, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence, you find yourself nodding.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let’s go.”

Charles stands, offering you his hand. You take it, allowing him to lead you towards the elevators. As you walk, you can feel the eyes of other patrons on you, but Charles’ steady presence beside you helps you keep your head high.

In the elevator, you stand close together, the air thick with unspoken tension. Charles’ thumb traces small circles on the back of your hand, sending shivers up your arm.

“Charles,” you say softly as the elevator begins to ascend. “I need you to know ... I’m not using you to get back at Carlos. Whatever happens tonight, it’s because I want it to.”

He turns to face you, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek once more. “I know. And I want you to know that whatever happens or doesn’t happen, tonight doesn’t change anything. I’ll still be here for you tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that.”

You lean into his touch, feeling a sense of peace wash over you for the first time since your fight with Carlos. “Thank you.”

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival at Charles’ floor. He leads you down the hallway to his suite, fumbling slightly with the key card before pushing the door open.

As you step inside, you’re struck by how different it feels from the suite you share with Carlos. Where your room is cluttered with both of your belongings, evidence of your life together, Charles’ suite is neat and minimalist. It feels like a blank slate, a fresh start.

Charles closes the door behind you, leaning against it as he watches you take in the room. “So,” he says softly, “what now?”

You turn to face him, suddenly feeling nervous. “I ... I don’t know. This is all happening so fast.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes. “We can take it slow. Why don’t we sit down, maybe order some room service? We can talk, or not talk. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You feel a rush of affection for him, grateful for his patience and understanding. “That sounds nice.”

Charles moves to the phone, quickly ordering a selection of snacks and another bottle of wine. As he hangs up, he turns back to you with a shy smile. “I hope you don’t mind, I ordered your favorite.”

You blink in surprise. “You know my favorite wine?”

He shrugs, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “I pay attention.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words. How many times had you had to remind Carlos of your preferences?

As you settle onto the plush sofa, Charles takes a seat beside you, close but not touching. “Y/N,” he says softly, “I want you to know that you’re in control here. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and desire. “I know. And I appreciate that, Charles. But ...”

He raises an eyebrow. “But?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. “But I think I want to kiss you.”

Charles’ eyes widen, a look of surprise and joy spreading across his face. “Are you sure?”

Instead of answering, you lean forward, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss. For a moment, Charles is still, as if he can’t believe this is happening. Then, with a small groan, he responds, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss.

As you lose yourself in the sensation of Charles’ lips on yours, his strong arms pulling you closer, you feel a sense of rightness settle over you. You know that there will be consequences to face tomorrow, difficult conversations to be had. But for now, in this moment, you allow yourself to forget about everything else and simply feel.

When you finally pull apart, both breathing heavily, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “Y/N,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You smile, running your fingers through his hair. “Me too. I just didn’t realize it until now.”

He pulls back slightly, searching your eyes. “What happens now?”

You take a deep breath, considering your words carefully. “Now ... now we take things one step at a time. I can’t make any promises, Charles. I need to sort things out with Carlos, figure out what I really want.”

He nods, understanding and a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I know. And I’ll respect whatever decision you make. Just know that I’m here, Y/N. Whatever you need.”

You lean in, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you. For everything.”

As you settle back into his arms, feeling safe and cared for in a way you haven’t in a long time, you know that whatever the future holds, this night has changed everything. And for the first time in a long time, you’re looking forward to what tomorrow might bring.

***

The soft morning light filters through the curtains, a sliver landing directly on the warming skin of your face. You stir slowly, awareness creeping in as you realize you’re not in your own bed. As your eyes flutter open, you find yourself nestled in Charles’ arms, his steady heartbeat a comforting rhythm against your cheek.

For a moment, panic flares in your chest as you try to piece together the events of the night before. But as memories flood back, you relax, remembering that while you and Charles shared kisses and conversation, nothing more intimate transpired.

Charles shifts beside you, his arms tightening slightly as he wakes. “Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

You tilt your head to look up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Good morning.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. “How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to assess, surprised by the sense of calm that settles over you. “Better than I expected, actually.”

Charles nods, relief evident in his eyes. “I’m glad. I was worried you might regret ... well, everything.”

You shake your head, sitting up slightly to meet his gaze. “I don’t regret anything. Last night ... it made a lot of things clear for me.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity and hope warring in his expression. “Oh? What kind of things?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead. “I think ... I think I want to be with you. Not just for a hall pass, not just for one night. I want to see where this could go between us.”

Charles’ face lights up, joy radiating from every feature. But then, just as quickly, concern clouds his expression. “Y/N, as much as I want that — and believe me, I do — what about Carlos?”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I need to end things with him. Properly. What he did, suggesting that hall pass ... it was just a symptom of bigger problems in our relationship. I see that now.”

Charles nods slowly, sitting up beside you. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want you to make any rash decisions because of one fight.”

You turn to face him fully, taking his hands in yours. “I’m sure. Last night, talking with you, being with you ... it made me realize what I’ve been missing. The respect, the understanding, the way you actually listen to me. I want that. I want you.”

A smile spreads across Charles’ face, but there’s still a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that. But ... are you sure you want to do this now? Maybe you should take some time, think things through.”

You shake your head, determination setting in. “No, I need to do this now. If I wait, I’ll just be living a lie. Carlos deserves to know the truth, and I ... I want to start this — us — with a clean slate.”

Charles squeezes your hands gently. “Okay. If you’re sure. But I’m not letting you face Carlos alone.”

You blink in surprise. “What do you mean?”

He meets your gaze steadily. “I mean I’m coming with you when you break up with him. I know Carlos, and I know he’s not going to take this well. I want to be there to support you.”

“Charles,” you protest weakly, “I can’t ask you to do that. It’s going to be messy enough without you there.”

He shakes his head firmly. “You’re not asking, I’m offering. More than that, I’m insisting. We’re in this together now. Let me be there for you.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by his support. “Okay,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

Charles leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Always. Now, why don’t we get cleaned up and face this together?”

An hour later, freshly showered and steeled for the confrontation ahead, you stand outside the door to your suite with Charles by your side. Your hand trembles slightly as you raise it to knock.

“Hey,” Charles says softly, catching your hand in his. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here with you.”

You nod, taking a deep breath before rapping your knuckles against the door. For a long moment, there’s silence. Then, just as you’re about to knock again, the door flies open.

Carlos stands there, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. His gaze flicks between you and Charles, confusion quickly morphing into anger.

“What the hell is this?” He demands, his voice rough.

You step forward, trying to keep your voice calm. “We need to talk.”

He laughs bitterly, throwing the door wider. “Oh, now you want to talk? After disappearing all night? Come on in, let’s have a nice chat.”

As you and Charles enter the suite, you can’t help but notice the state of disarray. Empty bottles litter the coffee table, and it’s clear Carlos hasn’t slept.

“Have a nice night?” Carlos spits, slamming the door behind you.

You flinch at the sound, but stand your ground. “I’m sorry for leaving like that. But we need to discuss what happened.”

He rounds on you, anger blazing in his eyes. “What’s there to discuss? You used your fucking hall pass, didn’t you? With him?” He jabs a finger at Charles, who remains calm but alert beside you.

“No, Carlos, I didn’t,” you say firmly. “Charles and I talked, that’s all.”

Carlos scoffs, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Oh, you expect me to believe that? You disappear all night, then show up with him in the morning, and I’m supposed to think nothing happened?”

Charles steps forward, his voice level. “She’s telling you the truth. Nothing happened between us last night.”

Carlos whirls on him, fury contorting his features. “Stay out of this, Leclerc. This is between me and my girlfriend.”

You feel anger bubbling up inside you at his possessive tone. “That’s just it. I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”

The room goes deathly silent as your words hang in the air. Carlos stares at you, shock replacing anger for a moment before his face hardens again.

“What did you just say?” He growls.

You stand tall, drawing strength from Charles’ presence beside you. “I said I’m not your girlfriend anymore. I’m breaking up with you.”

For a moment, Carlos looks like you’ve physically struck him. Then, with a roar of rage, he sweeps his arm across the nearest surface, sending glasses and bottles crashing to the floor.

“You fucking bitch!” He shouts, advancing on you. “You sleep with my teammate and then have the audacity to break up with me?”

Charles steps between you and Carlos, his voice low and dangerous. “Back off. Now.”

Carlos sneers at him. “Oh, defending your new whore, are you? How noble.”

You push past Charles, anger overriding your fear. “That’s enough! I told you, I didn’t sleep with Charles. But even if I had, it would have been my right. You’re the one who suggested this stupid hall pass in the first place!”

Carlos laughs bitterly. “Oh, so this is my fault now? I suggest a little harmless fantasy to spice things up, and you use it as an excuse to cheat on me?”

“It wasn’t harmless!” You shout back. “It was hurtful and disrespectful. Did you ever stop to think how it would make me feel, knowing you wanted permission to sleep with other women?”

Carlos runs his hands through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “It wasn’t about that! It was just a game, a fantasy!”

You shake your head, feeling a wave of sadness wash over you. “That’s the problem. Our relationship isn’t a game. It’s not something to be risked on a whim. And the fact that you don’t understand that ... it just proves we’re not right for each other anymore.”

Carlos’ anger seems to deflate, replaced by a desperate pleading. “Y/N, please. We can work this out. I’m sorry about the hall pass thing, okay? I was an idiot. But don’t throw away everything we have over one stupid mistake.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you blink them back. “It’s not just about the hall pass. It’s about everything. The way you take me for granted, the way you never really listen to me. I deserve better than that. I deserve someone who respects me, who values me.”

Carlos’ gaze flicks to Charles, understanding dawning in his eyes. “And you think he’s that someone? My teammate? My friend?”

Charles steps forward, his voice soft but firm. “I’m sorry it happened this way. I never wanted to hurt you. But Y/N is right — she deserves better. And I want to be the one to give her that.”

For a moment, you think Carlos might lunge at Charles. But then, to your surprise, he crumples, sinking onto the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

“How long?” He asks, his voice muffled.

You move closer, but stop short of touching him. “How long what?”

He looks up, his eyes red-rimmed. “How long have you two been ... feeling this way about each other?”

You exchange a glance with Charles before answering. “Honestly? I didn’t realize how I felt about Charles until last night. When he was there for me, really listening and supporting me ... it made me see what I’ve been missing.”

Carlos nods slowly, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “And you, Charles? How long have you been in love with my girlfriend?”

Charles takes a deep breath, meeting Carlos’ gaze steadily. “A while. But Carlos, I swear to you, nothing ever happened between us until last night. And even then, we didn’t sleep together. I respect you too much for that.”

Carlos laughs humorlessly. “Respect me? You’re stealing my girlfriend and you talk about respect?”

You feel a flare of irritation at his words. “He’s not stealing me. I’m not a possession. I’m making my own choice.”

Carlos stands abruptly, moving to the window and staring out at the city below. For a long moment, silence reigns in the room. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, defeated.

“Get out. Both of you. I can’t ... I can’t look at either of you right now.”

You take a step towards him, your heart aching despite everything. “Carlos ...”

He whirls around, his eyes flashing. “I said get out! Take your things and go. I’ll have the rest sent to you.”

You nod slowly, knowing that pushing further will only make things worse. As you move around the room, gathering your essential belongings, you feel a profound sadness settling over you. This is the end of a significant chapter in your life, and despite your certainty that it’s the right decision, it still hurts.

Charles waits by the door, a silent, supportive presence. When you’ve finished packing a small bag, you join him, pausing at the threshold to look back at Carlos one last time.

“I’m sorry it ended this way,” you say softly. “I hope ... I hope someday you can forgive us.”

Carlos doesn’t respond, doesn’t even turn to look at you. With a heavy sigh, you step into the hallway, Charles close behind you.

As the door clicks shut, you lean against the wall, suddenly feeling drained. Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“Are you okay?” He asks gently.

You nod against his chest, taking comfort in his warmth. “I will be. It’s just ... it’s a lot.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I know. But you’re not alone. We’ll get through this together.”

You look up at him, managing a small smile despite the turmoil of emotions swirling inside you. “Together. I like the sound of that.”

***

The soft glow of the setting sun filters through the curtains of Charles’ hotel suite, casting a golden light across the room. You sit on the plush sofa, your legs tucked beneath you, a glass of Prosecco cradled in your hands. Across from you, Charles leans against the minibar, his own glass in hand, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches you.

“What?” You ask, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks under his intense gaze.

Charles shakes his head, his smile widening. “Nothing. I just ... I can’t believe you’re really here. With me.”

You take a sip of your Prosecco, savoring the crisp, bubbly taste. “I’m having a hard time believing it myself. But I’m glad I am.”

Charles moves to join you on the sofa, settling in close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. “How are you feeling? After everything that happened with Carlos ...”

You sigh, leaning back against the cushions. “Honestly? I feel ... lighter. Like a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying has been lifted.”

Charles nods, his expression thoughtful. “I’m glad. But I want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you. If you need time, space ...”

You cut him off by placing your hand gently on his arm. “I appreciate that. But I’ve had years of space with Carlos. What I want now is to be here, with you.”

His eyes light up at your words, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. As he pulls back, you can’t help but smile at the joy radiating from him.

“You know,” you say, taking another sip of your Prosecco, “I have to admit, I was surprised when you ordered this.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “The Prosecco? Why?”

You shrug, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “Carlos always insisted on ordering Spanish cava. He said it was better. I never had the heart to tell him I preferred Prosecco.”

Charles looks at you incredulously. “You’re kidding. He never noticed?”

You shake your head. “Nope. I mean, I drank it, of course. But ... I don’t know. It just never seemed important enough to make a fuss over.”

Charles sets his glass down on the coffee table, turning to face you fully. “Y/N, listen to me. Your preferences, your likes and dislikes — they’re important. They matter. You matter.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. “Thank you. That ... that means a lot.”

He reaches out, gently wiping away a tear that has escaped. “It’s the truth. And for the record, I’ve known you preferred Prosecco since that team dinner in Monza two years ago.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You remember that?”

Charles nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Of course. You lit up when they brought out the Prosecco. Your whole face changed. I’ve never seen someone so happy over a glass of bubbly.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol. “I can’t believe you noticed that.”

“I notice everything about you,” Charles says softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I always have.”

You lean into his touch, your heart racing. “Like what?”

Charles’ thumb traces gentle circles on your skin as he speaks. “Like how you always twist your hair around your finger when you’re deep in thought. Or how you bite your lip to hide your smile when you’re trying not to laugh at one of the guys’ bad jokes.”

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, touched by his attention to detail. “What else?”

He grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, I know you have a secret stash of gummy bears in your purse for long flights. And that you always hum Dancing Queen under your breath when you’re in a good mood.”

You gasp in mock horror. “Charles Leclerc, have you been spying on me?”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Not spying. Just ... paying attention. Is that okay?”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat at the tenderness in his gaze. “It’s more than okay. It’s ... it’s wonderful.”

Charles leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re wonderful. And you deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates every little thing about you.”

You close the distance between you, capturing his lips in a soft, sweet kiss. When you pull back, you’re both a little breathless.

“Charles,” you murmur, “I think I’m falling for you.”

His face lights up with joy. “That’s good, because I’ve already fallen for you.”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in years. “Oh really? When did that happen?”

Charles pretends to think for a moment. “Hmm, probably around the time you yelled at that journalist for asking me stupid questions after my DNF in Canada.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “Oh god, I forgot about that. I was so embarrassed afterwards.”

He gently pries your hands away, his eyes shining with admiration. “Don’t be. It was amazing. No one’s ever defended me like that before.”

You shrug, feeling a bit sheepish. “He was being an ass. You didn’t deserve that after the race you had.”

Charles pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “See? That’s what I mean. You care. Deeply and fiercely. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

You snuggle into his side, reveling in the warmth and safety of his embrace. “You know, it’s funny. I always thought I was happy with Carlos. But being here with you ... it’s making me realize how much I was missing.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Like what?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. “Well, for one thing, this. Just sitting and talking, really talking. With Carlos, it always felt like we were just going through the motions, you know? Like we were playing the roles of the perfect couple without really connecting.”

Charles nods, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your arm. “I get that. It’s easy to fall into patterns, to stop really seeing each other.”

“Exactly,” you agree. “And it’s not just the big things. It’s the little stuff too. Like ...” You pause, a memory suddenly surfacing. “Oh! Like the flowers.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Flowers?”

You sit up, turning to face him. “Yeah. Carlos always sent me these huge bouquets of red roses. Which, don’t get me wrong, were beautiful. But ...”

“But they’re not your favorite,” Charles finishes for you.

You blink in surprise. “How did you know that?”

He grins, looking a bit bashful. “Remember that charity gala in Milan last year? You spent at least ten minutes gushing over the centerpieces.”

You gasp, the memory flooding back. “The peonies! Oh my god, Charles, how do you remember these things?”

He shrugs, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “Like I said, I pay attention. Especially when it comes to you.”

You feel your heart swell with affection. “Well, Mr. Attentive, what else have you noticed about me?”

Charles pretends to think hard, tapping his chin dramatically. “Let’s see ... I know you prefer your coffee with just a splash of milk, no sugar. You always double-knot your shoelaces before a run. Oh, and you have a secret obsession with cheesy 80s power ballads.”

You laugh, playfully swatting his arm. “Okay, now I know you’re making things up. There’s no way you could know about my power ballad addiction.”

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh really? So if I were to start singing Total Eclipse of the Heart, you wouldn’t immediately join in?”

Your jaw drops. “How ... how did you ...”

Charles grins triumphantly. “Team karaoke night in Singapore. You thought everyone was too drunk to remember, but I wasn’t as far gone as I let on.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god, I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

He gently pries your hands away, his expression soft and sincere. “Hey, no hiding. I loved it. You were so free, so happy. It was beautiful to watch.”

You feel tears prickling at your eyes again, overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings. “Charles ...”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that have escaped. “Y/N, I want you to know that I see you. All of you. The good, the bad, the silly, the serious. And I love every part of it.”

You lean into his touch, your heart racing. “I’m starting to see you too, Charles. And I ... I think I might be falling in love with what I see.”

His face lights up with joy, and he pulls you in for a deep, passionate kiss. When you finally break apart, you’re both breathless and grinning.

“So,” Charles says, his voice low and husky, “what do you say we order some room service? I’m thinking ... chocolate lava cake for dessert?”

You gasp in delight. “How did you know that’s my favorite?”

He winks, reaching for the room service menu. “I told you, mon cœur. I pay attention.”

As Charles calls down to place the order, you lean back against the sofa, a contented smile playing on your lips. You can’t help but marvel at how different this feels from your relationship with Carlos. With Charles, you feel seen, heard, understood in a way you never have before.

When he hangs up the phone and rejoins you on the sofa, you curl into his side, feeling perfectly at home in his arms. As the night deepens around you, filled with laughter, deep conversations, and stolen kisses, you know that this is just the beginning of something beautiful. With Charles, you’re not just being loved — you’re being cherished, appreciated for every little thing that makes you who you are.

And as you drift off to sleep in his arms later that night, the taste of chocolate and Prosecco still lingering on your lips, you can’t help but feel that you’ve finally found where you truly belong.

***

Carlos stands at the edge of the pit lane, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before him. You and Charles are huddled together by the Ferrari garage, laughing and talking animatedly. The sight sends a sharp pang through Carlos’ chest, a mixture of anger, jealousy, and regret swirling in his gut.

He watches as Charles leans in, whispering something in your ear that makes you throw your head back in laughter. Carlos grits his teeth, remembering a time when he was the one to make you laugh like that.

“They look happy, don’t they?” A voice says beside him.

Carlos turns to see Lando standing there, a sympathetic look on his face. “What do you want?” Carlos growls, not in the mood for conversation.

Lando holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Just checking on you, mate. I know this can’t be easy to watch.”

Carlos scoffs, turning his attention back to you and Charles. “I’m fine. It’s not like I care what she does anymore.”

Even as he says the words, Carlos knows they’re a lie. He does care. He cares so much it feels like he’s being torn apart from the inside.

He watches as Charles pulls out a small package from his pocket, handing it to you with a flourish. Your eyes light up as you unwrap it, revealing what looks like a bag of candy.

“What’s that about?” Carlos mutters, more to himself than to Lando.

Lando squints, trying to get a better look. “Looks like ... gummy bears? Huh, I didn’t know Y/N liked those.”

Carlos feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “She doesn’t,” he says automatically. But even as the words leave his mouth, he sees the way you’re beaming at Charles, popping a gummy bear into your mouth with evident delight.

“You sure about that?” Lando asks, raising an eyebrow.

Carlos doesn’t respond, his mind racing. How had he never known you liked gummy bears? Had you ever mentioned it? Had he ever bothered to ask?

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your laughter again. Charles is holding out his phone, showing you something on the screen. As you lean in to look, Charles’ arm slips around your waist, pulling you close.

Carlos feels his hands clench into fists at his sides. He wants to look away, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes from the scene.

“You know,” Lando says carefully, “maybe you should talk to them. Clear the air.”

Carlos shakes his head vehemently. “There’s nothing to talk about. She made her choice.”

Lando sighs. “Look, mate, I know you’re hurting. But-”

“But nothing,” Carlos snaps. “Just drop it.”

Lando holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m here if you need to talk, though.”

As Lando walks away, Carlos continues to watch you and Charles. He sees the way Charles’ hand rests on the small of your back, the way you lean into him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Suddenly, Charles looks up, his eyes meeting Carlos’ across the paddock. For a moment, they just stare at each other, an unspoken tension crackling between them. Then, to Carlos’ surprise, Charles says something to you and starts making his way over.

Carlos straightens, steeling himself for the confrontation. As Charles approaches, he can see you watching anxiously from a distance.

“Carlos,” Charles says, his voice cautious. “Can we talk?”

Carlos crosses his arms, his jaw clenched. “What’s there to talk about?”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this situation is ... complicated. But I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you.”

Carlos laughs bitterly. “Hurt me? You stole my girlfriend. How did you think that was going to make me feel?”

Charles shakes his head. “I didn’t steal anyone. Y/N made her own choice.”

“Right,” Carlos spits. “And I’m sure you had nothing to do with that.”

Charles takes a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his composure. “I won’t deny that I had feelings for Y/N for a long time. But I never acted on them while you were together. Never.”

Carlos scoffs. “Oh, how noble of you.”

“Carlos, please,” Charles says, his voice softening. “I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be. But can’t you see how happy she is?”

Carlos’ eyes flick back to you, standing by the garage and watching them anxiously. He hates to admit it, but you do look happy. Happier than he can remember seeing you in a long time.

“She was happy with me,” Carlos insists, but the words sound hollow even to his own ears.

Charles gives him a sad smile. “Was she? Really? Because from what she’s told me, there were a lot of things you never noticed about her.”

Carlos feels a flare of anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Charles says carefully, “that sometimes we take the people we love for granted. We stop seeing them, really seeing them.”

Carlos wants to argue, to defend himself, but he finds the words sticking in his throat. Because deep down, he knows Charles is right.

“Did you know,” Charles continues, his voice gentle, “that her favorite flowers are pink peonies? Not red roses?”

Carlos blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

Charles nods. “Or that she prefers Prosecco to cava? Or that she has a secret addiction to 80s power ballads?”

With each revelation, Carlos feels like he’s being hit with a fresh wave of regret. How had he missed all of these things? How had he failed to notice what made you, you?

“I ...” Carlos starts, then stops, unsure of what to say.

Charles puts a hand on his shoulder, the gesture surprisingly kind given the circumstances. “I’m not telling you this to hurt you. I’m telling you because I want you to understand. Y/N deserves to be with someone who sees her, who appreciates every little thing about her.”

Carlos nods slowly, the fight draining out of him. “And that someone is you?”

Charles smiles softly. “I hope so. I’m certainly trying to be.”

They stand in silence for a moment, both looking over at you. You’re still watching them anxiously, clearly worried about what they might be saying to each other.

Finally, Carlos speaks, his voice rough with emotion. “Just ... just promise me you’ll treat her right. Better than I did.”

Charles nods solemnly. “I promise. With everything I have.”

As Charles turns to walk back to you, Carlos calls out, “Charles?”

Charles pauses, looking back over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Carlos says quietly. “For loving her the way she deserves.”

Charles gives him a small, understanding smile before continuing on his way. Carlos watches as he returns to you, sees the way your face lights up as Charles pulls you into a comforting embrace.

As he turns to walk away, Carlos feels a mix of emotions swirling inside him. There’s still pain, still regret, but there’s also a glimmer of something else. Something that feels a lot like acceptance.

He realizes now that he had taken you for granted, had failed to see the beautiful, complex person you truly were. And while it hurts to admit it, he knows that Charles sees all of that and more.

As he makes his way back to his own garage, Carlos makes a silent promise to himself. To pay more attention, to really see the people in his life. Because he never wants to make the same mistake again, never wants to lose someone else because he failed to appreciate them.

And as he glances back one last time, seeing you and Charles walking hand-in-hand, laughing and lost in your own world, Carlos feels a weight lift from his shoulders.

It’s not easy, and it still hurts, but he knows now that this is how it should be. You deserve to be with someone who knows you, truly knows you, inside and out.

And as much as it pains him to admit it, that someone isn’t him. It’s Charles.

With a deep breath, Carlos turns away, ready to face whatever comes next. He’s lost you, but in doing so, he’s gained a valuable lesson. One he won’t soon forget.

2K notes · View notes

happy74827 · 5 months ago

Text

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their real names."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple to say. Something easy, yet not so simple to answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was�� it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

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logansdoll · 4 months ago

Text

jim beam

navigating life in a new universe was already a bit of a struggle for Logan... and Wade just had to make it worse (or far, far, far better) by giving him a "house-warming gift".

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place after the events of Deadpool 3, Wade is actually really hard to write for, Logan deserves the world, comfort, angst if you squint, etc.

"Honey, I'm home!" Wade loudly sang, kicking open the door to Logan's apartment with a dramatic flourish.

"Fuck me," Logan groaned from his spot on the couch, closing his eyes and allowing his head to lull back with annoyance.

This defeated the entire purpose of why he got his own apartment in the first place.

To avoid these types of interactions with the most persistently, consistently annoying asshole in the entire multiverse.

"Now, now, is that any way to talk to the friend who's about to bring your long lost lover back from the dead?" Wade tutted, skipping into the living room, taking notice of the bottle of liquor resting in Logan's hand.

'So it's that kinda morning...'

"Jim Beam at 10 am on a Tuesday?" he noted, "Well, I guess it's five o'clock nowhere... so have at it."

"What did you just say?" Logan sat up straight, brows furrowed as he focused on Wade's previous statement.

"Alcoholics everywhere salute you for taking your liver where no organ has gone before."

"Wade."

"I'm honestly starting to believe you do it for the love of the game rather than the expositional, look how sad he is plot device the author is currently using... I mean, seriously? Can we skip past all this bullshit and get to the—"

Quickly, Logan grabbed him by the front of his suit, yanking him closer with an angrily confused expression.

"If anything besides a goddamn answer comes out of your mouth... I will stab you in the face," he growled, spelling out each syllable to further his point. "What the hell do you mean bring her back from the dead?"

To Logan, you were everything

The sun. The moon. The air. The clouds.

Despite seeing all the horrible thing he'd done, and knowing firsthand just how much of an asshole he could be, you still smiled at him.

No matter how many times he pushed you away, you were relentless.

Keeping his room together while he was away finding himself.

Making him meals when you noticed he he'd gone without eating.

Forcing him to take breathers after intense sessions in the Danger Room.

For the longest, he couldn't wrap his head around someone like you caring about a jackass like him.

Until he got fed up and just outright asked.

But, as if nothing, you answered:

"Your past makes think you don't deserve love, Logan," you started, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned up against the counter. "You storm around here with a rude ass attitude and a smart mouth hoping to convince me of that... but if anything, you're only making it worse for yourself."

You smiled, looking up at him with a glint in your eye that sent shocks running down his spine.

"Because in my heart of hearts I know you're a man who wants care and attention, just like everybody else."

With a chuckle, you rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"And I'll keep shovin' dinners down your throat until you realize that."

Despite having everyone else fooled, you saw right through him, and true to your word, you didn't give up.

With every made bed, every meal, every conversation, Logan felt himself falling deeper into your charm, and over a glass of Jim Beam did he finally realize that he was in love with you.

But, like everything else he cared about in this world, you were taken away from him.

Unable to find your body in the rubble of the mansion, he looked high and low, quite literally going to the ends of the Earth to find you.

But after years of searching with nothing to show for it, he returned to the bottle, drowning himself in sorrow and regret.

Or, at least... until now.

"Well, according to the manual, she's not exactly dead, but she is unconscious," Wade answered, matter-of-factly.

"Unconscious?" Logan's brows furrowed, still quite confused.

Freeing himself from the man's grip, Wade stood up, going back around the couch and pulling out a small tablet from his pocket.

"See, I've noticed your humble abode could use a little sprucing, so I went back to our buddies at the TVA and kindly reminded them that you saved the multiverse and, godammnit, you deserve a reward."

"Get to the fuckin' point, jackass," Logan spat, turning to face him.

"So they sent some men back to your universe and found your girl!" Wade cheered, opening up a portal and reaching his hand in, pulling out a cryo-chamber with you inside.

The moment Logan's eyes met your sleeping face, all color and vibrancy seemed to return to the world.

He was at a loss for words.

You were here... not some dream or hallucination of guilt... but actually, truly, physically here.

"Apparently, some science fuckers were keeping her in a black site and testing to see how long she could go without aging. I won't bore you with the details," Wade explained, pulling out a small knife from his boot. "Now, let's break this bad boy open and meet the future Mrs. Wolverine!"

Before Logan could stop him, Wade stabbed the keypad at the side of the chamber, opening the door and sending you falling forward.

In an instant, Logan dropped his bottle and leaped over the couch, catching you just before you could face-plant on the hardwood floor.

"Watch it!" Logan roared, less than happy that you'd only been there for about three minutes and Wade had already almost broken your nose.

"I am so sorry!" Wade gasped, his hands slapping his cheeks in shock. "I didn't think she'd actually fall out the chamber when they told me she'd fall out the chamber... Nice save, though, Romeo."

Turning you over, Logan cupped your cheek, the chill of your skin already beginning to warm.

But you were still out cold, limp in his grasp as he held you close to his chest.

"She's not waking up..." Logan noticed, brows furrowed. "Why the hell isn't she waking up?"

"Easy there, tiger. They told me how long it takes varies from person to person," Wade assured, shutting the portal. "Some take minutes, others hours. It could be a couple of days before she even opens her eyes."

An expression of solemnity slid over Logan's face as he gazed over yours, your skin still so flesh colored, it looked as if you were sleeping.

Just as soft and tender as he remembered.

And he had full intentions on keeping it that way.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he ghosted his hand over your cheek.

In that moment, he swore to himself that he'd never leave you again.

He'd be a friend, a bodyguard, a lover, whatever you wanted, but no matter his title, anything that wanted to harm you would have to do so over his dead body.

And even then he'd force himself to get back up and fight.

This world was giving him a second chance at life, a second chance at a life with you, and he'd be damned if he let anything ruin it.

Suddenly, you took in an aggressive gasp, scaring the shit out of Wade as your eyes snapped open.

"Holy fucking shit nuggets!" he jolted, jumping from his spot across he room as Logan allowed his shoulders to sink, mumbling a quiet thanks to whatever god or deity brought you back to him.

Feeling a strong set of arms cradling you, you looked up, solace setting into your bones at the sight of the familiar man before you, who was unable to stop the few joyful tears escaping his eyes.

"Logan—"

Without a moment's hesitation, his lips were on yours, making up for what felt like a lifetime of loss by dumping all of his passion, all of his love, all of his devotion into one Earth shattering kiss.

You melted into it seamlessly, your hand finding home in his scruffy hair as he pulled you flush against him, clutching you with a death grip.

Donning a cheeky smile under his mask, Wade turned away to give you both a moment, thought not without making a crude sex gesture behind his back.

'I don't think Miss (Y/N)/Girl Sitting At Home Reading This is gonna be able to walk tomorrow...'

With a gasp, the two of you separated, Logan's hand raising to cup your cheek, relishing how easily you leaned into him.

"(y/n)... I thought I lost you," he panted, his eyes scouring over your face, committing every detail to memory.

"For a while, you did," you sighed with a grin, carding a hand through the few gray strands in his hair, before comparing them to your own. "Time looks good on you."

He chuckled, quietly relieved you still found him attractive after all these years.

Sitting up, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled the man into a bone crushing hug, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm not really sure what happened... or how I'm alive..." you weakly laughed, starting to get choked up. "But I know that if you go out drinking without me ever again, I'm putting your head on a spike."

Instantly, Logan's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you reverently as if he let go for one moment, the powers that be would part him from you.

"I swear on my life... I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

#james howlett #james howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #wolverine x reader #x men #x men x reader #wolverine

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babyleostuff · 4 months ago

Text

spreadsheet

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: (architect)student!mingyu x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 980

SYNOPSIS: if there's one thing mingyu finds incredibly sexy, it's intelligence

“i give up.”

that was honestly the last thing you’d ever expect to hear from your boyfriend. kim mingyu never gave up, and even if - it wasn’t everyday that his ego allowed him to admit to failure.

confused, you looked up from your computer to see what finally managed to defeat him, just to be met with a very pouty, and a very annoyed boyfriend looking at the screen of his own computer, like he had some personal vendetta against it.

you quickly covered your mouth with your hand to hide the smile forming on your face. you didn’t need mingyu to think you were making fun of him. “weren’t you supposed to work on your exam project?” you asked, doing your best not to burst out laughing. there was just something about that hunk of a six foot two man with killer biceps who was sitting opposite you, and pouting like a five year old that made you cackle.

“yes, but i have to use a spreadsheet or whatever to sort out some of the information, and,” he sighed, “i have no idea how to use it.”

with a loud bang, mingyu’s forehead met the table, which would definitely leave a small bump he’d make you kiss better later. huh, so he really gave up.

“i don’t think i understand,” you crooked your head at him, pushing yours and his computers away, so you could lean over and place your hand at the nape of his neck. “kim mingyu, one of the best future architects, doesn't know how to use a spreadsheet?” your boyfriend was smart smart, there was no way he didn’t know a couple of formulas to sort out the data.

mingyu groaned loudly, and shook your hand off his neck. “don’t make fun of me baby,” with a whine, he lifted up his head, revealing big shiny puppy eyes, which were practically begging for your help. “as you said, i’m an architect, not a computer science guy!” he exclaimed, his lips turning more and more pouty with each word.

for a person that loved to make fun of coups and his pout, it didn’t seem like mingyu realised how big of a pouty baby he was himself.

“i don’t think you need to study computer science to know how to use a spreadsheet, gyu,” you said, and ran your thumb over his jutted out lip. “besides, you study maths and physics, shouldn’t you know how to use this kind of stuff?”

“if this is your way of making me feel better it’s not working,” mingyu huffed, grabbing your hand in his. “and i really need to figure this out, but i have no idea how. i tried watching tutorials, but i still don’t get it. like, the more i try to understand it the less sense it actually makes,” his breath ghosted your knuckles, as his lips moved against your fingers. “please tell me you’re an undercover tech guru, so you can do this for me. ”

you gave mingyu’s hand a little squeeze, and took his computer with your free hand, sliding it over to your side of the table.

“what are you doing?” he asked, confusion lacing his voice.

you shook your head in amusement, and squeezed his hand once again, as you transferred all of the necessary data into a new, empty spreadsheet. “i may not be a tech guru as you called it, but it’s a good thing you have a super smart girlfriend,” you murmured, focused on the screen, “that knows the basics of how to use a spreadsheet.”

you didn't have to look at mingyu to know that his eyes were wide and his mouth open in bewilderment - but it wasn't your fault - it's not like you ever had the opportunity to show off your skills before. besides, mingyu was so in love with you and he was so down bad that you didn't have to do anything special to make him look at you like you just invented a new element.

“it’s really not that hard, you just have to,” the quiet noise of you typing filled your living room for a moment, “you have to know which formals to use.”

mingyu couldn’t tear his eyes off you. how in the world did he manage to bag a girl that was not only insanely beautiful, but also smart as hell? though he couldn’t see what exactly you were doing (not that he cared about that, he wouldn’t understand any of it anyway), mingyu was sure you were doing magic with those damn spreadsheets.

“here,” you said with a proud smile a short while later, “is this what you were meant to do?” you turned the computer around for him to see the, yes - perfectly sorted data, just like his professor wanted them to be.

“you are so fucking hot.”

mingyu couldn’t help himself. he loved acting like he was the smartest in the room, but holy shit - his girlfriend was a genius, and he’d act all dumb just to have her fill out his spreadsheets.

“you are literally the most amazing thing ever, baby,” mingyu breathed, still looking at you with disbelief. “so so smart, and so so mine.”

you snickered, and threw a rolled up napkin at him. “calm down, gyu. that was nothing, seriously.”

“nothing?!” he exclaimed, offended. “nothing, you say? so why was i struggling with it for the past hours?”

“if you paid more attention in class i’m sure you’d manage perfectly on your own,” you said, suddenly shy under his stare. the lovesick look was truly overwhelming. “now, will i get something in return?”

mingyu's expression suddenly seemed to change from pure surprise and admiration to something that pretty much resembled smugness. “what do you have in mind, princess?” he asked, crooking his head at you.

you smiled and pointed your finger at your lips.

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thinkinonsense · 2 months ago

Text

TALK, TALK₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

logan howlett x mutant!reader

cw: fluff, sweet logan

a/n: inspired by the charli xcx song<3 everything in spanish and french is from google translate so if it's incorrect, that why.

you were no stranger to crushes. they always showed up out of the blue; you couldn't help it. all it took was one glance, a smile, a bit of small talk, anything really. none of this changed when he entered your life.

maybe cupid had struck you in the ass at some point.

for weeks, everyone in the mansion knew where your feelings had floated. normally, you try not to develop any crushes on the people you see daily but this guy was different. even sort of dangerous; the thrill excited you.

"you don't understand, storm." you groan, helping her train downstairs. "there's just something about him. i can't explain it."

your dear friend laughs, swinging at the boxing bag again. "i'm not saying not to go after him... just be careful is all."

"well, there's nothing to worry about because he hasn't even talked to me." a small sigh escapes you.

"he hasn't talked to you?" she questions. you shake your head. "that's odd. i wonder why not?"

"well, he keeps to himself." you shrug, thinking of excuses besides the fact that he likely doesn't share the same feelings you do.

"hm... have you tried talking to him?"

"nooo." you giggle nervously. "absolutely not! you know how i get when i actually have to talk to people i have crushes on."

"i know." storm joins in on your laughter. "it's like someone set you on top of a stove; you just start melting."

"it all comes out like, 'blah, blah, blah'."

"you never know, maybe he speaks 'blah, blah, blah' too."

little did storm know that her words would linger around in your head every time you see him.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

obliviousness was not a trait logan had. he noticed everything; whether he liked it or not. in this case, he didn't mind noticing everything about you.

it started when he saw a shadow following him to the cafeteria, down the hall, and to the training room. he tried to be polite and ignore it; too afraid to scare you off entirely.

a couple days after your talk with storm, charles sent the older mutants out on a mission. this included storm, scott, logan, and yourself. upon the return, all of the older mutants gathered in the kitchen to unwind. you, storm, and kurt sat together at the table. the two of them bickered back and forth about something silly that happened during the mission.

it wasn't fair how good logan looked during the mission. the tight black spandex did wonders for his form. it felt like some high school crush. butterfly's always in your stomach when he looks at you.

on the other side of the room, logan sat in a wooden chair next to hank, with a cigar dangling from his lips. it must've felt like you were burning holes into the side of his head. even storm had to nudge you to look away from him, telling you to stop giving him 'heart eyes'.

"think someone's got a crush on you, pal." hank teases logan. "heard she's been waiting for you to talk to her."

you looked pretty, sitting at the table with a slight red stain on the inside of your lips, matching the flush of red on your cheeks when you notice him catching you staring. logan couldn't think of anything that compare to the ethereal sight before him.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

the glass of red wine on your hand was now empty, allowing you to excuse yourself from their conversation for a moment. at the counter, you pour yourself another glass; finishing off the bottle. when you turn to toss the bottle in the trash, you bump into someone.

"s-sorry." you squeal before realizing that it was logan that you bumped into.

"no need to apologize." he assures.

one of logan's big wide palms places itself on your waist, helping keep you upright. all of the wine flooded your mind, unable to form a proper sentence.

"dios mío, eres tan hermoso." you ramble drunkenly shooting stars from your eyes.

*oh my god, you're so gorgeous.

logan couldn't be more confused by your suddenly language switch but he found it awfully amusing. it wasn't a total surprise, he knew you were incredibly intelligent. charles always sang your praises. if you were even a little bit sober right now, you would be mortified.

"whatcha' thinking about, sweetheart?" he smirks, loving how flustered you became.

little did you know, the 200 year old mutant has definitely picked up on some different languages over his lifetime. to logan it didn't even matter whether or not he understood what you meant, he just wanted you to keep talking.

"je veux embrasser ton joli visage." your tongue runs over your bottom lip.

*wanna kiss your pretty face.

"hm... tell me more." logan purrs into your ear. completely forgetting about everyone else in the room.

"he estado enamorado de ti durante meses, ¿sabes?"

*i've had a crush on you for months, you know?

"je pense à toi tous les jours." you step closer, drunk with confidence. "pendant les entraînements, en mission, seule au lit... tout le temps."

*i think about you everyday. during training, on missions, alone in bed... all the time.

"such a smart girl, aren't 'cha, honey?" he groans softly at your words.

it took everything in logan not to kiss you right here, right now. he wanted you to remember the first time he kissed you.

"je veux être ta copine, logan." you whisper in his ear.

*wanna be your girl, logan.

"¿puedes guardar mi secreto?"

*can you keep my secret?

he never wanted you to stop talking; loving every word that falls from your foreign lips.

it wasn't long until storm, pulls you away hoping she caught you before you said anything you would regret. logan didn't mind, too excited to see you in the morning.

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ

when you woke up, your head was pounding. nothing worse than a wine hangover. you couldn't remember anything after jean poured you a third glass of wine. you took two aspirins and laid in bed for an extra hour before you finally made it downstairs for breakfast.

logan smelled your lavender scented shampoo the second you stepped out of your room. he had been downstairs waiting for you. everyone had already started their day, off either teaching or training. not him though, he had different plans for his day.

"morning." logan said to you as you walked into the kitchen. your heart fluttered, he could hear it.

"good morning." you reply meekly as you grab a plate and some utensils.

he sips on his plain black coffee while you place two waffles and some fruit onto your plate. theres a small stack of books next to logan on the table but you don't give it a second glance.

"wanna sit?" he asks you.

this was a completely different side of logan compared to the usually grumpy version of him that everyone sees.

"sure."

"did you have fun last night?"

he needed to test the waters on what you remember. by the late arrival to breakfast, logan's guess was not much.

"would you believe me if i said that i can't remember much?" you giggle nervously as you bite into a strawberry. "i was probably being boring in some corner."

you couldn't have been more wrong, logan thinks to himself. the two of you have some small talk for a while, enjoying each others company. this wasn't helping your crush from spreading.

once you cleared your plate and logan finished his coffee, both of you get up to place your dishes into the sink when you noticed the books in logan's hands. one spine read 'beginners guide to french' and the other read 'spanish for dummies'.

in a flash, everything came hurtling back at you full speed. this wasn't yours and logan's first conversation alone together.

"¿Qué pasa cariño?" logan asks, voice filled with desire as he cages you against the sink. his lips ghosted over your own; tempting you beyond your strengths. "je pensais que tu voulais que je te parle ?"

*what's wrong, sweetheart?

*i thought you wanted me to talk to you?

"et merde." you whisper before pulling on the collar of his flannel, smashing his lips into yours.

*fuck it.

the sheer taste of the other drove both of you insane. the mix of logan's coffee and tobacco contrasting with your sweet syrup and fruity taste was intoxicating. you pull back, needing to catch your breath. logan's lips moved south, sucking a dark purple bruise on your pulse point.

"better than i imaged." logan groans, obsessed with your every being.

"imagine si tu m'avais parlé plus tôt ?" you wink down at him.

*imagine if you had talked to me sooner?

logan chuckles, bending to pick you up. "love that mouth of yours, sweetheart. lets see what other languages it speaks."

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yanderenightmare · 10 months ago

Text

Geto Suguru & Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, dubcon, suggestiveness, pressuring, blindfolding

fem reader

Your boyfriend Suguru is really nonchalant when asking if you’d like to fuck his best friend, Satoru.

Obviously, you look up at him with an appalled grimace – a look of serious shock and animated disgust – before you snort out, “What kinda joke is that?”

He keeps on just as casually as before – stroking his fingers up and down your bare arm where you lie halfway against his chest, tucked close in the nook of his body. “I wouldn’t mind.” He says – blank eyes kept staring at his laptop as though he was actually paying attention to the sitcom the two of you were no longer watching.

Your grimace drops to a frown, sitting up and raising a brow at him. “You wouldn't mind if I cheated on you with your best friend?”

You ask it rhetorically, but he doesn’t take it as such. Arguing against it, “It’s not cheating if I allow it.”

It makes you go quiet, pouting now. Looking at him while trying to decipher his game. “Do you...” You approach carefully – not sure where this is all headed. “Do you want us to?”

“Why d'you ask?”

Your grimace returns at the dumb response – now looking a little pissy.

“Why me? Why’d you ask?” This is so typical of him. Suguru just loves baiting you into admitting things you don’t want to. But this time, he's got it wrong because you have no interest in Gojo. If you did, you wouldn’t be lying in bed with his friend, now would you?

“Satoru wants to fuck you.” Suguru cuts off your inner ramble, and your grimace softens again – now just looking at him in confusion.

“What makes you say that?” You ask, and he continues pretending to watch the plot thicken on screen.

Still just as casual, saying, “‘Cause he told me.”

You gape at him, and then you scoff – folding your arms against your chest with an additional huff. “The nerve on that guy, honestly.”

“So you don’t want to fuck him?” Suguru’s eyes finally slide off to glance at you, waiting for your reaction.

You return his gaze, and then you smile. "Oh, Suguru~" You hum in a sultry murmur.

Lifting the laptop, you set it aside softly on the bedside table, freeing up room on his lap for you to crawl on top.

He accepts the advance smoothly, placing his hands on your hips as you lean in to kiss him with that same smile – moaning into your mouth with a rugged shudder when your hand dives beneath the band of his sweats.

“All I want...” You whisper while taking him in your palm, giving him a light squeeze and a gentle tug before feeling it grow fat and warm under your touch. “Is to make you happy.”

A couple of days later, you come by only for Gojo to be there as well.

You're confused at first, but Suguru acts as though it was all something the three of you had planned – and so does his white-heard friend, who’s standing by his side with a wide grin on his face – halfway hidden behind the same unnerving blindfold as always.

And you don’t know how you all wind up there...

But the three of you are in the bedroom not long after.

Suguru is sitting in an armchair just next to the bed you’re kneeling on – while Gojo kneels parallel to you.

“Uhm... I don't know about this...” You say reluctantly, folding your arms in front of your body while looking to Suguru – anything to avoid eye contact with the half-naked guy sitting before you.

You had all stripped down to just underwear under your boyfriend’s command – but contrary to you, they'd been neither shocked, embarrassed, or uncomfortable with it.

Suguru gives you a gentle smile. “You said you wanted to make me happy.” His eyes are calm and suave, like always. “This would make me very happy.”

You look at him for a while, trying to find comfort for the anxious furl between your brows – then you glance at the other boy, but your eyes don’t even reach his before you immediately look away again – back to Suguru.

You swallow the dryness in your throat.

“I’m sorry, but... I don't understand this...” You whisper under your breath as though you wanted the conversation to be private – between just the two of you, despite the third member whose knees brushed yours. “Help me understand.”

“It’s simple.” Said third member interrupted, calling your gaze to his piercing blue one. “You’re his girlfriend, and I’m his best friend – we’re his two favorite people in the world. He just wants to see us get along…” He leans closer until his breath wafts across your face. “Can you do that?”

You dismiss his advance with a turn of your head, looking back at your boyfriend again. “Are you sure about this?”

He just gives you a secure smile in return. “I’m sure.”

And with the last reassurance, Gojo’s hands slide up your thighs, making you gasp. “You heard him.” He finalizes. And you, caught by surprise from the sudden contact, whip your head back to look at him with wide eyes only for his lips to meet yours.

You make a sound, then an additional louder one as he pushes his tongue inside along yours – quickly followed by him shuffling closer. With his hands grabbing your hips, he pulls you around his torso, making you fall back until you hit the bed flat.

You don’t know how you’re supposed to enjoy this – letting your boyfriend's best friend kiss and touch your body while he just sits still and watches the two of you in silence.

You try looking at him to see if he’s still as unshaken, but Gojo’s quick – much more aggressive than Suguru usually is.

The wetness of Gojo's tongue playing with yours makes your head so hot – chest pounding so fast you fear it might just bleed out in your chest. But he has no mercy, wasting no time – hooking your legs up around his hips before slipping his hand between them.

You felt something snap in your mind when he fingered the hem of your panties, or maybe it was your heart skipping a beat – either way – you broke the kiss off with a shove to his chest. Panting out, “No, stop-”

You prop yourself up and shuffle out from under his progressive touches. Breaths hitched as you wiped your mouth dry from his spit.

“I’m sorry, Suguru – I can’t do this...”

Feeling flushed, you were riddled with goosebumps from head to toe – still denying those searing bright blues you felt stare you through. Tucking your legs close to your chest, you wrapped your arms around them – waiting for any sort of consolation, any words to tell you it was okay, that it was a silly idea to begin with, that you absolutely don’t have to do anything you're not comfortable doing.

But nothing of the sort ever comes...

Instead, after a silence, your boyfriend’s hand reaches out to brush something along your leg.

You peek up – watery eyes blinking once, then twice to focus, until seeing the thing held in his hand.

“How ‘bout you wear this and pretend he’s me?” He proposes smoothly, still with a gentle smile shaping his face.

It’s Gojo’s blindfold.

“Would that make you feel better?”

You hesitate, sinking your teeth into your lip.

It takes a moment, but eventually, you give an ever so timid, “Okay...”

And again, you don’t know how the three of you get there… but not long after, you’re seated on Gojo’s lap with his fat cock nestled deep inside you, being bounced on him like a toy doll.

“Suguru~” You moan – but he's not the one who's gruffing out hot and heavy breaths against your neck while sucking fresh lovebites on top of the ones left there by your actual boyfriend a couple of days before.

“You’re real’ loyal – cryin’ out his name with my dick inside yah-” Gojo groans, squeezing your tits in both hands, tweaking your nipples until you whine out again, same name on your lips. “Aw, c’mon – won’t you cry like that fo’me too~”

Your legs are propped up on Suguru’s broad back. You can’t see him through the blindfold, but you recognize that tongue – laving at your clit with kitten licks and suckling kisses while Gojo pumps his full length inside you on every thrust.

“C’mon, you’ gon’ make me beg for it?” Gojo catches your mouth, making you share each other’s breath while sloppily feeding you his tongue. “C’mon, say my name~ it’s not that different – should roll just as easily off your tongue~”

He picks up the pace along with his pleas, punching your insides to mush – making you twist where you lie sweaty against his chest.

Hot air hits your slit with words from a tongue licking all the right nerves. “Go on, baby~ moan for him like you moan fo’me~”

It makes you shudder, feeling so hot and so awfully good – your feel a guilt telling you to deny it, but it’s simply unbearable. “Oh-fuck – Satoru~”

“Yes-yes-yes~” He chants at your ear, licking the shell of it while he slips off your blindfold to let you watch Suguru lick your clit like a puppy – his own cock kept lonely between his legs, leaking out onto the sheets – edged and red from the toll of it.

The sight makes you feel some type of way.

“Oh fuck – don't squeeze so tight, I’m gonna cum-” Gojo whines, holding you tighter while sinking in deep.

“Ew, no – pull out, pull out-” You protest, shaking your head while trying to wiggle out of the tight hug he's got you trapped in.

“No – I'll clean it out-” Comes an additional plea from beneath you. Suguru kisses the belly bulge made by Gojo’s fat cock, then licks a strip from the weight of his balls up to where he has your hole stretched around his girth, mouthing at it in moans while his nose rubs your clit. “Please, princess, let him cum inside~”

Both you and Gojo swallow thickly, panting in unison.

“How can you say no to that?” He asks against your ear.

Your thighs shake while you whine, “Ugh~ fine – but someone’s buying a pill.”

Suguru only hums, laying his tongue flat against your clit again, knowing exactly what to do to time your orgasm with the flood of cum that soon splurged your insides with creamy white.

Gojo grunts with the release, and you quake, milking it out of him until he winces from the overstimulation – sloshing out while heaving for air.

You sigh, but before you can come all the way down, Suguru’s filling the vacancy with himself – making you suck it up again as he bullies his way inside in a series of quick-timed pumps before he's filling you up with his own thick mess.

He takes your face and kisses you despite you both being too breathless to sustain it for long, left to huff short puffs of air on one another’s wet lips.

He rests his forehead on yours until your pussy’s squeezed him free of the last drop, then swallows thickly.

There's a grating chuckle. “Don’t know if a pill’s gonna help...”

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