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etherealising · 2 days ago

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three | dinner with the berzattos

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairing: carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | fem!reader x original male character | the bear x fem!reader

summary: you do your best to make the most of the holiday, but instead find carmy is the topic of your conversations. and being under the same roof as him does nothing to help...oh well at least it's almost time for dinner, what more could go wrong?

warning(s): angst | fluff | pining | semi-unrequited love | minimally edited

wc: 6.8k

housekeeping: wowza long time no see! so sorry for just disappearing it was definitely not in my plans but here we are. firstly thank you everyone for sticking by me through all the back and forth of me being gone and randomly coming back. also updates will continue to be sporadic i want to try and post a chapter at least once or twice a month, so this way i can get a backlog going. other than that enjoy this update 🫶🏼

The sound of laughter could be heard through the door of Donna’s bedroom. The two women occupying it caught up with each other like no time passed at all. You were lying on the end of Donna’s bed, elbow propped up so your hand could hold your head up. Tiff was in front of you sitting up slightly from you adjusting her pillows when you first appeared in the room.

“Wait so Richie blew up your mom’s microwave?” The words came out between the laughs that wracked Tiffany’s body. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she listened to your account of the story.

You sat up rapidly head nodding to confirm Tiff’s question, “Exactly, Mikey volunteered to pick my mom and me up from her chemo appointment, and Richie bless his soul was trying to make dinner for us.” You paused as you couldn’t stop giggling at the memory, “He couldn’t find any plates, so he put fucking foil in the microwave, and by the time we got home the house was full of smoke and there were scorch marks on the wall.” You couldn’t help but to lean over clenching your stomach at the belly-aching laugh the memory induced. Tiff doing no better, hand gently cradling her bump as she tried to catch her breath.

Finally getting enough air into her lungs Tiff spoke up, “Wha-What did your mom do?” She searched your eyes waiting to hear your explanation.

Your laughter finally settled down allowing you to finish your story, “Absolutely nothing! My mom was so sweet on Richie he could’ve burnt the house down and she would’ve thanked him for it!” The laughter in the room took over once again as the two of you imagined how much your mom’s little crush inflated Richie’s ego.

The two of you finally calmed down sitting in the ambience that a memory from your younger years left behind. Tiff did her best to sit up, careful not to move too quickly in case it induced a bout of nausea. Her hands reached out gently clasping yours in her embrace, “I’m sorry she couldn’t be here with us today.” The slight squeeze she sent you helped convey the raw emotion she felt, the small sad smile gracing her lips also doing its best to comfort you.

You nodded, sending a small smile her way, eyes quickly leaving hers to dart around the room, not comfortable enough to see the earnestness in her blue eyes. You cleared your throat trying to ground yourself, “You expect it to get easier, but it always hits the hardest around the holidays especially when I’m not spending it with all of you.” You let out a pathetic little laugh doing your best to not let the gloomy feeling settle over the room.

You squeezed Tiff’s hands back finally finding her eyes again, “Speaking of, I took up one of her traditions and I made something for you, well the baby.” You watched as Tiff let out a quiet gasp, she’d met your mom a handful of times when she and Richie first began dating and the two always bonded over all of the things your mom used to sew and crochet before it became too much for her ailing health. You recalled how she fell in love with the baby blanket your mom made for you when she was pregnant, wishing her relationship with her mom brought forth such love.

Before you could get up to retrieve the present from the car, the bedroom door opened as Hayden let himself into the room. “Well, aren’t you two just a pair of cute gossipers?”

His demeanor made you frown, his posture was more relaxed, words almost slow as he spoke them, and a dopey grin lined his lips as he looked between you and Tiff.

“Are you high?” Your voice was incredulous as you watched Hayden cover his giggles behind his hand, the idea of Hayden being high wasn’t something new to you, he introduced you to recreational drugs in the first place. But seeing him high on Christmas made you realize just how severely he was taking the break-up with Sasha and maybe you were a bad friend because you’d been so cut up about reuniting with Carmy that you hadn’t stopped to think about the facade he was putting on.

Tiff patted the space between the two of you inviting Hayden to join you. Hayden happily clapped his hands together before moving towards the bed, he walked around the foot of the bed and crawled atop it before resting his head in your lap, his mop of hair tickling your legs as his body took up most of the space left.

“Awe, what’s got you so mopey Hay Hay.” Hayden let out a giggle as Tiff used the nickname he randomly earned senior year of high school.

Hayden took a while before answering, something you were all too familiar with when it came to an intoxicated Hayden. He let out a dramatic sigh before beginning to trace patterns into the duvet. “Sasha’s leaving me…but it’s okay I have a new wife already lined up!”

His hand reached up to poke you on the forehead, and the force of it sent your head backward, Tiff gave you a confused look prompting an explanation, and now that you knew who exactly Carmy assumed you were married to you could give a full explanation. “Richie told Carmy Hayden and I were married,” her mouth fell open in a gasp as she nodded “Sounds like Hayden was in on it though.” Your voice held an undertone of annoyance earning a quiet ‘whoopsie’ from the man-child in your lap.

“Wait and he believed him?”

Tiff’s question need only be answered with a single look alone, “He tried to use it as some bullshit excuse against our friendship. Like what the fuck does being married have to do with the two of us trying to be friends again?”

It was almost unnoticeable but you quickly caught on to the look Hayden and Tiff shared between themselves followed by Hayden's giggle letting you know you weren’t in on their secret. “No, what the hell was that?”

“What was what?” Tiff’s words were uttered around the saltine she began chewing on as she tried to avoid the way your eyes narrowed in on her. “Pregnancy brain?”

“You’re pregnant, not stupid.”

Hayden’s guffaw of a laugh surprised you as his body shook atop yours causing you to shake right along with him. “Oh you naive, silly, stupid little girl,” Hayden took his time sitting up somehow maneuvering his tall frame into criss-cross applesauce in the small space atop the bed, you had no time to object before his hands engulfed both sides of your face and he pressed his forehead against yours. “The kids been in love with you our whole lives, my sweet summer child.”

You scoffed shoving the man off of you as Tiff’s giggles mixed with Hayden’s hysterical laughter filled the room, the man had plopped back onto the bed in a raucous fashion, at least Tiff was trying to hide her amusement.

“One adjective would’ve worked just fine Hayden,” you tossed one of the pillows that fell to the floor at his head, only encouraging his laughter. A huff of annoyance left you as you watched the two adults look at each other conspiratorially once more before deciding to call it quits.

You listened as Tiff tried to get an apology out over Hayden’s laughter as you shook your head trying to keep a strong front but slowly failing. “I’m gonna go get your present…keep an eye on him I guess, please.”

Tiff nodded, waving you off before she spoke in Hayden’s direction, the last thing you heard was your name before shutting the door once more.

You made your way downstairs, laughter and loud voices came from the direction of the living room. Walking to the closet where you knew Carmy put your tote bag you quickly grabbed your keys and debated slipping your coat on before ultimately deciding it wouldn’t be necessary. You could hear Mikey’s voice as you made your way out the door, he and Richie recounting one of their many tales. You quickly slipped through the door making sure it closed behind you to not let any cold air in.

Rushing to your rental you popped the trunk reaching for the Christmas-themed gift bag. You reached up to shut your trunk wanting to hurry and get back inside when your eyes landed on the matte black box sitting there. A matching black bow atop it, the white ink that spelled out Carmy’s name glared back at you.

You let go of the trunk letting out an exasperated sigh. You hadn’t planned on buying him anything, but in the weeks leading up to your flight, you let your anxiety guide you after Nat dropped the bomb that Carmy would be home for Christmas and spent hours scouring the internet for something he might like. Against your better judgment, you closed the trunk, you’d give it to Mikey or Nat to hand off to him, you weren’t in any mood to pretend things between the two of you were okay. The sound of another car door closing caught your attention, Pete made his way towards you from across the street letting you glimpse at the Christmas lights on your childhood home, his hand went up in a little wave to greet you. You smiled, raising your hand holding the car keys to return his greeting.

Deciding to wait for him so you could walk in together, your eyes took in the aluminum tray grasped in his hands, “Oh shit.” The expletive left your lips as Pete finally took his place by your side, his goofy grin drew your gaze, and he balanced the tray in one hand to give you a side hug that you willingly leaned into. “Baby! I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!” You snorted at his lame joke considering you were boarding at his house. The two of you began your trek up the sidewalk.

“Oh Pete, your dad jokes never get old, but what’s in the tray?” You nodded your head at the silver rectangle in his hands.

Pete followed your vision before smiling back at you “Tuna casserole! Couldn’t come empty-handed you know.” Pete’s happy-go-lucky energy brought a small smile to your face, and the two of you stopped before entering the house. You turned to him, giving him a serious look before you reached out to gently squeeze his bicep.

“Oh you poor kind soul, they’re gonna fuck you up in there.” The words caused Pete’s smile to falter as you sent him one of your own before walking through the door and holding it open for Pete behind you. As you both walked through the front entrance you caught the tail end of what sounded like a hostile conversation, Pete helping to steal the show by making his presence known. You had half the mind to leave Pete to defend himself, but a part of you would’ve felt bad for letting someone as sweet as Pete take the heat alone. You walked around him sitting on the arm of the chair Mikey was sitting in, his arm moved to wrap around your waist unconsciously.

“You know it’s seven fishes, right Pete?” Mikey’s question drew the rest of the room's attention to the tray Pete was still happily holding. The room burst with voices as almost everyone took turns berating him. You leaned back slightly so you weren’t blocking Mikey’s view before turning your head in Richie’s direction hoping to gain his attention.

You reached behind Mikey’s back to pinch Richie’s arm his eyebrows shooting up an offended look on his features as his head turned to you, “What the fuck was that for Baby? Pete’s the one with the eighth fish.”

You rolled your eyes, palm swatting against the back of his neck, “That’s for letting Carmy think I was married…and to Hayden of all people.” Richie had the decency to look sheepish as he gave you an apologetic smile.

“I mean it was funny at that moment.” He raised his hands in surrender as you reached out to pinch him once more.

A small smile pulled at your lips as you maneuvered the gift bag around Mikey’s imposing body before handing it off to Richie, “Merry Christmas Richie, it's for you and Tiff so don’t open it without her,” You scolded, raising your eyebrows to further cement your message. “I know Mom would’ve done the same if she was still here.” You gave him the warmest smile you could muster.

He gently grabbed the gift bag out of your hand, a slight nod sent in your direction as he gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “Thank you, Baby, means a lot.” You smiled back quickly, turning back to the conversation, not wanting to get caught up in any more unwanted emotions.

Carmy’s voice suddenly broke through the onslaught of shit Pete was being subjected to, “Hey, family. Come on, let’s sit. Okay, dinner’s ready, alright.” Your eyes connected with his baby blues before you quickly looked away playing with Mikey’s fingers as they rested atop your thigh, leaning down when the older man began to whisper in your ear. Missing the way Carmy frowned at the glaringly obvious lack of ring on your finger.

Carmy did his best not to let the sight bother him, it wasn’t any of his business whether or not you wore your ring. Mikey gave him some cryptic ass advice in the pantry earlier about you, that he shouldn’t blindly trust everything he heard and instead should ask you himself, something Carmy tried and failed at doing once already today. The longer he stared at you he couldn’t help but wonder why you and Mikey were so touchy and where the hell was Hayden.

You hadn’t noticed Carmy’s eyes glued to you as you exchanged hushed whispers with Mikey, “Any chance on you and that idiot kissing and making up by the end of Christmas dinner?” Mikey’s words caressed your ears as he allowed you to distract yourself with his fingers.

A small shrug was your only response as you took a moment to gather your thoughts, “I want to Mikey, I do but now that I’ve seen him after all this time, I don’t think I can take just being friends with him anymore.”

Mikey’s quiet sigh rang through your ears as his other hand came to trap yours between his palms and give it a firm squeeze, “Baby.”

He had that tone in his voice again, like he was trying to get something through to you but you were just too stubborn to hear it, or worse you didn’t want to hear it. “Please don’t Mikey…it doesn’t mean anything when its not actually coming from the one person I want to hear it from.” You decided not to tack on the part about the feelings not being reciprocated because you knew it would annoy Mikey.

“I won’t force you to say anything tonight, but you gotta get this over with at some point.” Mikey gave your hand one last squeeze, “Plus m'not into all of that sappy shit but I’m rooting for you fuckin’ idiots.” Mikey let go of your hand before gently knocking his fist against your chin sending a wink your way and earning your quiet giggle.

“Yo Baby, Baby.” Your head shot up, eyes locking on Carmy’s as he called for your attention, “What is that? What the fuck is Pete holding?” You quickly looked at Pete feeling bad that he was on trial before finding Carmy’s eyes again, a small smile spread your lips as you sent a shrug in his direction, not wanting to be the one to rat Pete’s good intentions out.

Carmy nodded, lips pursing as he wiped his hands down his face and turned his attention to Stevie knowing he’d give him a straight answer, “You’re gonna be upset, but his heart was in the right place, Carm…It’s a tuna casserole.” The slight flush you could see creeping up Carmy’s neck indicated the toll this mishap was taking on him.

You leaned into Mikey more, settling into a more comfortable position as you drowned out the rest of Pete’s trial. You were ready for the day to be over and you hadn’t even eaten dinner yet, you could feel your eyes slowly drifting shut as Mikey’s warm body pressed into your side, each rise and fall of his broad chest pulling you into the purgatory before sleep and consciousness.

The sound of Nat’s voice jumping onto the tuna casserole bandwagon roused you from the little peacefulness you were beginning to find, she'd been so dead set on keeping her mom in check you'd only caught glimpses of her throughout the day. You watched with drowsy eyes as she snatched the dish from Pete’s hands presumably disposing of it, you softly gave Mikey’s thigh a pat before removing yourself from your seat with the intention of retrieving your fake husband and Tiff.

You stopped at the threshold of the door sending Pete a small smile, “If it makes you feel better Donna threatened to beat my mom’s ass when we showed up with collard greens and baked Mac n cheese our first Christmas here.” You gave a soft pat to his elbow hoping the anecdote helped him feel a little better.

As you moved to walk up the stairs you stopped to return the car keys to your tote bag.

Carmy stopped in the doorway of the kitchen as he found you standing in the hallway, he had half a mind to hide out in the kitchen until you left but knew he’d probably get shit from his mom about it.

He cleared his throat, gaining your attention as he took a few steps forward to lessen the distance between you. His hand raised to scratch the back of his neck, eyes not meeting yours as he prepared himself to interact with you, “Ahem, I uh I overheard what you said to Pete. I-I never got to say it in person but I uh, I’m sorry about your mom.”

You stared at Carmen surprised by the sincerity in his words as though your mom had passed recently, you gave him a small smile trying to dispel the sadness that began to swell up in you, “It's not like you killed her Carm, that's why they call it a terminal illness.”

Carmy’s eyebrows pinched together at your poor attempt at being humorous before he began picking at the loose thread on the sleeve of his sweater. “Did you uh get the flowers and t-the card?”

A small smile lined your lips as you thought back to the gesture before you nodded at him letting him know you received his condolences years ago.

“I uh I tried coming home b-but uh...Mikey fought me on it.”

You nodded as Carmy met your gaze, “I know Carm, I asked him not to let you,” you watched as he opened his mouth to protest. “You’d already gotten out, Carm, I couldn’t bring you back here…you know my mom was really proud of you though, right?” You smiled as his eyebrows raised in surprise at your question, your hand shot out before you thought better of it to grasp his and stop him fiddling with the thread.

A quiet sigh escaped him as your skin made contact with his, Carmy’s hand flexed against your palm letting his fingers gently press against yours as he fought off the urge to lace them together.

“I wanted you there Carm I did, but I was hurt and I didn’t know if I could grieve my mom with you by my side knowing how you felt about me.” Your hand dropped from where it delicately touched him as you sent him a small sad smile.

“Baby I-,”

You cut him off, not in the right mindset to get into whatever he was offering, you took a step back to the staircase creating distance between the two of you. “M’gonna get Tiff and Hayden for dinner, I’ll see you in there.”

Carmen was left alone at the bottom of the staircase, eyes still glued to where you stood just a moment ago. He closed his eyes trying to get a deep breath into his lungs. Carmy was trying to understand how he had ever deserved to have you in his life, he was a grade-A fucking asshole to you, and you were still nothing but kind to him. There were so many things Carmy wished he could do over when it came to you but life seemed to be leading the two of you in opposite directions and he wasn’t sure he’d ever get the chance to redeem himself.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I can call you a cab if you want.” You stood at the top of the staircase huddled against the wall with Hayden. Tiff exited the room ahead of Hayden and kindly let you know that they’d got to talking about Hayden’s pending divorce and that whatever high he was cruising on had taken a drastic turn as the sadness he was trying so hard to hide surfaced.

As you looked at him you could tell he wasn’t doing well, and whether he was having a bad trip or the emotions of his situation were finally beginning to hit him you couldn’t be sure. You reached out for his hand gripping it in yours and giving it a squeeze letting him know you were there for him.

His silence gave you a moment to think. It was surprising how far your relationship had come, the two of you having only met senior year of high school and bonded over your love for literature. Neither of you thought the friendship would blossom into what it was now, but after your falling out with Carmy, in a way, he filled the other man’s spot. Even after everything Carmy put you through you would always consider him your best friend but Hayden was a close second, having helped you during one of the roughest years of your life after your moms passing, he was your rock and you loved him for that. The least you could do now was return the favor and be there for him as much as you could.

Hayden’s hand squeezing yours brought you back to reality as your eyes landed on his face, a small forced smile already waiting. “You worry about me too much.”

You rolled your eyes, raising your eyebrows and imploring an actual answer out of him. He pulled you into a hug resting his chin atop your head, “We sure know how to pick 'em’ don’t we?”

A quiet laugh sounded from you at his words, the noise earned a chuckle from the man pressed against you. “Let’s just enjoy Christmas dinner, yeah.” You felt Hayden’s head move up and down in a nod before he released you and motioned for you to walk down the stairs ahead of him.

By the time you made it to the dining room everyone was seated and the only empty seats were directly across from Carmy so it wasn’t like you had any other choice but to dine with him in your eyeline. You walked in slowly at the commotion as Hayden moved to sit down, your eyes locked with Carmy’s at the same time something aggressively hit your thigh, causing you to wince.

A chorus of “Michael” reverberated around the dining room. You looked down at the sound of metal clanging against metal, one fork was next to your foot another a little ways in front of it. Bending down you scooped the two forks up in your hand. You looked around the table even more confused than you already were eyes darting to Mikey as he threw his arms open in greeting, “Baby! Nice of you and Hayden to join us, mind doing me a favor and handing me those forks?” Your eyes flashed to the forks in your hand before taking in everyone’s expressions around the table.

You had no clue what you walked into. You looked in Carmy and Nat’s direction, the two of them subtly shaking their heads, Hayden turned in his chair before shrugging his shoulders at you just as clueless as you were. Your eyes found Mikey’s once again a little unnerved by the look in his eyes, “They were just on the floor so I’ll just go wash them off real quick-.”

The sound of palms slamming against the table cut off your explanation causing you to flinch where you stood, eyes still glued to Mikey, “Sorry Baby, I’m sorry,” his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Just hand me the forks alright, don't needa wash ‘em off,” You gulped, nodding slowly as you took a few steps in Mikey’s direction. He carefully took them from your grip, and a mocking smile pulled at his lips.

You gave him a small nod quickly retreating to your seat. Quietly thanking Hayden as he helped you to shuffle your chair in. All was silent for a moment as everyone looked at each other, you doing everything in your power to avoid anyone’s eyes. A quiet laugh broke the silence.

“Of fucking course.”

Mikey’s eyes snapped back to Lee's zeroing in on the older man, “What did you just say?” The question sounded more like a demand to your ears.

Lee laughed again shrugging his shoulders and turning his head to glare at Mikey, “I said of course she’s gonna fucking do what you say the girl has no fucking backbone.”

An echo of “Lee,” and “What the fuck,” could be heard from both Richie and Cicero, one trying to diffuse the situation, the other not settling for the unwarranted disrespect thrown at you. Your head shot up a frown decorating your features as your eyes locked on Carmy’s, he shook his head in a silent plea for you to ignore it and not further feed into the chaos.

You ignored Carmy turning in your chair to face the geriatric old man, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean Lee?” Hayden’s fingers began drumming against the table. His stiff posture let you know he was ready for whatever was about to happen after noticing your irritation.

Lee faced you with a sardonic smile pressing into his lips “Is somebody gonna tell her? Do I have to tell her?” He looked around the table looking for anyone to take the reins from him, “I’m sorry that nobody's honest with you sweetheart, but you’re just a glorified lap dog.” He shrugged his shoulders as if in apology, “Just a bitch he keeps on a leash.”

Your mouth opened a little bit confused as to how this conversation became a personal attack on you.

The sound of Hayden kissing his teeth silenced whatever rebuttal you had planned. “Watch the way you fucking talk to her.” The calmness of his voice let you know he had the situation handled, not even looking at the older man as he addressed him.

Nat’s quiet call of your name pulled your attention to her. Her eyebrows sat high on her head as she implored you to do something about your guest with one look. You gave her a small nod before turning to try and stop Hayden, ignoring the way Carmy’s eyes followed your every move.

“Oh and you’re her lap dog then I guess!”

Hayden’s humorless chuckle punctuated the air, no one dared to speak, you were surprised to find both Mikey and Richie silent in the moment. “Listen, Lee. I don’t particularly fucking like you, but you’re lucky I respect Ms. Berzatto enough to not ruin the Christmas dinner she prepared for all of us. Now if I gotta beat your ass after dinner, fine by me but whatever animosity you got towards anyone at this table you leave Baby the fuck outta it.”

Lee’s irritated scoff was the only response given as a tense silence fell over the dinner table. Hayden’s hand gave your elbow a squeeze letting you know he was always in your corner.

You felt something hit your foot under the table gaining your attention. You turned to Nat who was keeping an eye on Mikey too worried about him popping off again to be paying attention to you. You felt the nudge again, eyes finding Carmen's, his eyebrows raised in a silent question, eyes searching your face to catch any remaining emotions, you smoothed out the frown on your face sending him a small nod to let him know you were fine.

The two of you were drawn back to the argument before you as the two men began berating each other again, voices growing louder by the second thankfully your name hadn’t come up again. You watched Mikey’s face lose any sort of emotion as Lee accused him of being medicated as your eyebrows drew into a frown confusion raced through you at the accusation. You felt your heart squeeze in your chest at Mikey’s reaction the sudden thought that the older man’s words had any truth to them felt like a betrayal to the man you considered a brother.

The table remained silent; the only sound filling the room was the ticking of a clock in the background, everyone did their best to not cause any reasons to incite more violence. The anxiety caused you to bounce your leg up and down unsure as to where the rest of this night was going, Hayden completely zoned out so even though he was right next to you, you felt alone unsure of what to do with yourself. You felt a foot gently tap the toe of your shoe, something Carmy used to do whenever you needed reassurance that everything would be okay and other forms of physical contact were impossible. His feet spread apart so you could reach across and slip your feet between his like a security blanket, a piece of protection you never realized you wanted until it was offered.

You turned your head, watching as Mikey pawned Pete’s fork from its set place, an uproar going around the table pleading with Mikey. You sat there silently watching the scene, if ten other people hadn’t already gotten through to Mikey, you were sure an eleventh voice joining the mix would be completely useless at this point.

Natalie’s voice cut through the chaos attention zeroed in on Mikey, “Michael. Please don’t do this.” You watched as Mikey focused his attention on his little sister, “I love you.” It was her final plea as Mikey seemed to be weighing his options. The discourse between the two continued as everybody watched with bated breath waiting to see what the next move would be.

Steve’s unwarranted giggle broke Michael’s focus, his rush of apologies being brushed off by Mikey all in the name of fun. Cicero decided he might be the one to finally get through to Mikey playing his hand as mediator. You watched Mikey’s erratic behavior in silence, you weren’t usually privy to this side of Mikey, never being in town long enough to experience it in person, always being told about them on phone calls with Nat. It scared you, and it wasn’t necessarily Mikey that was scaring you but knowing that his switch could be flipped in such a timely manner that had you worrying about his safety.

The argument was nowhere near resolved as Lee’s constant instigating kept fueling the fire. Mikey’s sudden movement to stand up caused your heart to race, you honestly couldn’t give two shits about Lee’s well-being, your only concern was Mikey and what was going through his head at that moment.

You held your head in your hands that were propped up on the table by your elbows, the impending headache beginning to make an appearance. The animal noises coming from Mikey’s direction do nothing to ease the ache behind your eyes. You did your best to drown out the two men.

The clapping around the table drew your head up as Donna danced into the dining room, you felt so exhausted you couldn’t even muster up a fake smile to appease her. “What did I miss?” Donna laughed as she made her way to her seat, a quiet “nothing” being her answer. “I missed something,” she said while sitting in her designated spot.

Donna’s eyes landed on Hayden as she let out another laugh “Jesus you look fucking miserable Hayden. I missed something.” You felt Hayden sit up in his chair as his elbow bumped into yours watching as he forced his lips into a pathetic smile, his hand absentmindedly playing with the fork that was sitting on the placemat.

“Not much Misses. B, just defending my wife’s honor from that cunt Lee.”

You rolled your eyes as the man threw his arm around you before leaning in to press a dramatic wet kiss into your temple, your hand quickly shot up to wipe the leftover evidence on your sleeve. A quiet wince escaped your lips as Carmy’s foot clumsily stepped on yours, noticing how he avoided eye contact with you.

Murmured confusion scattered around the table aside from Richie’s awkward choked laugh as Tiff glared at him, any hope for a somewhat peaceful family dinner squandered by Hayden’s remark. All eyes flocked to Donna as she let out a full belly laugh, hand coming down to hit the table. The same hand moved up to point at you and Hayden, “Now that’s fucking funny Hayden, the two of you…married! Carmy would die before he let that happen!” A shit-eating grin stretched across Hayden’s face as he sent a wink to the matriarch, watching as her laughter went on for a few moments longer before Carmy awkwardly cleared his throat at her words, his legs moving from against yours ever so slightly as you frowned in confusion at what the older woman meant trying to gain Carmy’s attention only for him to shift his focus to the other end of the table.

“Uh, Stevie, Stevie’s about to say grace, Ma,” Mikey interjected trying to stir Christmas dinner back on its rightful course, Donna looked appeased, eyes happily finding Stevie’s figure as she waited for him to begin. A small back and forth between Mikey and Stevie ensued before the latter began his prayer.

“Um…Hey. Uh.. that we’re all…” Michelle’s laugh interrupted her partner causing you to anxiously laugh but quickly stop at the soft pinch on your thigh earned from Nat. You fell silent as you listened to Stevie give what seemed more like an awkward ramble rather than a prayer.

You could feel Carmy’s eyes darting across your figure as Stevie gave his explanation of what he thought the seven fishes symbolized. “I think that spending time and using that time on the people that we love is how we show them that we love them.” You looked up in that moment, eyes connecting with Carmy’s piercing blue ones. Neither of you gave into the urge to look away, instead drinking each other in like two plants feeling the first drop of rain after a drought.

Your gazes were both drawn away by Donna’s quiet sniffles, a chorus of praises sent in her direction to calm her aching heart.

“You okay?” Natalie’s question caused you to flop back in your chair, eyes clenched shut, followed by Hayden’s quiet sigh. You knew all Nat had was good intentions and would always be the first one to put Donna’s mental well-being first, but you also knew what it felt like to feel so overstimulated that those two measly words would send you in a downward spiral.

“Do you know how much I fucking hate it when you ask me that? Do I not look okay Natalie?” Donna’s mood shifted just as quickly as it had been the whole day. Her unknown limit was reached in a minute.

“Not really.” Michelle’s subtle shade drew a hardly restrained laugh out of you, “Oh, fuck you Michelle.” Donna snapped before setting her sights on you, “Is something funny Baby? Hmm?” The question caused the lingering smile to immediately drop your back going straight against the chair, your head quickly shaking back and forth, clearing before answering Donna.

“No, sorry I’m just nervous.” You admitted head still on a swivel to ease Donna’s agitation.

You glanced at Carmy, his whole being sunken in as he looked at you as if your existence was exhausting him at this moment. Regardless of Carmen’s look you know your mom would’ve crucified your ass for walking into Donna Berzatto’s house and feeling comfortable enough to disrespect her not only to her face but with a bunch of her peers around.

“Are you motherfuckers okay?” Donna continued letting her subdued rage out the table silent to not enrage her any further. “Fuck you!” The smashing of glass as the plate hit the ground caused you to flinch, your leg knocking into Carmy’s from the sudden noise, his knee tapping yours twice to reassure you everything would be fine.

Donna made her exit while berating Natalie, who sat there speechless unaware of why her need to make sure her mom was well was taken as a personal attack. Lee’s unprovoked comment about Donna’s tirade irritated you along with Michelle’s comment about it being her worst moment.

It was funny to you how each and everyone sitting at this table would drag themselves here every year. To sit in Donna’s house, to eat Donna’s food. To reap the rewards of the countless hours of Donna’s hard work, only to dismiss her because she had become so overstimulated the only reaction she knew to give was unadulterated rage.

You saw Mikey’s hand move before the fork flew across the table narrowly missing Lee’s head, surprised to find yourself tucked against Hayden’s body as a form of protection just in case. The older man jumped up no longer tolerating the eldest Berzatto’s antics, Mikey followed suit the clattering of the dishes loud as he threw his side of the table. The two men tried to get to each other, you let Hayden know you were okay so he could help keep Mikey from abusing Lee.

Silence encompassed the room at the sound of a car driving through the side of the house, before the whole room was in an uproar once more. You stood up from your seat mouth dropping open at the Mercedes Benz now sitting in the dining room. Mikey’s voice shouted at Donna to open the door as Nat tightly grasped your hand trying to ground herself. She and Carmy were the only two remaining guests still sitting. Natalie’s tightening grasp on your hand drew your attention to the two younger Berzatto’s watching as Nat did her best to internalize what was happening while Carmy stared blankly past you.

Your head was pounding at that point, the small headache from earlier now felt more like a migraine. You slipped your hand from Nat’s grasp removing yourself from the dining room as quietly as you could, you quickly walked to the front door. Every bone in your body was screaming at you to walk out that door and not come back, to protect your peace. You plopped down on the porch step head resting against your knees. As much as you wanted to run, your heart wouldn’t allow you to leave the Berzatto siblings to this mess alone.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fic #the bear x reader #the bear x you #carmy the bear x reader #aiekoy rewrite

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germhammy · 1 day ago

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“Post Hyde meeting pt 2”

Wednesday’s eyes rolled back she turned to face the person behind her

Wednesday: Goody

Goody: hello Wednesday. I am sorry to invade your mind like this.

Wednesday: you said you would give me time to choose whether or not I wish you to guide me.

Goody: I did. And I also said I would share what happened here unconditionally. I am truly sorry for the night terrors and torment my story caused you

Wednesday: it was horrible. And not in a good way. But I have a better understanding of things. And why my mother warned me of you

Goody: I have seen what you’ve done. Pilgrim World. The clearing and cleansing of the meeting house of present day nuisances. Thank you

Wednesday: you are welcome.

Goody: have you made any progress on your decision?

Wednesday: I have eliminated one. Too much like my mother’s sister Ophelia to my liking. Mixed with a dark twisted mind that makes me look like a beautiful rainbow. The other has been distant. Refusing to come when appropriate or convenient. I know that sometimes a lesson come at will but I have not seen her since that day she first reached out.

Goody: I see. I am still willing to stay in contact with you, Wednesday. Given the care you have taken to bring our history back to Jericho. Regardless of your decision, as long as it pertains to Jericho. We are willing to help you tonight

Wednesday: We? -seeing a group of spirts manifest behind her ancestor. She recognized Goody’s mother and the others who perished in the meeting house- Thank you

Grimhild: thank you, Wednesday for bringing my daughter back to me. And for returning Jericho to us

Wednesday: there is a long way to go for that. Centuries of praising Crackstone cannot be easily erased.

Grimhild: and some will never stop. But we have been tortured tormented spirits for so long.

Wednesday: hatred burns deep. Our families are a true testament to that.

Grimhild: indeed. But one must remember never to let the hatred consume you -looking at her daughter-

Outside of Wednesday’s mind in the real world

Xavier: hello? Earth to Wednesday? -waving his hand in front of Wednesday’s face- hello?

Granny Frump: Xavier! Stop at once! Leave my granddaughter alone! Interruption of a spiritual trance can be detrimental

Xavier: oh please. Cut the spiritual crap. Wednesday is just being dramatic like she always is! All you you are complicit in perpetuating her behavior

Granny Frump: how are you even Vincent Thorpe’s son? While Billie and I never did agree with his choice to go commercial with his psychic abilities? He does still maintain a bit of respect. You have shown very little

Xavier: oh please. -grabbing Wednesday and shaking her-

In the spirt world

Goody: we cannot do a lot to affect the real world. But we can provide a spiritual barrier. There is still much fear in our village. But we are healing. Thank you again for the cleansing ritual before they tore the meeting house down

Wednesday: Jericho must be allowed to thrive and heal. If I allow you to enter me? Could you use you—

Wednesday was ripped out of her trance by Xavier’s shaking. She was in a daze

Morticia took her daughter back.

Morticia: how dare you! -slapping Xavier across the face-

Wednesday was disoriented. Her eyes were still glazed over but Morticia could tell she was in an in between state. The best course of action was to try and bring her back

Morticia: Wednesday? My little rain cloud? Come back.

Granny Frump: Wenny.

Wednesday’s eyes rolled back to normal.

Wednesday: mother. Granny

Xavier: You slapped me!

Wednesday: I did no such thing! But if I did? You probably deserved it and I should have done it long ago but Enid would not have liked that

Xavier: so you obey Enid like a little puppy? I thought she was the dog. I thought you were a raven

Wednesday balled up her fist and punched Xavier in the face. Just off center of his nose enough to make him bleed but not break it

Morticia: WEDNESDAY!

Wednesday: I told you, Xavier. NEVER MOCK ME OR MY PAIN! I have had enough of you! Next time? I will not pull my punches!

#wednesday addams #enid sinclair #enid x wednesday #wenclair #wednsday addams #enid and wednesday #wednesday x enid #wenclair au #xavier thorpe #mortica addams

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stopmyhearts · 2 days ago

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okay. Romana self harm thoughts. Under a cut because of subject matter but yeah. I warn you now this shit is explicit, if you read it that's not my responsibility

So, Romana is so traumatized that it isn't really a question on if she hurts yourself, but rather how and when she starts. The easy answer would be during or after Etra Prime but I'm a big supporter of the 'Romana has always been somewhat fucked up' idea so I think it started earlier. My girl is a psych major (to me at least) and accordingly a bit wrong in the head. I don't think she does it in a truly concerning amount pre-Etra Prime, but like. She's tried it a couple of times in the academy. It's not as if anyone on Gallifrey would see, anyways. I think she just wants to see what it's like, and she's got a bit of a morbid curiosity. She's just fascinated by the blood (I'd say she tries some cuts probably), she doesn't actually want to hurt herself, it's not a coping mechanism. So when she joins the Doctor she hasn't hurt herself in several years, if not decades, and the adventures scratch any itch that might be scratched by cutting as well. I think maybe, placing 'the Doctor's first XI' just before Destiny of the Daleks, she does it occasionally there. Again, not often, and it's more boredom than anything, but staying a century or longer in one place, surrounded by all these terribly traumatized people, that's going to do a number on your mental health, Time Lord or not. And I think that makes it easier too, for her to choose to regenerate, to shorten her lifespan like that, because that is definitely, if not a suicide, either a sacrifice or significant act of self-harm.

And I think that does scare Romana II. Like, she plays it all off as a joke, but I think deep down she knows that's serious and it scares her off. So she throws away any tools she may have previously used, and stops. I still think maybe if she gets overwhelmed she presses her fingernails into her palms a little too hard or she chews her lips until she accidentally draws blood sometimes but nothing more than that.

And then we come to Etra Prime. Obviously she gets hurt constantly there, so I don't think she adds to that without cause. But she does keep trying to escape, I think, like she doesn't want to live anymore but more than anything she wants to stop being hurt. And I think she's willing to risk more pain for a chance to escape. And to spare other people too, if she can. I don't think she ever loses that compassion, but it is very hard because she has to weigh the suffering in front of her eyes against the potential suffering out in the universe, so she never gives up her secrets.

Post-Etra Prime, I believe she has a lot of chronic pain to deal with, and is desperate for control. Control over herself, over the people around her, over all of Gallifrey. And her physical pain and disability are things she can't control, so I think she gets some control from inflicting pain on herself. Maybe she did so on Etra Prime too, I don't know. Pressing on scars until they hurt, twisting her knee just so, scratching at bumpy scars to make them less noticeable, overdoing it, not letting herself rest, all that sort of stuff. I think there's a point to it too that she needs some pain to function. She's exhausted, but a sudden pain can give that little spike of adrenaline she needs to keep herself going through long days as a president. And I think that's approximately the level it stays at, at least for as far as Enemy Lines (which is where I am currently). Like it gets less or more depending on the situation, in general I think post-Warfare it gets less because she had her big suicide plan there and I think it gets Narvin and Leela onto her more too. And there's not really much room to escape each other on the axis. Also, she heals, slowly and not completely, but some of the pain and exhaustion do get less, especially while she isn't president. So it's both harder to hurt herself and less necessary for her daily function.

Truly what is wrong with her, I love her and I love to give her issues

#I have thoughts on Leela too but those are more neurodivergency and skin picking related #anyways I love my mentally ill icon romana she gets all the issues #romana #tw self harm #tw sh #tw suicide #please tell me if you think this needs any other tags #and please take care of yourselves!#jae says stuff #also this got kind of long

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carriesthewind · 6 days ago

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When I first read this post, before I decided to dig in and try to find the sources for these claims, I intended this response to be a gentle correction of a very common misunderstanding about an aspect of the U.S. legal system.

And I’m still going to do that; we’re going to start with some general education about Miranda warnings – what they are, what they mean, and under what circumstances should you talk to the cops? (Spoiler: Don’t talk to the cops.) But let me do a quick skip to where we are going to end up, to hit the main points before a way-too-long post (and to just go ahead and let the conspiracy theorists block me in advance):

Don’t talk to the cops.

The cops have to give you the Miranda warnings before they interrogate you (ask you questions related to a criminal investigation/case) in a custodial setting (a situation where you are not free to leave.

If they don’t do that, you may be able to ask the court to prevent the prosecutor in your criminal case from using any of those statements at your criminal trial. (The judge cannot and will not do this on their own.)

Even if the court agrees with you and stops the prosecutor from using your statements, the case doesn’t just go away. The prosecutor can still use other evidence to try to convict you. This can include other statements you made.

The Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) did not recently say that you no longer need to be read your rights, or that you don’t have your Miranda rights, or you only have to be read your rights under certain circumstances that are somehow different from #2 above. SCOTUS ruled in Vega v. Tekoh that if the police do not read you your rights, you cannot file a civil lawsuit (aka a lawsuit where you are asking for money) against the police. This case is a travesty against the idea of justice, rights, and the rule of law, because it makes it much harder to hold the police accountable for their misconduct. However, it does not affect the application of the Miranda rule in criminal cases.

There is literally no evidence, zero, nada, none, that Mr. Mangione “was never read his miranda rights and was under the impression at that time that he was being denied the right to a fair trial, an attorney, or any legal representation," nor that his lawyer claimed this to be the case. @saint-luigi-of-fiji just literally made this claim up. Didn’t misunderstand, didn’t make a mistake, just straight up lied.

And on that point: fuck you, @saint-luigi-of-fiji, you lying asshole. How fucking dare you. How dare you farm people’s real pain, real outrage, and instead of directing it somewhere real, somewhere meaningful - instead of giving people real information about how fucked up the criminal injustice system is for the individuals - including Mr. Mangione - caught in it, or even just keeping your fanfic to yourself and your ao3 account, you decided to fucking lie, to deliberately spread misinformation both about his case and the legal system.

Right. Okay: let’s loop back to what I originally wanted this post to be about. Looking at OP’s original posts, there are three problems with them:

There is no source, and it is not true. They do give a “source” in the reblogs, and we will fucking get to that in full, trust me. But in short: there is simply no evidence at this time that Mr. Mangione’s Miranda rights were violated, much less that he hadn’t been read them at all, or that his attorney ever made that claim. This is just a straight-up fantasy made up by OP to spread conspiracy thinking. This is why I strongly advise not reblogging posts purporting to contain real-life information unless they both have a source and you have personally checked that source. It’s hard to do consistently (I know I’ve accidentally spread misinformation before!), but this post is a really good example about why you need to do both. Especially because:

This post is spreading a common misconception about what your Miranda rights are, when they apply, and what they mean. And people in the notes are really, really confused, in a way that – speaking from experience – can do real harm.

(And disclaimer up top: This post is about U.S. law. As such, I’m going to be addressing the parts talking about the law to folks living in the U.S. None of discussion about the law here applies outside of the U.S.)

(Second disclaimer: I am an attorney, but I am not your attorney. I outline some theoretical situations below purely as illustrative examples to make some of the explanations more accessible. Every factual situation is different, the law in every jurisdiction is different. Please do not avoid getting legal advice about your specific situation because you think this post is enough - this is information, not legal advice. If you are arrested and you begin a sentence to your attorney with, “I read on tumblr…,” I will personally come and haunt your dreams.)

Let’s start with a basic question: what are your Miranda rights?

(And I know, you know what your Miranda rights are! You've seen it on TV a dozen times! They're that speech the cops give you when they arrest you!...and if you just agreed with that last statement: please keep reading. Because the cops don't need to read them to you when you are being arrested, unless they are about to start questioning you right then and there.)

This post by the ACLU has a good, simple summary of what are commonly referred to as your Miranda rights, or Miranda warning:

“The Miranda rule, which the Supreme Court recognized as a constitutional right in its 1966 decision Miranda v. Arizona, requires that suspects be informed of their Fifth and Sixth Amendment rights "prior to interrogation" if their statements are to be used against them in court.”

I think it is helpful to think of your Miranda rights as two overlapping things:

The right to be informed of your rights before being asked questions.

The substantive rights you are being informed of.

That is, you have the right:

To remain silent, because anything you say can (and likely will) be used against you in a court of law.

To the presence of an attorney during law enforcement questioning.

And if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you prior to any questioning.

These rights derive directly from the constitution of the United States. They exist independently, regardless of whether you are told about them.

In Miranda v. Arizona, SCOTUS held, “without proper safeguards, the process of in-custody interrogation of persons suspected or accused of crime contains inherently compelling pressures which work to undermine the individual's will to resist and to compel him to speak where he would not otherwise do so freely. In order to combat these pressures and to permit a full opportunity to exercise the privilege against self-incrimination, the accused must be adequately and effectively apprised of his rights, and the exercise of those rights must be fully honored.” Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U.S. 436, 467 (1966).

Essentially, SCOTUS said, look. These rights exist on paper. But if there aren’t procedural protections in place, including and especially telling people that they have these rights, the cops can and will just steamroll over people.

And this is true. Even with Miranda, cops pressure people into false confessions.

So you also have the right to be informed that you have the right to remain silent and you have a right to an attorney before you are questioned by the police while you are in custody.

This is a good place to pause and look at the dependent clauses in that last sentence.

First: You need to be informed of your Miranda rights before you are questioned by the police. Like most rights in the U.S., your Miranda rights exist to protect you from government action. There is not a loophole where you can scream confessions to any crime you want and then when the police come to silently arrest you, they can’t do it because they didn’t read you your rights before you started talking. You always have the right to remain silent (don't talk to the cops, even before they read you your rights); before you are questioned by the police, it is up to you to exercise that right (or not).

Second: While you are in police custody. Again, to quote from Miranda, “An understanding of the nature and setting of this in-custody interrogation is essential to our decisions today.” Miranda 384 U.S., at 445. This doesn’t mean you have to be arrested, but, you do need to be "not free to leave." (This is also why you should also clarify, if you have not already been arrested, "am I free to leave." Because you can be "in custody" before you are arrested. Asking this question puts the burden on the police to either let you leave or trigger your Miranda rights.) For example, this is why if your new buddy Bob in your direct action group asks you all sorts of questions about your protest activities and plans, and then Bob turns out to be an undercover fed, your statements to Bob can be used against you in trial when the government says you were committing crimes. Bob, in fact, did not need to tell you he was a cop, and he did not need to inform you of your rights.

Finally, let’s talk about what happens if your Miranda rights are violated: either because the police didn’t read you your rights and obtain a waiver, or because they did not fully honor the execution of those rights. (For example, you said, “I am invoking my right to remain silent. I am revoking my right to an attorney,” and they locked you in to a room and badgered you with questions until you talked.)

Again, from Miranda: “Our holding will be spelled out with some specificity in the pages which follow, but, briefly stated, it is this: the prosecution may not use statements, whether exculpatory or inculpatory, stemming from custodial interrogation of the defendant unless it demonstrates the use of procedural safeguards effective to secure the privilege against self-incrimination.” Miranda, 384 U.S., at 444 (1966).

That is: if your Miranda rights were violated, any statement you made as a result of that violation can’t be used against you in your criminal trial. Those statements would be “suppressed,” which means the jury would not be allowed to hear that you made them.

What could this look like in practice?

Let’s say you are arrested for "possessing illegal drugs" and brought to the police station. You walk into the interrogation room, and before the police say anything, you say, "I didn’t know possessing testosterone was illegal!” (Statement 1) The officer then asks, “Where did you get the testosterone?” And you reply, “I bought it on the internet.” (Statement 2).

If I was being asked to analyze this scenario on a law school exam, I would say that Statement 2 probably couldn’t be introduced at trial. You were in custody, and your statement was in response to a direct question by a police officer, asked before you were read your Miranda warnings.

So, your attorney could file a motion, asking the court to “suppress” the statement. And, assuming the court agreed, the jury at your trial would not hear that you said you bought the testosterone on the internet.

But what about Statement 1? Your attorney could still try to suppress the statement, but there is a strong chance they would lose, because when you said you didn't know possessing testosterone was illegal, it wasn't in response any question. So technically, your rights were (probably) not violated, according to the law.

Shorter version of what this means in practice: Don’t talk to the cops! Ever! Invoke your rights and say nothing else!

This is especially true because if you read Miranda, you may have noticed this line:

“If the interrogation continues without the presence of an attorney and a statement is taken, a heavy burden rests on the government to demonstrate that the defendant knowingly and intelligently waived his privilege against self-incrimination and his right to retained or appointed counsel.” Miranda, 384 U.S., at 475.

This “heavy burden” element of Miranda has been, in my opinion, nearly completely whittled away. It is, in observed practice, normally sufficient merely for an officer to testify that of course he read the suspect his Miranda rights, and then the guy just kept talking after making some weird statement about a “lawyer dog.” And the courts will agree that yep, that’s a sufficient waiver! (For more, if you are interested, this publication by a California DA’s office is a bit old, but includes examples of a bunch of circumstances in which courts have found someone waived their rights. Don't talk to the cops. Invoke your rights and then shut the fuck up and keep shutting the fuck up.)

If you can’t tell from my tone, I think this is a horrendous miscarriage of justice that is both baked into our system and that is enacted against far too many people every day. It is something I care, very deeply, about. I think you should care too – as a citizen, because you should know what is going on in your country, what is being done to other people here; and because you may one day be on a jury – and because someday it may be done to you.

And spreading conspiracies about how unusual all this is, how this one saintly man is being targeted – this doesn’t spread awareness of the real problems with the legal system. It allows the impression that the system is otherwise working fine, justice is being done and the only people being treated this badly are the really really bad ones,* and the ones that are being targeted by Them.

*This is not be reading between the lines and extrapolating. OP literally straight up make this claim in another post. We will go into more detail on that later.

And if you want this all in a shorter and more digestible form: this tumblr post has a good breakdown, and I specifically recommend the video at the end.

_________________________________________________________

Right. So. Now that you have read over a thousand words of background, read a legal decision from the 1960s, read several articles and another tumblr post, and watched a 45 minute video, let’s return to OP’s posts, and the misconception they are spreading.

We are going to put aside for the moment the lie that Mr. Mangione's lawyer said he was angry “because he was never read his miranda rights, etc.” – again, we will get back to that. The underlying idea of these posts is that because Mr. Mangione supposedly wasn’t read his rights, 1) the police didn’t follow basic procedure and 2) therefore, the entire case must get thrown out.

I hope that after reading all of the above, you understand why this is incorrect. But just in case:

The police did not need to read him his rights unless they conducted a custodial interrogation. We have no idea if they did so or not (as OP admits elswhere).

Even if his rights were violated, there is nothing “defacto null and void” about any interrogation. His attorney would have to file a motion to suppress any statements that resulted from that interrogation.

Even upon motion by his attorneys, the judge would not and could not throw out “this entire case.” If he made statements during a custodial interrogation after the police failed to advise him of his Miranda rights, his attorney could file a motion to suppress those statements, and the judge would decide if those statements could be used at trial. Other evidence could still be introduced, including other statements he may have made in other contexts. The posts gesture in the direction of this reality – (“any interrogation they did of him is unlawful, and inadmissible in court”) – but this gesturing is overwhelmed by the rest of the posts (“they have failed to follow basic procedure”; “This is a major red flag of police corruption”; “that alone can get this entire case thrown out”; “[the interrogation is] defacto null and void”).

And indeed, looking through the notes, a large number of people do have this misunderstanding. For example:

“#They quite literally have to throw your case out if they don’t read you your Mirandas”

“#any 12 year old kid can tell you that the first thing that happens whene you get arrested is your rights!”

(I generally don’t recommend taking legal advice from 12 year olds, especially since most of their experience with the criminal legal system should be coming from media. That said, unfortunately there are far too many 12 years old who do have real life experience with the criminal legal system. That is one of the many fucked up things about the criminal injustice system.)

And I care, because this misunderstanding can do real harm!

I want to return to a sentence I quoted from Miranda earlier: “In order to combat these pressures and to permit a full opportunity to exercise the privilege against self-incrimination, the accused must be adequately and effectively apprised of his rights, and the exercise of those rights must be fully honored.” Miranda, 384 U.S., at 467.

When people don’t have full information about their rights, when they misunderstand them, it makes it much less likely that they will be able to fully and effectively exercise those rights.

For example, someone may feel like it’s okay to talk to the police as long as they haven’t been charged, or their Miranda rights haven’t been read to them – because before the police use your words against you, they have to read you your Miranda rights! This may not even reach the level of a conscious thought, but exist as a general impression that your right to remain silent only matters, is only important, after the police read you your rights.

Or they may, like many people reblogging this post, think hey, wait, isn't it true that if you're arrested and the police never read you your Miranda rights, your case needs to be thrown out!? I was never read my rights, and so my case needs to be thrown out!

And then have to find out they are wrong.

(And if you don’t think that is a real harm – I can tell you, from being on the other side of that conversation as a defense attorney – yes. Yes it is. Part of why I’m being so vitriolic in this response is my knowledge that the spreading of this misinformation makes it more likely that more of those conversations will happen.)

Speaking of the notes: several people in the notes are repeating some variation of the claim that SCOTUS decided that “Miranda rights aren’t required anymore.” This is a misunderstanding of Vega v. Tekoh, 597 U.S. ___ (2022). As I stated up at the top of this post (remember the top of this post? I swear to god this was supposed to be a short response), SCOTUS ruled in Vega that if the police do not read you your rights, you cannot file a civil lawsuit (aka a lawsuit where you are asking for money) against the police. This case is a travesty against the idea of justice, rights, and the rule of law, because it makes it much harder to hold the police accountable for their misconduct.

Multiple people in the notes cited to an ACLU article about the case, including some who actually quoted the article.

And almost every single one of them misunderstood it.

This decision had zero legal effect on how failing to inform someone of their Miranda rights would impact that person’s criminal trial. It has to do with whether the person has any civil remedies.

And. I think everyone who did this honestly meant well. And I know that understanding the law is really hard – there is a reason law school takes three years and rewires your brain in the process. But. It’s in the article: “While the court’s decision does not as a formal matter reduce the police officer’s obligation to issue Miranda warnings — or what individuals in police custody should do or say (or not do and not say) — it cuts off a critical means by which people whose rights have been violated can actually vindicate the promise of those rights.” (I'm keeping the link from the original because it's a very helpful know your rights article.)

My best guess is that this misunderstanding (to the extent it’s not just people remembering poorly-reported news, or other misinformed social media posts) comes from reading the quoted bit of Kagan’s dissent, where she said, “The majority observes that defendants may still seek ‘the suppression at trial of statements obtained’ in violation of Miranda’s procedures. But sometimes, such a statement will not be suppressed.” And they thought this meant that the case means that statements wouldn’t be suppressed? But that’s just no true: Kagan is just describing a thing that sometimes happens. As in, it is the thing that literally happened to Tekoh, the guy who tried to sue the officer who violated his rights. The statements should have been suppressed, but they weren’t, and so the jury heard the statements.

And, look. There is nothing wrong with not understanding the law. Or even articles talking about the law. The problem is that you need to recognize when you might not understand something, and don’t make claims about the thing you don’t understand.

Because. Again, going back to the bit of Miranda that I keep quoting: you don’t meaningfully have a right if you don’t know about and understand that right. When you go on the internet and spread misinformation about the state of people’s rights, you, in effect, are helping perpetrate the denial of those rights.

________________________________________________

Alright.

So that is where I originally meant to end this response. But I wanted to know what OP’s source was, so I dug through the notes.

And I found this reply by OP confirming that someone else had found their source in this post.

And. Well.

I normally would give credit to someone for actually having a source. In this case, I’m not even going to credit them with this actually being their source at the time of their original post – their post begins, “Update!," but this article is from early December, and they don't mention it until someone else links to it. But this is what they are claiming as their source.

And: The article and the attached video interview don’t say what OP says they say. They just. Literally don’t say that. So why does OP claim they do? Let’s look at their post. It begins:

“Some clarification: Miranda rights are the right to know that you have access to legal representation and that any police questioning and interrogation they subject you to are optional, that you are a willing participant of any police questioning and interrogation, that you are not being forced to speak to police or otherwise being interrogated under duress, that you confirm you are not being coerced or threatened by police into providing incriminating information, and that the interrogation can be ended at any time at your request by asking to speak with the legal representation you have the right to call upon. They also detail that if you don't have a private attorney to request, they have to appoint you a public one.”

Now, this is not a terrible description of the *contents* of your Miranda rights. But as we went through above, Miranda held that you have the right to be informed of these rights, which themselves derive from the U.S. Constitution, before being questioned. In fact, the Court in Miranda specifically held, “The Fifth Amendment privilege is so fundamental to our system of constitutional rule, and the expedient of giving an adequate warning as to the availability of the privilege so simple, we will not pause to inquire in individual cases whether the defendant was aware of his rights without a warning being given.” Miranda, 384 U.S., at 468. That is, it doesn’t matter if you know your rights – you still have to be read them. (I’m nitpicking here, I know, but if you are draping yourself in expertise in order to spread misinformation, I am going to nitpick your “clarifications.”) This distinction is important, and actually OP’s next sentence is a good example as to why:

“So for Luigi to not be aware, he would have had to have not even been read those rights.”

“Not to be aware”? Not to be aware of what? Presumably that he had a right to an attorney, I guess?

But the cited article and interview just show his lawyer saying that he didn’t have legal representation until he went into court. (Again, fucked up, especially under the circumstances - but also, many of the clients I had as a Public Defender met me for the first time a few minutes before their first court hearing. Far less unusual than you would hope.) It doesn't say he wasn’t aware that he had the right to an attorney!!

I could go through the poor reasoning here, of assuming that because Mr. Mangione (supposedly) didn’t know he had a right to attorney, that means he wasn’t read his rights, when (again, even if that was true) there could be plenty of other theoretical explanations. Some much worse scenarios, in my opinion! For example, maybe he was read his rights, and asked for an attorney, and was told one wasn’t available and the thought…AND OH MY GOD WHAT AM I DOING – this goes beyond speculation! This is just fanfic! We have literally zero reason to believe any of this happened! The poor reasoning and jumping to conclusions is irrelevant because the thing you are jumping off of is literally just a fantasy you made up in your head!

“It's not clear if he has been interrogated or questioned by police, but it's likely.”

And you know it! You know you are just making stuff up!

“It does mean that if he was questioned or interrogated without being read those rights, anything he said at that time is inadmissible in court and cannot be used against him.”

This is true! It’s also fucking proof, @saint-luigi-of-fiji, that you are a fucking liar, purposefully spreading misinformation. You KNOW what the remedy for a Miranda violation is. You know, or should know, it doesn’t mean “that alone can get this entire case thrown out.”

“Luigi's attorney is explaining that Luigi is fearful and stressed in this footage and during his initial arraignment because he was somehow able to be lead to the conclusion he wasn't going to have legal representation or his own right to a fair trial whatsoever.”

That’s not what he says.

Just.

You can listen to the audio yourself. I’ve roughly transcribed the relevant portion below, but please, please check it out yourself. Don’t take my word for this either. The speaker is Mr. Mangione’s attorney:

“Yeah - that - so, first of all, about this outrage. Uh, you know, he’s irritated, agitated about what’s happening to him and what he’s being accused of. He never had any legal representation until he walked into that building yesterday. Um, and I talked to him. And if you notice - look at the film - look at the difference between when he went in and when he come out. So once he got in, he finally had legal representation. I’d like to think that he had somebody that he can trust, and has faith in. And now he has a-a-a spokesperson. Someone that’s gonna fight for him. Um. And so I think you’ll see a big difference in the demeanor. And I think that part of that - uh - whatever you want to interpret that as yesterday was a lot of the frustration of being a young man thrown in jail, uh, and being accused of very serious matters.”

[News archer speaks, asking if the attorney met Mr. Mangione after the video clip of Mr. Mangione shouting.]

“That’s correct. I...[speaking over each other]…no actually, that was in the holding area. And I was on the other side of that. So my first contact with him, visually, was before I even had the chance to speak to him, was him coming through that door, and you, you saw the interaction between he and the sheriff’s department. And – and – then, look at the, look at the video of him coming out, and look at the difference. He’s now had legal counsel. I, I was upset that he didn’t have any legal counsel prior to that. That extradition hearing came upon pretty quick. And he hadn’t talked to anybody.”

(emphasis added by me)

The claim that OP is making is specifically about why Mr. Mangione was upset. So I added, for emphasis, every time the lawyer made a claim about someone being upset, and the reason. His attorney says repeatably that Mr. Mangione was upset because he has been arrested, held in jail, and been accused of very serious matters. The lawyer also says that he, personally, is upset that Mr. Mangione did not have an attorney prior to their meeting.

There is not even a whisper of an implication of a suggestion that Mr. Mangione “was under the impression at that time that he was being denied the right to a fair trial, an attorney, or any legal representation.”

This is just a fucking lie. It isn’t in the article, it isn’t in the video, it is literally just stuff you made up, and are pretending is reality. This isn’t a misunderstanding, this isn’t a game of telephone - it’s just a lie.

YOU ARE LITERALLY STRAIGHT UP LYING. AND FOR FUCKING WHAT. Is it because you believe that the injustices of the criminal legal system are fucking fine when they apply to other people, people who aren’t “saints”? (Because actually the bad people, the really guilty people, should just be killed.) Or because you have decided to form a parasocial bond with a man experiencing some of the worst things this country does to people, making up fantasies about him, and his personal life, and how he really feels.

Other people’s real suffering is not a playground for you to write your fanfic* and pretend it is reality, especially when in doing so, you spread real misinformation and harm.

*To be upfront on my biases and clear on my objection: RPF is very much not my cup of tea, but I don’t think it is inherently immoral. My specific objection here is that this person is collapsing reality into their fanfic, specifically spreading misinformation and encouraging conspiracy theories to make reality more like their fun, consumable escapism.

And again, to be clear: OP knows they are making this up. In another post, they say, “Source is CNN, and here's daily beast reuploading the CNN interview. It might not be coming up because the words "Miranda rights" weren't used, but they are the rights that haven't been given to him if he was not at any point aware he was going to have access to attorneys or legal counsel.”

OP could try to argue they misunderstood, but again, in his interview, at no point does his attorney even suggest something that could be reasonably construed as implying “he was not at any point aware he was going to have access to attorneys or legal counsel.”

“Thankfully he now has four attorneys, including Dickey, who are defending him and you can see he is no longer having 'outbursts' out of fear.”

Point me to the time stamp in your "source" where his attorney suggests Mr. Mangione was doing anything “out of fear.”

“Whatever happened during his arrest and detainment, he wasn't given any indication of his rights. But he thankfully does have those rights, and attorneys.”

Again, this is just…fanfic. There is no other word for you. You are writing fanfic (fine) and passing it off as reality because…it matches the dramatic narrative you want? It makes your uwu hotboy a real martyr, unlike all those vicious “cannibals” who are usually charged with crimes?

And yeah. That’s really what OP thinks. From another post by this asshole: “Was then placed in solitary confinement for weeks. Something extremely damaging psychologically to be exposed to for even just a few days. Something usually reserved for cannibals.”

Fuck you.

Look. I actually went back and revised this post to make it less vitriolic, OP, because my goal is not to hurt you.* I hope you have no idea of the kind of harm you are causing. But my god, you are saying and doing monstrous things, and you need to fucking stop.

*I will also haunt the dreams of anyone who harasses OP. Don't even think about going into their inbox.

_____________________________________________________

Ok.

So just to round things out, I’ll quickly address the rest of the claims in OP’s second post above:

“You didn't DNA test him because New York sidewalk is too contaminated, didn't fingerprint him because you don't have usable fingerprints at the scene,”

According to the police, they did take his fingerprints. I don't trust statements by the police, but this is a routine part of booking, so I would be surprised if they didn’t.

I don’t know if they took his DNA. But for what it’s worth, it’s currently not legal in Pennsylvania for the police to collect routine DNA samples upon arrest. So I’m not sure what the objection is here..?

As far as I can tell, although I don’t know where OP is getting this because they don't cite a souce, this claim appears to originate from people misunderstanding the “Defendant Identification Information” section of the Pennsylvania complaint.

“you have no way of knowing he's even the right guy, no one can identify that it's him in the footage, even fbi facial recognition software can't recognize him as the cctv suspect”

Look. To give you an idea of the problems here: let’s say this is all true. All of the reasons the police have given as to why he is the person who killed that evil CEO are dismantled by his legal team.

The place to do that, in our legal system, is the trial. These are questions of fact, which are decided at trial. I don’t want to say trials are a good way of finding fact. In fact, they often result in miscarriages of justice. But in our legal system, facts are decided at trial. Even if the judge agreed with all of the above, they wouldn’t and couldn’t throw this entire case out, because that’s not how this works!

I also want to emphasize, again, that this isn’t the system targeting Mr. Mangione. There are people every day who you don’t care about (“nobodies,” to use the term OP used to refer to ordinary people who are shot in the post linked above - because literally they don’t care about anyone except their fantasy version of Mr. Mangione) who are charged, and held, and convicted, on very little evidence. Which is a grave injustice that should frustrate and incite you, not lead you to post conspiracies and misinformation.

“you interrogated him under duress, and that's the ONLY thing you have on him? The thing that's defacto null and void because none of you can follow even basic procedure?”

And we’ve gone through this exhaustively, but Jesus fucking Christ.

You l know that you’re just making the “interrogation” up. Like, yes, maybe there will be evidence in the future there was an interrogation! And maybe there will be allegations or reason to believe there was impropriety and/or illegality in that interrogation! But right now, this is just your fantasy, and you're passing it off to thousands of people as real information

And like, I agree with his defense attorney! I take claims of evidence, especially from the police, with enough salt to brine a boar! But there is a massive difference between, “I will wait for confirmation of actual evidence before I believe any claims” and just…claiming the opposite is true without evidence.

____________________________________________________

I will end with this coda:

There is plenty of bullshit to talk about regarding this situation. Both in how it is being talked about by the news, and how it is proceeding (and especially in how he is being charged). But part of that bullshit is this rampant conspiracy theorizing.

If this situation leads to people recognizing the problems with the criminal injustice system, great! But:

Conspiracy thinking is bad, no matter where it is directed. And there is reason to believe that thinking conspiratorially (in general) is strongly predictive for believing in other conspiracy theories.

The impression I’m getting from many people, not just OP, is less, “it’s terrible that people accused of crimes are treated this way” and more, “the fact this [both innocent and morally good] person is being treated this way indicates that he is being specifically targeted by the System.” [Implied: it either doesn’t happen to other people, or it does happen to other people and they deserve it.]

And on that note, I do not "hope [it] is true" that Mr. Mangione’s rights were violated. Because he's a human being, not just a guy who represents something people support; their uwu hotboy; their real life blorbo.

I hope that if he did not do it, he is not convicted. Regardless of whether or not he did it, as someone who believes in prison abolition, I hope he does not have to spend one more day incarcerated. I wish all of the attention and resources being dedicated to catching and prosecuting and covering him in the media (and more) were being dedicated to doing something – anything – against the murderous for-profit healthcare system in the U.S.

And in conclusion:

Check the sources before you believe or spread a claim.

Don’t make claims about the law if you don’t really understand it.

Don’t make up facts.

Don’t talk to the cops.

Update! Luigi's Attorney Dickey confirms that his "outburst" where he tells the cameras that this is unjust, was because he was never read his miranda rights and was under the impression at that time that he was being denied the right to a fair trial, an attorney, or any legal representation.

He is angry and terrified in that footage because they have failed to follow basic procedure to inform him that he has any rights at all. This is a major red flag of police corruption. This is UNACCEPTABLE and further means any interrogation they did of him is unlawful, and inadmissible in court.

#the criminal injustice system #also: I warned you this post was too long up front #misinformation #conspiracy theories #don't talk to cops

62K notes · View notes

javierpena-inatacvest · 5 months ago

Text

Me, You, and Baby, Too

Summary: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (it's baby making time, so hush), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, big ole fat and nasty breeding kink (.... don't look at me it's bad), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Joel "Daddy" (in the sense you want to have his babies, but also 🤷🏼‍♀️), Sweet soft Joel who loves his wife and would give her the universe if he could, honestly with just the way Joel is talking about makin' babies, I think I'm pregnant

A/N: It's that time of the month where Madeline ovulates and writes feral breeding kink smut!!! 🤪 Okay I am so nervous to post this because I have never written for Joel before and I'm worried it's trash with a capital T, but after re-watching TLOU, I need 2003 Joel Miller carnally, so here we are. This is also inspired by @mrsmando post about 2003 Joel Miller constantly keeping you barefoot and pregnant because it made me unwell, and no lies were told. (thanks for ruining my life mimi) 🤠 ANYWHO I hope you guys like it, and if not, I'll shut up and go back to writing Javi and Frankie and pretend like this didn't happen

There were a lot of stereotypical answers that you expected from your husband when you asked him how his day at work had been:

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“Long.”

“My knees are killin’ me.”

“Tommy did somethin’ fuckin’ stupid again.”

“Better now that I’m home with you.”

So when Joel arrived home today after a new job he had started with Tommy on a bathroom renovation, there were few things that could have prepared you for the response your husband had when you asked him how his day had gone.

“Hey, honey. How was your day today?” You smiled, watching Joel stroll in through your front door, kicking off his work boots at the entryway, beginning to put away his things before strolling into the kitchen to greet you.

“Pretty good." He paused, leaning in for a quick kiss before making his way over to the closet before speaking again. "Saw a real cute baby today.”

You could practically feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up from the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner, tightening the grip you had around your knife to make sure you didn’t drop it in shock.

Out of all the things for Joel to bring up on the first day at a new job, a cute baby had been at the top of the list.

Not floor plans.

Not timelines for the project.

Not something stupid that Tommy did.

Not even what he had done today on the job.

The top news that Joel Miller had to report back to you about his day was the sighting of a cute baby.

You and Joel had always agreed that you’d wanted kids, and your husband had been not only adamant, but genuinely excited at the prospect of becoming a dad. But only being a little less than a year into your marriage, the two of you had decided you didn’t want to rush into anything, and when the time felt right, you’d both know it.

But one by one, as your friends began to announce their pregnancies, baby showers, and pictures of their adorable newborns, you couldn’t help but deny the baby fever starting to burn hotter and hotter inside you with every passing day.

You’d brought it up in passing a few times with Joel, talking about your friends who had kids, or a cute mom and her children you saw walking around in your neighborhood, and while he had always had a positive response to what you had to say, you just had a feeling that now just wasn’t the time for the two of you yet, and that was okay.

But here you were, standing in your kitchen, jaw practically scraping the ground at the notion that your husband had dropped just about the least subtle hint ever that babies weren’t just at the forefront of your mind- they were on his, too.

“Awh, really?” You asked, shaking your head to snap out of your shocked state, returning back to dice the onion you had been working on before Joel could turn around to see you after finishing hanging up his things in the closet, trying to subtly coax more information out of him.

“Yeah.” He smiled, joining you in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his chest for a soft kiss to greet you, “The family we’re startin’ the bathroom reno for just moved in. Had their first baby a few months ago and just hadn’t had time to work on fixin’ things.”

“So they’re already putting the baby to work with you and Tommy?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at Joel playfully, giving him a quick peck back on the lips as he laughed at your sass.

“Cheap labor.” Joel shrugged back, playing into the joke, “Nah, she woke up from her nap while Tommy and I were runnin’ through some measurements so her mom brought her out for the last lil bit we were there. She was damn cute, too. Just smilin’ and laughin’ at everything.”

You were glad Joel’s arm was still wrapped around your hip, because you were convinced if it wasn’t, you were about to melt to the floor into a puddle, watching how soft and sweet Joel was talking about a cute, smiling baby.

“Well a cute baby definitely sounds like a very nice perk of being on the job.” You smirked, trying to play it cool enough to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest.

“Yeah.” Joel replied softly, quietly pausing for a moment, watching the gears turning in his brain, carefully calculating his words before he spoke.

“You okay?” You asked, looking up at Joel, knowing your husband well enough that he had something on his mind he was trying to work up the confidence to spit out.

Joel looked back down at you, big brown eyes locking with yours as his grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, tongue swiping against his plush bottom lip as he took a long, deep breath in and slow exhale out.

“Honey, what is it?” You asked again, now slightly concerned with how nervous your husband looked in his stoic silence, reaching up to gently wrap your fingers around his arm, thumb stroking his skin.

“I want one.”

You froze, worried that your heart may have actually stopped as you looked at Joel, making sure that you had really just heard what he had said.

“W-what?”

“I want one. A baby. I- I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and seein’ that baby today, it just- shit, I just couldn’t stop picturin’ what it would be like to have one of our own I guess.”

If you weren’t a puddle before, you sure as fuck were now.

An overwhelming sensation of nerves and excitement began thrumming through your veins, your heart beat pounding in your ears as your face grew warm and a smile started to spread between your cheeks. You were almost certain you had to be dreaming, asking again to make sure that someone needed to come and wake you up and send you back to reality.

“Joel… Really?”

“Yeah, really. Nothin’ I want more. I know I ain’t gonna even be close to the perfect dad, but I know you’ll be sucha good mom, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want some tiny lil versions of us runnin’ around. Couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than that. Like I said, I know that we ain’t talked about in a while, and if ya aren’t ready yet that’s okay but I-”

Before Joel could even finish the rest of his thought, you were pressing up to plant your lips to his with passionate intensity, hands roaming up his chest before cupping his jaw and the scratchy stubble of his cheeks while your stomach flipped with arousal and want, already feeling a damp patch beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear.

You pulled away, kisses traveling along his jawline and up his neck until you were nipping at his ear, the hot breath of your words whispering against his skin.

“You wanna make a baby, Joel Miller?”

“Fuck-” Joel groaned, reaching his other arm around you grab at your ass, pulling you in tight enough to feel the bulge beginning to grow under the denim of his worn jeans, pressing against your thigh.

“‘Cause there’s nothing that I want more than to make you a daddy.” You smirked, looking up to watch Joel’s eyes darken with lust, jaw going slack as a low groan rumbled in his chest, his once half hard cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper, trying to keep from giggling watching your husband try to string together any sort of thoughts to speak.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” He moaned, running his hand over his face to try and regain his composure to keep from busting right then and there. “You- fuck, you sure, baby?”

“Mhmmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my whole life. So sure,” you paused, softly pressing your lips to his between words, “that I think we should go make one right now.”

Your adamant confirmation was all it took to set off something almost animalistic in Joel, crashing his lips back into yours in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, gripping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up around his hips and lock your legs behind the small of his back. Without ever letting your mouths part, Joel was already halfway to the bedroom before you had even realized it, playfully giggling at how frantically he was carrying you down the hallway, your bodies bumping against the walls and door frames, too focused on desperate and needy kisses for any sort of spatial awareness.

Finally reaching your bed, Joel carefully laid you down, letting your back fall into the mattress, leaving your lower half to hang off the edge before your husband was on his knees, settling himself between your parted thighs.

You sat up on your elbows, watching as Joel tightened his grip around the meat of your legs, peppering kisses up the inside of each across your soft skin before coming face to face with your core, planting another soft kiss there before letting his fingers ghost over your heat, still covered by your jeans.

He rapidly worked at the button of your pants, shuffling them down off your hips to reveal your underwear, now absolutely soaked with arousal from the prospect alone of Joel knocking you up and carrying his baby.

“Jesus Christ, baby girl, look at ‘cha.” Joel tutted, admiring how the cotton of your underwear clung to the outline of your cunt, sticking to the puffy and swollen lips of your pussy from how wet you were. “Haven’t even touched ya yet. This all for me, darlin’?”

Just as you began to try and answer, Joel took one of his fingers, barely dragging it over the damp fabric before beginning to rub soft circles over your covered clit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you at the electric sensation.

“F-fuck- It’s all for you, b-baby.” You stammered, moaning even louder as a second finger joined the first, pressing more pressure into you sensitive nub as he nudged each of your legs to drape over his shoulders, his free hand tugging at the waistband of your underwear, making you instinctually lift your hips as he yanked them off your legs to crumple in a messy pile with your pants.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” Joel mewled, running his fingers up and down through the weeping seams of your folds, toying with your entrance while draping his arm across your hips to hold your squirming lower half in place. “Wants me to fuck her full of me and fill her up so bad, huh?”

“P-please, Joel. Want you to fill me up so badly.” You whimpered, staring down at your husband, a devilish grin spread across his face, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your blissed out face and the glistening mess between your thighs.

“I will sweetheart, promise. Gotta taste you first though, baby. Gotta make sure you’re nice n’ready for me. ‘Cause once we start, I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till I knock you up.”

With that, Joel was diving between your legs, lapping you up in long and firm strokes, pressing against your clit in the way he knew would make you fall apart under his tongue. While he would have loved to have spend hours just like this, making you writhe under his touch, drinking up your arousal like a wandering man parched in the heat of the desert, Joel had one thing on his mind, and one thing only-

To get you pregnant.

Joel began to intensify the pace of his tongue, swirling and sucking around your clit as two of his thick fingers pushed into your heat, sliding in and out of your entrance with ease from how wet and worked up you were. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, you cried out as Joel bumped against your g-spot, pushing against the soft, spongy spot as his tongue worked its magic.

You could feel the arousal shooting through your veins, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach as Joel fucked you with his fingers and mouth, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his thick, brown hair to brace yourself for your impending orgasm.

“J-Joel, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, I’m c-close. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You whined, pussy beginning to flutter around Joel’s fingers, the tightening only egging him on further to get you to cross the finish line.

With just a little more pressure of his tongue, Joel could feel your cunt clamping down around his digits, watching the pleasure shoot through your body as you came, your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami.

As you reached your high, Joel drank up your arousal, not faltering in his pace, too focused on your pretty cries of his name being chanted like a prayer to do anything but keep going and making you feel good.

Truth be told, Joel had gotten so lost between your thighs, the only thing stopping him was the tensing feeling between his, so pussy drunk and determined to fuck you full of him that he was worried he was about to cum too if he didn’t stop.

Pulling off you, Joel frantically stood up, racing to undo his belt and jeans, yanking them down his legs in tandem with his boxers as his cock slapped against his stomach, precum already pearling from his tip, desperate to be inside of you. His shirt quickly followed his pants, ripping it over his head as his broad body caged yours under him, helping you to scoot back on the bed until your head hit the pillows, trailing kisses up and down your body the whole way.

As Joel kissed and nipped at your skin, you quickly shuffled off your top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him, moaning as his tongue flicked against each of your newly exposed pebbled nipples, grouping your breast and kneading the soft flesh in his palms.

Even though you had just came, you could already feel your cunt starting to clench around nothing, desperate to feel Joel inside of you, to stretch you out with his thick cock and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. But with the way your chest was heaving and breath shaking from your orgasm, you could barely muster out the words you wanted.

“J-Joel, p-please, baby. P-please.”

You snaked your hand between your bodies to reach for Joel’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his length and swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you stroked him, trying to guide him to slide between your legs and ease your ache.

Lowering his hips, you moved your hand and let his replace it, Joel pumping himself a few times before guiding his tip between your folds, collecting your slick to coat his cock, using every last ounce of self-control he had as his eyes locked with yours, wanting to see your face as he pushed inside you.

“Please, what, darlin’?” Joel teased, knowing damn well what you were begging for.

“Need to feel you, Joel. Need you to put a baby in me.” You moaned, reaching up to grab his face, your palm rubbing against his stubble as your fingers tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck.

With one more pump, Joel lined himself up with your entrance, sliding into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting of his length making the breath hitch in the back of your throat, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you with his tip just kissing your cervix.

Joel couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your mouth fall open, parted lips letting a soft moan escape while your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the newfound sensation, giving you another moment to adjust before he began to slowly roll his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your core.

“Christ, baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck ya full of me until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take.” Joel groaned, reaching down to grab your thighs, pinning your knees to your chest, stretching you open to take Joel even deeper, practically feeling him in your stomach with the position he had you in.

“Joel, oh my god- fuck, you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Want you to fill me up so bad.” You whimpered, Joel now beginning to pick up his pace as he thrust in and out of you, continually punching in that perfect spot over and over again, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting.

Joel’s fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pushing your legs down just far enough to be chest to chest with you, the sweat dampened curls of his forehead brushing against yours as your mouths met in an electric kiss, catching each other’s muffled moans with each snap of Joel’s hips.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Let everyone see what a pretty momma you are, carryin’ our kid?” Joel grunted, picturing you, months from now, belly round and tits swollen, pregnant with your baby, wondering how many you’d let him give you, because fuck, he’d keep knocking you up until he had nothing left to give.

Each push and pull of your bodies against each other felt more and more electric, an undeniable coil tightening in your stomach with the way Joel was pounding into you and the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, already feeling yourself beginning to teeter on the brink of pleasure once again.

“Yes, fuck, fuck- yes, Joel. I wanna have your baby. Want you to knock me up so I can make you a daddy. Please, baby, please.” You were all but sobbing at this point, your fingers digging into the tan and sweat sheened skin of Joel’s broad shoulders, overwhelmed by the lewd combinations of Joel’s heavy pants in your ear and wet squelching of your pussy as his pelvis flushed against yours repeatedly.

Joel could feel you beginning to tighten around him, pussy sucking him in with its warmth and wetness, ready to clamp around his cock and milk him for all he was worth.

“That’s it, darlin’, I know you’re close. Gotta cum for me first though, baby girl. Gotta feel ya soak me before I stuff ya so full of me, I swear t’god, you’ll be drippin’ outta me for days. So fuckin’ full that I’ll get you pregnant right now.” Joel groaned through gritted teeth, leaning back to reach and grab your leg, wrapping it around the small of his back before you lifted your other to join it, locking your ankles to keep him as close to you as possible.

“Joel, oh my god, fuck baby, fuck, I’m gonna- fuckfuckfuck-”

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure hit you like a freight train, choking Joel’s cock with your pussy, unable to do anything but relish in the white hot bliss that had you nearly floating out of your own body.

While Joel would have kept fucking you until the sun went down, the truth was he was relieved to feel you cum, spending every second since your agreement in the kitchen trying to keep from finishing until he was balls deep inside you and you were soaking his cock as you reached your high. The realization that now was his chance to make good on his promise, to fill you up and fuck a baby into you, ignited something primal, feral, in him, pounding into you at a punishing pace as he could feel himself teetering on the brink of collapse right with you.

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock, baby. Shit, I’m gonna cum too, fuck- gonna fill this tight lil pussy up so goddamn much, give you a baby, make you a momma, oh fuck!”

With one final stutter of his hips, Joel let out a strangled moan, flushing his hips against yours as he milked himself of every last drop, painting your warm, wet walls with hot ropes of his spend, making sure nothing went to waste.

He couldn’t help but but press even further into you, plugging you with his length and fucking his cum as deep as he could into your cunt to make sure it took, collapsing on top of you with his cock still buried in your heat, letting your chests heave together in sync as you both caught your breath.

Joel was convinced he had never cum so much in his entire life, afraid that if he pulled out, that somehow he’d have more left to give, and sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk letting anything coming out of him end up not inside of you.

Well, not until your muffled grunt rumbled beneath him.

“Joel, baby, I love you but you’re kinda squishing me.” You huffed, giggling to yourself as you watched your husband come-to in real time out of his post-orgasmic state, immediately offering a half muttered apology as he rolled off you, sitting back on his knees to admire the shiny and slick mess between your legs.

“Fuck me…” Joel murmured to himself, eyes wide as he stared at your pussy- wet, puffy and soaking with your arousal, bringing his fingers to your spent hole as he watched a dribble of his cum begin to leak out. Gently scooping it up, he collected everything he could, pressing it back into your cunt before pulling his hand out. Crawling up the bed to lay next to you, Joel wrapped you up in his arms as the little spoon, peppering ticklish kisses over your back and shoulders, making you burst into laughter.

“Joel, stop! That tickles!” You squealed, squirming in his grasp, trying to defend yourself from his unrelenting attack of soft, plush lips and scratchy beard dancing across your skin.

“Don’t laugh so damn hard, or all my hard work’s ‘bout to come out!” Joel teased, giving you a playful nudge, pulling you in even closer.

“Stop making me laugh, then! Plus, I think you came enough to put quadruplets inside of me, so I think we’ll be okay.” You snorted, Joel joining in on the laughter.

“Baby, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my whole goddamn life.” Joel sighed, shrugging as you rolled your head up to look at him and that stupid goofy grin he got whenever he couldn’t contain his excitement about something. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, Joel.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Joel slowly bringing his arm to rest across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing careful circles on your skin.

“You’re gonna make such a good mom. I’m the luckiest man alive that you wanna have a family with me. Still not really sure what I ever did to deserve it.”

“Joel! You’re gonna make me cry! And this is before pregnancy hormones, ya jerk.” You tried to laugh, choking back the tears welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, what a jerk, your husband tellin’ you how much he loves you.” He teased back, planting a long kiss on your temple, before pressing another one to your lips. Another wave of soft silence followed, watching Joel’s face scrunch in a calculated concentration. “How big of a crib you think I gotta make? I don’t know ‘bout a rockin’ chair, but a crib can’t be that hard. I gotta measure the guest room tomorrow.”

“Honey, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, you don’t need to have a crib built tomorrow.” You teased, laughing at Joel, despite the fact his mind was already thinking about a baby room and accessories had you melting.

“Sweetheart, what did I say earlier? I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till we know there’s a baby in there.” He smirked, nodding at his hand still splayed across your stomach, “So you better get comfortable, ‘cause if it’s up to me, there ain’t a chance in hell we’re gettin’ anything but a positive pregnancy test at the end of this month, and we'll sure need that crib nine months from now. Never hurts to get a head start."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

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

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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sceletaflores · 2 months ago

Text

SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!

ೃ⁀➷ pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

ೃ⁀➷ wc: 7.0k

ೃ⁀➷ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, feral nasty unhinged logan yes god, logan only slightly losing his humanity but like it’s a lot less sad than it sounds, maybe some toxic relationship dynamics but who cares it’s porn, predator/prey dynamics, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, HEAVY scent kink (like don’t make me say it…but beware of some very subtle armpit stuff), pain kink, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, blood, so much come and come talk, creampie, squirting, this is just gross, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

ೃ⁀➷ nat's note: hi…hi y’all…so here’s the winner of the poll and i need everyone to just hear me out for a second! walk with me! this is probably the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, like omg those tags. this upsetting depravity was inspired by this post by @stupidfuckingwindow and this post by @monimccoythings which both altered the chemical balances of my brain so fiercely i blacked out for a while and when i came to this was in front of me. merry christmas and happy holidays! take this not at all christmas themed fic as my present to you my precious angels. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

you notice a strange shift in logan...

There’s something off with Logan.

The changes were subtle, but you’ve been with him long enough now to pick up on them. And while he's always had a raw, untamed edge to him, a sort of wildness simmering just beneath the surface, this feels different.

It started with the way he would go quiet for longer than usual, like his mind was too far away for you to reach—lost to somewhere distant.

Logan has always been quiet, but this was a different kind of silence. Conversations that used to flow with ease now hang in the air, unfinished. All of his responses reduced to nothing but low grunts and clipped words.

And he was more territorial over you, so much more.

His hand has started to linger at the small of your back or the curve of your waist for a lot longer when you’re in public, his strong grip firm enough to remind you—and anyone nearby—that you’re his.

He would fume at even the slightest hint of someone else's interest in you, a low warning growl escaping his throat to anyone who spared you a second glance.

It wasn’t just the physical closeness, though. It was also in the way Logan has started to watch you—his sharp gaze a never ending constant. An all imposing, heavily looming shadow.

There were even times late at night when you thought he was asleep, that you’d find him staring at you in the dark.

Not the usual, protective gaze he’d have when he thought you were vulnerable, but something deeper, more intense. His breathing would be slow, measured, but there was this energy, this tension that hummed between the two of you.

The nights he did manage to sleep, he’d hold you close to him, his grip iron-tight, his face buried in your hair. If you tried to shift away, even for a second, he’d stir, his arms pulling you back with a quiet, possessive growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

There were bite marks on your neck when you'd wake up, small enough to pass off as nothing—at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, but each one felt like a brand. They were deeper, more deliberate.

Then there was the scent—his scent.

You swear it’s gotten stronger, more potent. It clings to you like a second skin, lingering in your clothes, your sheets, even your hair. An intoxicating blend of leather and pine and musk that makes your head spin.

Each time you left the house without him, he’d pin you to the mattress and rub himself all over you before begrudgingly let you walk out the door. His hands or his face running along the delicate skin of your neck, of your stomach, of your wrists.

Everywhere.

He was claiming you in ways—new ways—that left you both exhilarated and confused.

There were other things too, smaller but no less odd things that were starting to add up.

More and more of your clothes have slowly started to go missing over the past few weeks. Each morning when you open any of your dresser drawers, it seems like there are less and less filling them.

Shirts, shorts, socks, bras, panties. All things you’ve found shoved under his side of the mattress or tucked under his pillow. The most memorable hiding place was the front pocket of his leather jacket, your favorite pair of panties haphazardly stuffed inside.

You haven’t said anything about it yet, unsure if you should be concerned or amused.

It isn’t like he’s truly hurting anyone.

He’s just acting…strange.

A part of you can’t help but be drawn to it—the new intensity, the new rawness. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he clings to you, like you're his anchor in a world constantly shifting beneath his feet.

You’ve seen Logan at his worst—bloody, broken, and lost. But this? It’s never been like this before.

Whatever it is, it has its claws in him deep, and by extension, you.

You just got home from a run, barely walking through the door and kicking your shoes off when a call of your name rings out from the bedroom.

Logan’s tone stops you in your tracks—low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.

Your reaction is nearly instant, breath hitching in your chest, heart skipping a beat as a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside starts to pulse through you steadily.

It’s like you’ve become reprogrammed to respond to him this way, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up as his deep, familiar voice rolls over the sweaty expanse of your skin.

You drop your bag at your feet and slowly make your way to the bedroom, a bead of sweat trailing down your temple as you push the door open.

All the curtains are closed, the only light in the room a yellow glow that shines from your bedside lamp.

Logan is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, but there’s nothing casual about his posture.

His gaze is locked on you, dark and intense, tracking every step you take, like a lion stalking a gazelle as it drinks from a watering hole.

“Didn’t tell me where you were going.” His eyes gleam as the lamp’s rays reflect off of them, his pupils dilated so he can see you better in the darkness that shrouds your room.

You swallow hard, trying to be as nonchalant as you can as your feet carry you to your dresser. “I went for a run,” you reply, your voice a little too steady, a little too casual.

You tug open the top drawer, rifling around for a clean shirt with a little more focus than necessary to distract yourself from the way his eyes burn a hole into your back.

“You didn’t tell me,” Logan repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t know where my girl is.”

There’s a sharp edge to his words, but it’s not anger—it’s something far more primal.

The energy in the room crackles like a storm about to break, and you feel it in your bones, in the way your skin prickles under his gaze.

"I was only gone for an hour," you say, your voice measured, careful. "You were still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to wake you."

You chance a glance over your shoulder, and the sight of him steals the air from your lungs.

Logan hasn’t moved an inch from his perch on the edge of the bed, but the sheer force of his presence keeps you rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.

“Hmm, that’s real sweet, baby,” he drawls, sitting up straighter now, leaning forward.

The motion makes him seem larger somehow, shoulders broad and imposing in the dim light. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and the way his gaze rakes over you feels like a physical touch, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Your fingers still in the drawer, fabric slipping from your grasp as your pulse pounds in your ears. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, caught in the snare of his sharp, predatory focus.

You turn slowly, arms falling to hang limply at your sides. "I wasn't gone long."

Logan tilts his head, a low, amused sound rumbling in his chest as he rises to his feet with a fluid, deliberate ease that makes your stomach flip.

“Didn’t feel that way to me, darlin’.” His voice is a deep, gravelly purr. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Felt like forever.”

His eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room, the green completely swallowed by the dark black of his pupils as they seep into the color like oil spilling out over the surface of a lake.

You’ve never seen him like this before, so hungry.

"Logan," you say slowly, back pressed tightly against your dresser. "You're really starting to freak me out."

Logan hums idly, head cocked to the side as he watches you. "I can hear your heartbeat."

His tone is calmer now, but there’s still a dangerous edge to it, like a knife pressed just lightly enough against the skin not to break it.

Your pulse races, heat simmering in your stomach despite the slight edge of fear clawing its way through your chest.

He stops in front of you, so close that his scent invades your senses strong enough to make your knees feel like they’re about to buckle beneath you.

“There’s nothin’ to be scared of baby,” he mutters quietly, thick arms coming up to cage you against the dresser.

Your hold on the wood tightens, your knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip.

It’s almost chemical, the way you can feel your body start to give in to him. The thought fills you with as much arousal as it does unease, a heady combination that churns in your stomach.

You muster up enough will to breathlessly nod in agreement, a quiet submission.

Logan’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk, his heavy gaze dipping to the curve of your neck, lingering on the rapid flutter of your pulse. “That’s my good girl.”

Any words you might say get caught in your throat as you stare up at Logan, wide eyed and steadily leaking wetness into the gusset of your panties.

His nostrils flare, and a knowing sound rumbles from somewhere dark and low in his chest as his eyes flutter shut on a deep inhale.

Your thighs clench together instinctively, the overwhelming need to be filled wracking through your body like thunder.

When Logan opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of anything but pure animal need. The muscles in his jaw working furiously under his skin in time with the strain of his forearms still caging you in place.

“Yeah…” he trails off slowly, tone both condescending and soothing all at once. “I know you’re not all that scared, honey.”

He leans in, tearing a small whimper from your throat at the way his beard scrapes against your cheek as he crowds you.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, hot and enticing as they brush against your skin when he speaks again. “I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”

Logan’s words send a sharp jolt through you, a broken moan falling from your parted lips as your cheeks heat up so fiercely it’s as if you’ve been slapped.

Your body moves without thinking, pressing up into his hard, unyielding frame like you can’t help it—and maybe you can’t.

“L–Logan…” Your voice trembles, a weak thing that dissolves in your throat as he noses along the skin of your neck.

His hands come down to rest on your waist, palms rough and possessive and warm and a perfect fit where they lay over your curves, anchoring you in place.

“Shhh.” His lips trail down your jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “You don’t gotta say a thing, princess. I know what you need.”

Logan’s hands slip lower, cupping the backs of your thighs with ease before hoisting you onto the dresser like you weigh nothing. The sharp edge of the wood digs into your legs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the discomfort.

Your hands go to his shoulders without much of a second thought, nails digging into corded muscle as you try to keep your balance.

Logan’s hands stay on your thighs, his grip strong enough for you to feel the power behind them without hurting you.

He noses along your sweaty skin like a hot-tempered hound, desperately inhaling greedy lungfuls of your scent wherever he can get it.

Behind your ear, in the crook of your neck, along your collarbone, the exposed swell of your breasts, dangerously close to your underarm.

He groans against your shoulder, a full body shiver jolting his frame. “Smell so fuckin’ good darlin’, drives me goddamn crazy.”

You can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a response. His mouth finally finds yours, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.

Logan's tongue slides against yours, a messy, desperate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

It’s filthy, fueled by nothing but raw need and desperation. Spit drips from your chin to trail down the length of your throat until it gathers in the valley of your breasts. Whether it’s his or yours, it doesn’t matter.

It’s a perfect mix of the both of you, lewd and messy in the way it claims your skin.

Logan breaks the kiss with a low moan, his chest heaving the same as yours as you both inhale harsh lungfuls of air.

His lips are red and raw, swollen in a way that your own must mirror. A string of saliva keeps you connected, drooping thinner and thinner in the space between you until it breaks under the weight of gravity.

Logan doesn’t give you long to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw and latch onto the sensitive spot just below your ear, teeth scraping against skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark.

Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth moves lower, dragging the strap of your sports bra down with his teeth.

The way he’s acting—like a man crazed, like he needs you more than he needs air—has you dizzy with need. But there's a part of you that’s still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, to hold onto something familiar in the chaos.

It’s only then that you realize this may be a bad idea.

Whatever this is, is clearly an accumulation of all the things you’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks.

Maybe indulging Logan will only make things worse, like giving in to him when he’s in such a state could be the tipping point to a much deeper and all consuming issue buried somewhere inside of him.

It can’t possibly be healthy for him to act like this, and it can’t be healthy for you to bask in it as much as you are.

“W–wait.” Your thighs slip shut, hands coming up to push at Logan’s shoulders weakly.

There’s no real force behind your ministrations and you keep your neck bared to him all the while, but he stops anyway, rearing back with a displeased noise.

His face hovers inches from yours, and for a moment, you swear he looks almost pained—his brows furrowing, jaw tightening as though reigning himself in is a Herculean effort.

His hands remain on your thighs, trembling slightly as he keeps himself rooted in place, clearly fighting every instinct roaring through him to just take what he wants.

“You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the restraint in his expression. His thumbs stroke idly against your skin, his touch soothing even as his words drip with pure, feral confidence. “I can smell the way your pussy’s achin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re shakin’ for me.”

You are—your whole body feels like it’s on the verge of unraveling under his touch, your resolve crumbling faster than you’d like to admit.

Everything you were going to say gets clogged in your brain on the way out, leaving you silent as you hold his gaze.

You don’t even have the capability to feel embarrassed at the way you blanch, lost in the way his scent attacks your senses, in the rough drag of his palms over your bare thighs, in the way your lips still tingle from his kiss.

Logan sighs, long and all suffering as his hands come to rest on both of your shut knees. The impatient raise of his brow paired with the dissatisfied curl of his lips is enough to shake you to the core.

“Now, you gonna show it to me?” His fingers drum along your knee, his patience thinning. “Or am I gonna have to make you.”

And it may sound like one, but you know it’s not a question.

It’s a choice.

Your mind races, hands clenching and unclenching on Logan’s shoulders as you weigh your options. His own hands squeeze your knees, just hard enough to let you feel it in your bones.

You spread your legs.

Logan doesn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you with a satisfied rumble and a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider. Wide enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way.

Your head dips, chin falling to your chest as you watch the way Logan takes up the space between your legs. Your shorts are soaked, fabric so drenched that it’s melded to the shape of your cunt, your puffy folds on display for his greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his voice cracking like a whip in the quiet room. His hands find your waistband, and the dull sound of fabric ripping rings out.

The sturdy cotton tears like tissue paper in his hands, the scraps of your shorts falling carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the light blue panties you slipped on before your run.

The way he gazes at the space between your thighs is feral, unrestrained, like he’s a man starving for his next meal—and you’re it.

“Look at that…” Logan mutters, almost to himself as he runs his knuckle along the wet cotton of your panties. His touch is featherlight, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough.

Your breath hitches, a sharp intake of air at the teasing touch, and your hips instinctively cant forward, silently begging for more.

Logan's eyes flick up to yours, a dark smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and how much you're already falling apart.

“Eager fuckin’ thing,” he drawls, voice rough with arousal. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You want me to give your pussy some kisses, baby?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words never make it out. Logan’s lips press against the damp fabric, placing a kiss right over where your covered clit throbs with need.

Your head falls back to rest on the wall behind you, a shocked moan bursting from your lips.

“Logan.” His name is pulled from your mouth like a plea, but he doesn’t let up, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the soaked barrier of your underwear.

“Hmm?” He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. “Thought you wanted me to stop?”

The taunt is maddening, the rasp of his voice and the teasing flicks of his tongue combining to unravel you piece by piece.

You shake your head furiously, thighs trembling where they rest on his broad shoulders. “N-no—don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Logan chuckles darkly, his hands sliding up your thighs to hook his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties.

“That’s more like it,” he taunts. With a single, sharp tug, the ruined fabric joins the scraps of your shorts on the floor.

Logan groans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your juices and flushed with arousal. His mouth waters, his tongue running along the sharp points of his canines in anticipation.

You’re already so ready for him.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he growls, leaning in to drag his nose along the slick seam of your folds. The deep inhale he takes is obscene, sending a ripple of anticipation through your entire body. “Know that you taste even better.”

Logan licks a broad stripe through your folds, groaning like the taste of you is enough to satisfy him completely. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you spread and utterly at his mercy as he begins to work in earnest.

He alternates between laving the tip of his tongue over your clit and dipping down to fuck into you, his beard scraping along the skin of your thighs in a way that’s almost too much. Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a soft thud as your vision blurs.

“God, Logan.” You squirm on the vanity, but he holds you steady, growling low and deep into your core like your moaning only spurs him on.

“That’s it,” he mutters between licks, his words unmistakably smug. “Make those pretty little sounds for me, baby.”

Logan circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, alternating between firm, deliberate strokes and light, teasing flicks that leave you gasping for air.

You cry out, fingers tangling in his thick, unruly hair as he repeats the motions, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head.

Every time your hips buck against him, he growls, the vibrations of it sinking into your skin and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Stay still,” he orders, his voice muffled against your dripping core but no less commanding. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place with an unrelenting grip. “You’re not in charge, sweetheart.”

You whimper, your whole body trembling as you fight the urge to grind against his face. But it’s impossible to stay still when he’s licking into you like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with an intensity that has your vision going hazy.

“I know, you're just so damn needy, aren’t you, baby?” He drawls , pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You love this, hmm? Lettin’ me take care of you?”

You can only nod, words failing you as his fingers replace his mouth, sliding through your spit soaked cunt.

“You’re so goddamn pretty down here.” Logan mutters, almost to himself, spreading your puffy, abused folds obscenely wide.

He teases your entrance, fingertips dipping into your warm heat only to retract a second later. You whine, high and embarrassing as your hips twitch with want.

Logan watches your face closely, his expression equal parts smug and adoring as he finally sinks one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your head lolling back he adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that has your toes curling. He pumps them slowly at first, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

“Takin’ me so well,” Logan murmurs, his thumb brushes over your clit, drawing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. “So tight and wet for me. You’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’.”

Your moans grow louder, unrestrained, as he picks up the pace, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that has your skin burning hotter and hotter.

Logan’s mouth returns to you with renewed fervor, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem as he drags you closer to the edge.

He shakes his head back and forth like an animal, his nose rubbing up against your clit deliciously as buries his tongue as deep in your cunt as it’ll go. The coarse hair of his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs red and raw.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you.

“Logan—” Your voice cracks, your head falling back against the wall as the spring of pleasure inside you winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”

“Good,” he growls, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. I want you to come for me, baby. Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”

You’re powerless to resist.

You cry out, thighs clamping shut on either side of his head as you come on his tongue. Your body shakes so violently you knock a few things off the vanity, the distant sound of glass shattering hardly registers.

Logan growls, low and dragged from the back of his throat in such a way that makes it reverberate in the space between your legs. His own arms come up, grip strong and encouraging as he forces your legs around his head even tighter than before.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping his fingers to drag you through the aftershocks like a man obsessed.

When you finally come back to yourself, panting and trembling, Logan’s holding your shaking thighs apart, his mouth still pressed to you in soft, languid strokes.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, voice rough and gravelly as he presses a final kiss to your oversensitive clit.

Logan’s hands slide up to your hips, gripping tight as he rises to his feet, towering over you with that same dark, predatory gleam in his eyes.

His lips are even redder than before, swollen and slick with your juices. His beard is damp and shining in the low light, and the smug, satisfied smirk on his face sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.

“Good girl,” he purrs, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all heat and possession.

You can taste yourself on his tongue, the salt and musk mingling with the raw hunger. It’s filthy and intoxicating, and it leaves you gasping for air when he finally pulls away.

But Logan’s far from finished.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting you off the dresser with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed and tosses you on it with little preamble.

Your back hits the mattress hard enough to have you bouncing on it once, twice, three times before Logan is crawling up to blanket your body with his.

The heavy weight of his metal laced bones sink you into the soft plushness, keeping you stuck beneath him with nowhere to go.

Which you know is exactly where he wants you.

He slots his hips between yours, dragging the straining jut of his cock along your sensitive cunt. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thick material of his sweats, a scalding plane of heat that makes your cunt ache with need.

You can feel the damp patch where his clothed tip nudges against your clit, and you know from that alone he’s already soaked through the cotton with pre-come. His cock leaking like a faucet in the harsh confines of his bottoms while he ate you out.

“Feel that?” Logan asks, voice hoarse as he buries his head in your neck. “That’s all ‘cause of you, baby. Got me drippin’ like I busted a damn pipe.”

The sharp intake of air you suck in at his words does nearly nothing to help your breathlessness, your desperation bleeding through as your frantic hands push at the waistband of his bottoms. “Off. Off.”

Logan huffs a rough laugh against your neck, his warm breath skating across your skin as his lips ghost over your pulse. “So fuckin’ bossy.”

He doesn’t move to help you, not right away, savoring the way your hands fumble and tug, your frustration bubbling over in breathy little gasps.

“You want it that bad, huh?” he teases, the rough timbre of his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his lips pressing along your jaw. “Look at you, so damn needy. Can’t even wait for me to get my cock out.”

You only tug harder, patience nonexistent as your fingers curl into the waistband. “Please, Logan. Don’t tease.”

“Alright, alright.” Logan finally gives in, sitting back just enough to push them over his hips, freeing his cock.

It springs free, slapping against his stomach heavy and slick with pre-come, the ruddy tip glistening in the low light.

The sight alone has you clenching around nothing, a devastatingly desperate noise falls from your lips as the ache between your thighs builds to an almost unbearable throb.

He makes quick work of ripping his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him before he’s back on you.

This time, when he bullies his hips in between yours, there's nothing separating you.

You feel every inch of his cock as it grinds along the seam of your cunt. The velvety skin is almost scalding as it drags against your own, the drool of pre-come only adding more to your own wetness.

Logan presses you into the mattress harder, rutting against your cunt almost desperately as he noses along your damp, overheated skin.

His mouth is everywhere. Sucking marks where the junction of your neck meets your shoulder, lapping up the sweat that pools in the valley of your breasts, licking a filthy stripe across the side of your face that has your cheeks burning.

He buries his nose in the sweaty skin of your underarm, whining and panting like a surly dog all over again. Each breath is hot and wet against you, and it only seems to make him hungrier, greedier. His cock blurts even more pre-come onto your skin with every inhale he takes.

It should gross you out.

It should be utterly mortifying, but the sight of Logan like this only leaves you thrumming with want.

His desperation, the raw, unfiltered way he takes you in—like he can’t get close enough, can’t have enough of you—has your pulse racing and your mind spinning out of control.

You feel his nose press harder against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over you as he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates right through you.

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly and broken. “You smell so goddamn good. Can’t help it. Can’t fuckin’—” His hips jerk, the weight of his cock sliding slickly against your cunt, bumping up against your clit in a way that makes you shiver.

“Logan,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the friction, the relief, the unbearable stretch you know only he can give you. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you—need you so bad.”

He smirks, his lips curling against your skin as he nips at the curve of your jaw. “Need me, huh?” he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. “Need my cock inside you, stretchin’ you open? Tell me, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.”

“So bad.” Your hips tilt up instinctively, desperate for him to push inside. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, the blunt pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Need you so bad it hurts. Please—please don’t make me wait.”

Logan growls, a feral sound. “Such a good girl when you beg for me.” he snarls, big hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise so he can flip you on your front, gently manhandling you until you're on all fours. “Gonna fill you up, princess.”

His hands knead the soft flesh of your ass as he lines himself up behind you. The weight of his cock presses against your entrance, slick and ready, and for a moment, he just stays there, teasing.

Your arms shake beneath you, elbows locked as you force yourself to stay still, patient.

The head of his cock nudges against you, spreading your slickness, and your body trembles in anticipation. He sinks himself into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.

The stretch is instant, the burn delicious as he pushes inside, inch by inch, filling you in one fluid, devastating stroke. A choked gasp spills from your lips as he bottoms out, his cock seated so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck.” Logan stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he lets you adjust, but the restraint is fleeting.

His hands glide up your back, palms rough and grounding as they map every curve, every quiver of your body. He starts grinding his hips in slow circles, pressing every inch of his cock along your velvety walls.

Your head drops between your arms, brows pinched together as you take in greedy lungfuls of air. You’ll never get used to this, the way Logan fills you so perfectly, no matter how many times it’s been.

“Come on, baby.” Logan leans down to press a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, his lips fever hot. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you could hardly wait. Now’s your chance, fuck me.”

It takes a few long seconds for his words to cunt through the molasses clouding your mind, the small thrust of his hips hinting at what he wants you to do.

You let out a pitiful whimper, hands digging into your bed’s puffy comforter as you start rocking your hips.

You start slow, letting yourself build up a nice, steady rhythm as Logan purrs words of encouragement from behind you. His hands never leave your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your skin as you start to pick up the pace.

“That’s it,” he encourages darkly, giving the rippling muscle of your ass a sharp swat. “Find the fuckin’ spot, baby. Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

You cry out at the sting of his palm, bouncing yourself on his length impossibly faster. Your arms burn under the strain of your movements, but you can’t stop chasing the high of pleasure that shoots up your spine.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, a lewd slap slap slap as you fuck yourself on Logan’s cock like he’s a replacement for the cheap suction cup dildo collecting dust in a box hidden away in your closet—like he’s nothing but a expertly shaped lump of silicon molded solely for your pleasure.

You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and in nearly no time at all. The telltale coil buried deep in your belly winding tighter and tighter as you work yourself on Logan’s cock hard enough that the cheap frame of your bed thumps against the wall.

It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, so fuck drunk that the too loud moans falling from your lips hardly phase you.

It's like there's nothing but the feel of Logan inside you, bumping against that spot inside you that has stars shining behind your closed eyes.

“Close already?” Logan taunts from behind you, voice just the tiniest but breathless, but the way his cock pulses and jerks where it’s sheathed in your cunt lets you know he’s right there with you. “I know you are, honey. I can feel how she’s squeezin’ me, so damn tight.”

His hands dig into your hips, not even waiting for a response as he starts thrusting in time with your bounces. He pounds into you, hips snapping against your ass hard enough to sting.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come too baby,” he bites out, the rhythm of his hips getting sloppier. “Gonna come so fuckin’ hard, fill you up so good. Shit–”

Logan pulls out enough that only the thick tip of his cock stays sheathed in the warmth of your cunt, his body falling to hunch over yours as he pumps his come into you with a feral growl.

You whine at the feeling of his release filling you, painting your insides with spurt after spurt of thick come. It’s so much, it’s always so much. A rush of warmth that floods your insides each time without fail.

And just like that, the feeling alone has you coming.

Your back arches as your cunt gushes over the tip of his cock, drenching his thighs and the rest of his shaft in your essence. You think you may scream, but it’s hard to tell over the white noise rushing through your ears.

Your arms finally buckle under you as Logan helps you ride out the last few tremors of your orgasm with a few slow rocks of his hips, and your spent body collapses onto the mattress.

Logan’s low noises of pleasure barely register as your chest heaves almost violently, your lungs desperately trying to get as much air as they possibly can.

But you barely have time to catch your breath before Logan plants his knees back firmly on the mattress and starts thrusting, again.

“Logan!” Your hands scramble for purchase on the mussed sheets of your bed, the overstimulation making your legs kick out frantically.

“You thought we were done?” Logan asks, his tone equal parts amused and mocking. “You popped twice already, baby. S’only fair that you let me catch up.”

With no warning, he takes you in his arms, pulling his cock out just long enough to flip you on your back. He throws your legs over his shoulders before plunging back inside your fucked open cunt with a filthy squelch.

He feels even bigger like this, yet your body swallows his cock like it’s nothing. The spongy warmth of your walls melding to the shape of him like it’s what you were made for.

The coarse hair of his happy trail drags across your clit each time he thrusts, adding to the blistering feeling where the knife's edge of too much too much too much meets not nearly enough.

His come stuffed in your trembling cunt only makes it all the more filthy, his cock plunging inside you and coming back out slick and wet on every thrust.

Your lips fall open on a broken moan, eyes screwing shut as you work your cunt around him, feeling the way his release gets fucked deeper and deeper inside you.

Logan notices, of course he does.

A dark chuckle rumbles against your own as he leans down enough to whisper into your slack mouth. “You like havin’ someone come in your pussy, baby?”

You moan into his mouth unabashedly, loudly. Both of your eyes burning as tears threaten to fall down the flushed skin of your cheeks, your throat going dry and scratchy in the best way possible.

“Shit–” Your hands claw at the rippling muscles of his back desperately, nails digging into his skin hard enough that you feel the unmistakable slickness of his blood coating the tips of your fingers.

The pain spurs him on, his head tips down on a low groan and his eyes squeezing together for a split second before he’s spewing filth again.

“You want some more?” Logan asks, tone going dark like he already knows the answer as his hips speed up impossible faster. “You want me to come again?”

You don’t respond, you can’t respond. You can barely make a coherent thought.

All you can manage are whiny moans that fall from your slack lips, broken little uh uh uh’s that get punched out with each new thrust. Your nails rake down his back mercilessly, leaving behind deep red welts that heal as you go.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He turns his head to nip at the skin over the delicate bone of your ankle where it bounces near his head, sharp teeth digging in enough to have you whining pitifully. “You love havin’ a messy fuckin’ pussy, don’t you? Love being stuffed so full of my come you can’t even hold it all, huh?”

His words hit you like a physical blow, lighting up your body from the inside out. Your thighs shake where they’re wrapped around his hips, ankles locking over his lower back so he couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.

His come mixes with your juices to coat his cock, completely drenched all slick and shiny in the dull light of your bedroom. It drips down almost leisurely compared to the near feral snap of his hips, trailing all the way down his length to his heavy balls.

“Yes.” He groans, reverent. “Give it to me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock again, feels so fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough—”

You’ve never heard him like this, so high of pleasure that his speech slurs and his words all meld together into one filthy stream of ramblings that has you sinking your nails even deeper into his back and coming on his cock with a loud wail.

Your cunt convulses around him, shaking with the force of your release, milking him.

“Fuck, princess.” Logan pitches forward, his sweaty torso covering yours as he keeps fucking into your shaking body, desperately chasing his own release.

Finally, with a muted roar of your name, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck and comes for you.

You cry out at the sharp sting of his teeth bearing down hard enough to draw blood, your vision whiting out with the pleasure of being claimed in every way imaginable.

Logan’s hips only stop when he’s drained of every last drop, his body shaking where it lays over yours. He laps at the broken skin of your neck, a soft gesture that isn’t quite an apology for making you bleed—because you know that he isn’t sorry whatsoever—but it’s nice nonetheless.

Your arms come up to circle around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion hits you all at once. You get lost in the steady rhythm of Logan catching his breath, in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage where his chest is pressed to your own, in the way his fingers twitch and flex on your hips.

The last thing you hear as you drift off, his come starting to leak down your thighs in thick streams of white, is a hushed whisper of “I got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m always right here.”

It puts you at ease, all the worry you felt over the last few weeks slipping from your mind like grains of sand through your fingers.

Maybe, this new side of Logan isn’t so bad after all.

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ponderingmoonlight · 7 months ago

Text

Sharing a bed with kny men

Pairings: Yoriichi x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,7k (lmao)

Warnings: injury in Yoriichi's part, smut in Sanemi's part so read if you're 18+, this is a long ass fic y'all, not proofread

This is actually my first time posting Sanemi smut and I'm super scared. Let me know what you think 🥹🤍

Also, do you want me to do other characters too?🫶

Yoriichi

I heard you @laurencrsnt 🫶

All your life, you never even thought about the possibility that maybe, you’ll encounter a demon someday. Why you, out of all people? Why especially you?

Even now with its cold eyes glaring down at you and your shoulder ripped open by its claws, you fail to find an answer for that. Is it your fate to die right here, when you only went out at night in order to buy medicine for your little sister who has fever? Is dying the cruelest death really your destiny when you wish for nothing more than growing old and watching your own children live their lives?

It’s unfair.

You shouldn’t lay here, crumpled onto the still wet street. You shouldn’t feel the sensation of your eyes watering, your hands trembling, your heart racing.

This shouldn’t be your last day walking on this earth. You didn’t even have the chance to find the man of your dreams yet…

It’s ridiculous and you know it, that spark of determination that rushes through your bones. All of the sudden you spring back onto your feet and start running. Out of the city, away from the lit streets straight into the dark woods.

Even if you have to die here, you won’t give up this easily. You won’t allow this demon to end your life without putting up a fight.

“Why do you girls always think you can run away, huh? It’s too easy to sweep you off your feet”, the demon behind you comments dryly.

With a swift motion of his hand, it digs open your tender flesh all over again, sends your violent scream echoing through the lonely forest. You fall to the ground like a bag of rice, your torn leg now refusing its service completely.

“Let me go!”, you shriek in horror.

No, you don’t want to die here, you just want to go back to bed and forget about this.

But the forest ground isn’t your bed and the demon in front of you who’s ready to slice through your throat isn’t only a nightmare.

Your heart sinks to the floor, body suddenly feeling numb and lifeless. You will die here.

“I’ll keep you in good memory. Well, at least for tonight”, the demon jeers at you.

You close your eyes, desperately try to imagine your little sister. She’ll find herself a loving husband and her very own family without any doubt. Even without you around, her life will turn out alright. Even without you around, life goes on. You don’t have to feel sad or guilty, you just have to let go…

“Get away from that woman.”

A low male voice, so charismatic that you think you might dream. He sure must be handsome. Men with voices like that always have a matching face.

A slicing blade, a dull thud. But no claws that dig into your flesh one last time, no bow of relief that you’ve been awaiting for quite some time by now. Your eyelids start shivering. When is this finally over?

“Are you alright? Please allow me to help you up.”

The second something touches your skin, your eyes snap open in an instant. But they aren’t greeted by those venomous red orbs from earlier. No, these ones are soft but strong and have that calming fuchsia color. This isn’t a demon.

This is a man.

“Don’t be afraid. The demon is gone”, he continues speaking with his low voice.

You have no control over your own body and shivering limbs. It’s impossible for you to say a single word. Are you really out of danger? Is it really over?

When he pulls you off the ground, a violent scream escapes your lips. No, you don’t want to die, you don’t want your life to end tonight. Not like this, not without saying goodbye.

“Please calm down, everything is alright now”, the stranger tries to reassure you, but his words don’t even reach your ringing ears.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, forehead now covered in ice cold sweat. This can’t be your end.

If Yoriichi doesn’t act now, you might faint due to your stress. But what is he supposed to do? You don’t seem to listen to his words and touching you might only make it worse. Maybe you need, assurance?

“I won’t hurt you, see? My hands have no intention of doing you any harm.”

Gently, he glides his fingertips up and down your uninjured harm. Despite the look of horror on your face and your gaping wounds, you do have a lovely face and truly remarkable eyes.

“I came here to help you”, he continues until his fingertips finally brush over your tear-soaked face.

What is this feeling of warmth deep inside his chest? You aren’t the first woman he saved from the claws of a demon.

“I would like to accompany you on your way back home-“

“No”, you suddenly blurt out.

Even though lying in bed on your own was all you were able to think about just a few moments ago, the thought feels like a threat now. What if another demon follows you back home? What if your little sister gets attacked because of your foolishness? No, you simply can’t go back now. But on the other hand…Just the thought of sleeping alone here in the woods runs shivers down your spine.

“I…I’ll find a place to stay. Otherwise…they might harm my sister…”, you mutter.

“Allow me to escort you to my estate, then.”

You yank your head to the side in sheer disbelief, eyes searching for a spark of humor in his calming orbs. Is he really serious about that? After all, you’re a stranger. He doesn’t even know your name. Now that you think of it…who is this?

“How can I know for sure that you aren’t a demon yourself?”

“Take my hand”, he instructs you gently.

Is this really a good idea? You take a deep breath in, try to calm down your pounding heart. What do you have to lose?

When your shaky fingers wrap themselves around his much larger hand, you get ingulfed by warmth. His palms feel rough but also comforting against your bruised skin.

“Demons are cold since they are dead”, he explains briefly.

“But I am not. I am a demon slayer. It is my only destiny to safe innocent souls from their death.”

Oh. Your gaze drifts towards a katana that hangs dangles from his belt. No, demon don’t find with those weapons. So, are those words really true?

“You…You want to help me?”

“I’d love to help you if you allow me to.”

What has gotten into him? Did he really offer you to hold his hand, let alone to sleep at his house so you don’t have to fear the night on your own? Never in his life, Yoriichi allowed himself to develop feelings apart from empathy for those around him.

But those eyes. Those eyes of yours really captivate him, devour him fully. How is he supposed to leave you out here, soaked in your own blood with bruises all over your body?

“You…really would?”

Is this really okay? When you were a child, your mother told you over and over that you aren’t allowed to talk to strangers, let alone man.

But…does that also include the handsome, charismatic and armored ones?

“I keep my word. Also, your wounds need care as well. Please, allow me to help you.”

What do you have to lose.

“If that’s the case, I’d love to take your offer”, you reply shyly.

“I’m glad to hear that. I will show you the way-“

A loud groan escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. His charismatic eyes almost made you forget about the gaping wound the monster from before inflicted on you.

Almost.

“You shouldn’t move your leg with a wound like that. I will carry you to my estate.”

“You will…carry me?”, you mutter with widened eyes.

But just when you try to take a step forward, his words become painfully clear. No, there really is no way you’ll be able to walk anywhere with that leg. But allowing him to carry you?

“I might be a little heavy.”

“Let me assure you, you aren’t heavy at all.”

“Fine…”, you grumble.

“But only a few meters.”

Gently, he stranger wraps his arms around your shoulder and knees before he starts walking.

He smells good. Like a field of flowers on a sunny day. And the way his heart beats against your cheek reminds you that you’re still alive, that you survived somehow.

This man saved you.

“I didn’t even thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. This is the least I can do for you after I almost came too late.”

He stares blankly at the blood that still drips from your leg. Just a few seconds later and that demon would have killed you with him simply watching. Why? Why is he not able to save them all, why is he still not good enough to stop this madness?

“Don’t tense up, don’t think anything less of yourself because I was injured. I was a fool for leaving the house this late at night on my own.”

Despite the fact that cold sweat still runs down your forehead and even though your fingertips still shake in shock, you cup his cheek and force his troubled eyes to look at you.

“I am beyond thankful for my rescue. The worst thing about dying today would have been leaving my little sister behind. But you saved me. And not only that, you even offered me a safe place to stay for the night. I really don’t know if…If I’d be able to sleep on my own tonight…”

The stranger doesn’t say a word, his eyes roaming around your face without a real aim.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask. What’s your name?”

“My name is not important-“

“I’m (y/n)”, you introduce yourself friendly.

“My…my name is Yoriichi”, the man carrying you mumbles.

Yoriichi. An unusual name that you’ve never heard before.

“That name suits you well.”

“We’ll arrive soon. I hope you don’t expect a big mansion since I am living in a rather small cottage-“

“I’m living in a tiny barrack in the city. A house in the woods sounds like a dream”, you mutter.

The second you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a wooden cabin with a plain futon lying on the floor and an improvised kitchen in the back of the house. Nothing special, very fitting for the man who gently lowers you onto the futon.

“I will take care of your wounds now”, he announces before taking off his haori and katana.

Without his threatful weapon dangling from his belt, he looks like a normal man.

If it wasn’t for those captivating eyes. He has to be the most breathtaking man you’ve ever seen.

“Fortunately, the cut on your leg isn’t deep. I’ll disinfect the wound and bandage it”, he explains briefly before his skilled hands spring into action.

“You really are good at everything”, you comment.

He’s so gentle that even the alcohol that disinfects your wound doesn’t seem to burn. Why have you never stumbled across him? You were so sure that you know each and every man around that it almost drove you insane. But him? He’s different from all the others. He’s truly special.

“You will have to take your kimono off. I need access to the wound on your shoulder.”

Oh.

“Y-yeah, sure…”

Hesitantly, you pull the blood-soaked fabric down your shoulder so that only your chest is still covered. Yoriichi’s eyes seem to gleam in the moonlight like liquid metal.

“You look lovely”, he flusters into the night.

He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. Is it the alcohol rising up his nose, the smell of blood that radiates from your bruised body that makes him say those strange things?

No. It has to be because of those eyes of yours. Those eyes that captivated him from the moment he first saw them.

"Thank you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing as you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You too," you add quickly, immediately regretting your awkward response.

Both you and Yoriichi swallow hard, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing.

“I am finished. You should rest for tonight. After all, this was a draining fight for you”, he mutters while getting up.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, heart still hammering so roughly against your ribcage that you’re almost sure he’s able to hear it. What was this tension?

“But…this is your futon-“

“You are my guest. Of course, I will sleep on the floor on the other side of the room.”

Oh. A wave of disappointment rushes over you before you’re able to stop it. What were you expecting, secretly hoping? That this man will share a bed with you?

Honestly, yes.

“You…you really don’t have to…”

Oh, how much Yoriichi wished he wouldn’t have to.

“I insist on taking the floor.”

“I actually want you to sleep by my side. Please.”

The begging tone in your voice stops him mid-track.

“This night was…horrible. A little company would definitely help, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all”, he replies a little too hasty.

“I just don’t want to invade your personal space. After all, I’m a stranger.”

“A really kind stranger”, you add shyly.

Are you acting out of line? You shouldn’t push him to sleep next to you when his offer to let you sleep here is already generous enough, right?

“Forget my question, I was acting out of line-“

“No, not at all. I would love sleeping besides you.”

He crosses the room in an instant and kneels down next to you.

“But let me know whenever I become too much.”

What a ridiculous thought. Why would he ever become too much? Him, your savior, that remarkable man.

You scoot over until your back is pressed against the cool wall, eyes still fixated on his gleaming eyes. Will you really be able to sleep tonight when this is the first time ever a man lies beside you?

And what a handsome one on top.

“You should try to sleep now. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here”, he reassures you.

That is the least he can do after failing to protect you in the first place.

“Again, thank you for all of this. I definitely own you a favor”, you mumble.

Suddenly your lids start to get heavy, your mind slows down bit by bit. Maybe this rough night really took its toll on you. Is It the safety he radiates, his calming smell? In the matter of seconds, only your low and even breath is heard.

Finally, Yoriichi is able to allow himself a closer look at you. You look so peaceful and innocent with a face so remarkably beautiful that he can’t stop staring. You have to be the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. A man like him really doesn’t deserve lying next to a woman like you. Maybe he should give you space, leave you now that you fell asleep-

With a quiet groan, you draw closer to him in your sleep until your head rests on top of his chest and with your arms wrapped around his upper body.

He doesn’t dare to move an inch, eyes widen in utter surprise. Is this…cuddling? His mind races back and forth, eyes resting on your calm features. What is he supposed to do now?

Hesitantly, he allows his hand to rest on your back. What an unknown sensation, all those feelings that rise up his chest right where your hand rests.

For the first time since forever, he is the one who feels safe.

He is the one who feels loved.

He is the one who feels warm.

And you? You cuddle yourself against him until the sun rises all over again.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

This one's for you @muichirolover14 🤍

“This is bullshit”, the man walking next to you mumbles under his breath.

“Keep focused. It was Kagaya-sama’s personal wish that the two of us go on this mission together”, you mumble with a fake smile decorating your bright red lips.

And that’s the only reason why you agreed in the first place. Why else would you pretend to be Sanemi Shinazugawa’s personal concubine if it wasn’t for Kagaya-sama and this undercover mission?

The plan is pretty simple. Countless people, including other demon slayers, lost their lives in this little innocent village that becomes a red-light district at night. Nobody knows why or who is responsible for this.

One of the upper moons, maybe.

It just made sense to dress you up as a concubine. After all, you are the light hashira, a mighty swordswoman and probably the most talented out of Mitsuri and Shinobu when it comes to acting.

And then there’s him. You glance at Sanemi’s annoyed face from the side. Why on earth did Kagaya-sama choose him? What about Rengoku, Giyu, Obanai, Tengen, Gyomei? Aren’t they a way better fit?

You sign to yourself.

Truth is, they aren’t. While Rengoku, Obanai, Tengen and Gyomei would stand out immediately, Giyu would never be able to sell you as his concubine. No, no one except the wind hashira is able to make this look natural.

No one but him looks this good in a dark green kimono.

What?

“Stop staring at me like that, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I was just hoping you might disappear if I stare long enough, idiot”, you bite back in frustration.

Why does he always have to be so mean, though? You really tried to get along with him countless times, put on the most precious smile whenever you talked to him and made sure to always bring him ohagi whenever you had the chance to. But Sanemi Shinazugawa never stopped hating you. And eventually, a part of you started to dislike him as well. That one part though…

You allow your eyes a minor glimpse at his barely exposed chest. That tiny part deep within your head is somehow still drawn to him. And you hate it.

“Aren’t concubines supposed to shut up?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll leave immediately.”

“Both of us know you wouldn’t do that.”

You let out your shaky breath, your hand crushing his while you wear the same friendly smile as before.

“Don’t mess with me, Shinazugawa”, you speak out with low voice.

His face tenses up ever so slightly, hand fighting for freedom out of your merciless grasp.

“You’ll regret talking to me like that when we’re alone, brat.”

-at the estate-

“I’d like to show you to my newest possession. Please introduce yourself”, Sanemi speaks out.

Like Amane-sama showed you, you bow in front of the man that looks you up and down with his filthy eyes.

“My name is Kiyomi”, you introduce yourself oh so sweetly.

“That name really suits you. What a beauty you are. I’m sure I’d find a lot of paying customers for you here”, the disgusting man purrs and stretches out his hand in order to touch your face.

“Don’t touch the goods”, Sanemi barks at him immediately before slapping his dirty hand away.

Who does this guy think he is, trying to touch you so casually? No. That jerk isn’t allowed to caress your face. The plain thought of men like him getting to put their hands on you…

Sanemi’s guts turn.

“Aren’t you here to sell her and yourself for the night? If that’s the case, she won’t be your good anymore for the next few hours but mine.”

He smiles at you through rotten teeth, his breath almost forcing you to choke. You are only here to detect the demon who is responsible for the countless deaths in this area. You don’t have to touch any of these men. None of them will touch you.

What about Sanemi, though? An uneasy feeling rises up your chest when your eye catches a group of women who stare him up and down with lust in their eyes. Will he allow himself a taste before continuing with this mission? Will he find a woman he is attracted to? All of them look flawless, too good to even consider the service of a paid men. But if that man looks like Sanemi…

“You will find your room to the right. This is where the female customers choose their good. After paying, you belong to them”, the man explains briefly while showing both of you around.

“Why would these women pay for the services of a man? This is a noble region that is well-inhabited by countless men”, you blurt out.

“It’s not about them being men. It’s about looks. Only the fine-looking men even get the chance to work here for the night”, he explains briefly.

Fine-looking man, huh? Well, there is no doubt in the fact that Sanemi suits that description way too good. With his firm muscles highlighted by scars from countless battles, he looks like a walking god. Let alone his perfect face, his eyes that now look soft and seducing without being irritated constantly. His white hair that frames his features perfectly.

“As for the women, we look for a broad variety of bodies, looks and personalities. You are very easy on the eye and mysterious. I’m sure countless customers will fall for that.”

“And what…what services do they expect?”

The man in front of you bursts out in hysteric laughter, you can feel Sanemi’s eyes piercing through your skull.

“What they expect? Intercourse and everything that revolves around it, of course! Do you think they pay you for some cuddles and nice words?”

You swallow hard. There is no need to do that, right? You’ll somehow shrug them off and investigate this place at night. Maybe you’ll find the demon right away and-

“Now, you are a fine-looking man. Who is this?”, a woman suddenly purrs out of the shadows.

“A new worker for the night”, the disgusting man explains with a dirty smile.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll definitely make a reservation.”

“It would be an honor, my lady”, suddenly replies in the same cheeky tone

Your guts turn in an instant, eyes narrowing slightly as you watch how a smile forms itself on Sanemi’s usual resting lips.

“What a gentleman he is. I cannot wait to meet you.”

“The honor is on my side, my lady.”

And then he steps in front of her. Elegantly, he grabs the hand she already holds out and kisses her knuckles. Your heartrate quickens, the warm flush that starts creeping up your face barely covered by your makeup.

Fucking asshole. So he’s acting like a jerk towards you all this time while treating other women like this? You hate the knot that forms itself in your throat, the disgusting feeling of disappointment that rushes over you.

Does he really hate you this much?

“Well, I think I should introduce myself to the customers as well. Have a pleasant night, Sir”, your monotone voice speaks out on its own.

With one last bow towards him, you follow the man into the women’s corridor without even gifting him a single look. Sanemi can’t help but furrow his eyebrows at your sudden reaction. Did you really want to get rid of him so badly? Maybe you’ll actually meet up with some of those guys and…

“Are you interested-“

“I will meet up with you later this evening, my lady. Please excuse me.”

Without another look or word, he storms into his assigned room and closes the door behind him.

Sanemi’s mind starts going insane. What if you actually like one of those guys? Or what if one of them hurts you, tries to force you into something you don’t want? He heard the worst stuff about places like this.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you go in the first place. Why you? This mission is way too dangerous for someone like you, for someone this gorgeous-

“I’m losing my fucking mind”, he mutters through gritted teeth.

“I can’t do this”, you breathe out in sheer panic while lying in bed.

No, just the thought of Sanemi having the fun of his life with that girl from earlier feels like ripping your beating heart out of your chest. Will he really share a bed with them?

If it’s for the mission, he definitely would. Nothing is greater than his urge to kill demons, especially when it comes to an upper ranked one. That little sacrifice wouldn’t stop him.

And it breaks your dumb heart.

A hard knock on the door rips you out of your running thoughts. Is this your first customer? All color drains from your face, eyes widen in horror with every bow against the wooden door.

“Just a moment”, your shaky voice shouts.

You…Do you have to look presentable? You have to think about the things you can tell him. Maybe you don’t even have to sleep with him, maybe this will distract you from the things Sanemi is probably doing right now.

You open the door.

And stare straight into the furious eyes of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Before you’re even able to react, he pushes himself into your room and closes the door behind him before yanking you against the wall.

“What did you do?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

Your heart starts hammering roughly against your ribcage. Him? Here?

“What the hell are you doing he-“

“Answer my question right now!”, he barks into your face.

“I didn’t do anything!”, you shriek.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“Has somebody touched you?”

His rough hands start running up and down your neck, yank the sleeves of your kimono upwards in a haste.

“What?”, you breathe out.

What the hell is going on? Just when you managed to pull your arm away from him, he grabs your wrist again with his face only inches away from yours.

“Did somebody touch you?”, he screams into your face.

“No!”, you cry back.

“But why would you even care? It looked like you had plenty of fun!”

He shakes his head while looking at you in utter surprise and confusion.

“What non-sense are you talking now-“

“Did you sleep with that woman from earlier when I was gone?”

God, you hate the way your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, you hate the way your eyes fill with hot tears. He came here to confront you with all those accusations while he was out there having the time of his life, while all you were able to think about is him?

“No, I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“Stop lying to me!”

“You’re the only one I want!”, he suddenly blurts out breathlessly.

“What?”, you utter in hushed panic.

This has to be a cruel joke, an unforgiving way to stop you from doing anything. Sanemi Shinazugawa, wanting you?

“Since I first saw you with your fucking perfect face and so melodic voice, I can’t think about anything else! You, sleeping with some random guy while I’m just a few doors away. I can’t take it!”

He grabs your head with both hands, eyes staring at you so intensely that you feel like collapsing any minute. If that’s really true, if that’s really how he feels…

“But…I want you too”, you squirm.

“I always wanted you, Sanemi.”

His lips crash against yours with so much power that you almost fall over. Suddenly his hands are all over your body, tongue unforgiving as he discovers your mouth with a passion you’ve never felt before. You allow your very own hands to finally discover the deep valleys of his muscular back, to let your hasty fingertips wander over his tight chest.

It becomes unbearable. Everything starts to become unbearable. That minor gap between your bodies, the clothes that still deny you full access to his naked skin, the feeling of not having enough.

“I need more”, you whimper against his lips, not even knowing what exactly you’re asking about.

Sanemi lifts you up with ease, not even breaking the kiss when he pushes you onto the bed with his massive body lingering on top of you.

You feel like suffocating in the most exquisite way.

“I’ll give you whatever you want”, he breathes against your lips that now find your neck.

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can stop his, body rearing up underneath him.

“S-Sanemi!”

“Fuck”, he hisses before his dark eyes meet you again in distress.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I…what?”

You can’t produce a single logical sound, head still spinning from the unknown sensation that starts building up inside your stomach. Is this what desire feels like?

“Tell me you want this too. Tell me you want me.”

“I wanted you all this time”, you reply without thinking twice.

With a swift motion, you find yourself engulfed by his arms with his lips caressing yours all over again. Like in trance, you begin opening his kimono, expose his bare skin to your merciless eyes.

“You look so shamelessly good”, you whimper.

Oh, how often you pondered about how his chest feels like, if his scars are soft or as rough as his walls.

“Can I…?”

His hands grab the ends of your kimono, eyes staring down at you flustered. Is that blush creeping up his cheeks?

“It’s just…You know…I’ve never done this before…”, you stammer.

“Do I look like I did, idiot?”, he mutters while gently taking off your kimono until you lay underneath him.

Completely naked.

“I mean, yes…”

“No, I didn’t”, he barks.

“I guess I waited for someone special…”

“I did as well”, you reply in an instant.

Is this real or are you dreaming? Sanemi Shinazugawa laying on top of you fully nude. Sanemi Shinazugawa stating that he likes you. Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand that start moving downwards…

Until he reaches between your legs and simply takes your breath away.

“Are you okay?”, he mutters, eyes filled with worry.

You nod absently, eyes rolling back into your skull. God, this feels like heaven. When a groan escapes his lips, you completely lose yourself. Out of instinct, you grab his neck and yank him even closer towards you, your hot breath clashing against his face.

“Sanemi!”

His name sounds like a prayer coming from your mouth, forces his fingers to move even faster. Is this good? Is he doing everything alright? Your whimpers grow louder and louder, nails digging into his now oversensitive skin with so much pressure that it threatens to burst. You look so gorgeous with your eyes pressed shut, your delicate mouth forming an “o”.

And then you burst right underneath him, scream his name over and over again with your legs shaking. He can’t wait no longer, can’t contain himself another second.

“I need you”, he mutters.

“Please, let me have you.”

“Yes”, you breathe out, mind still spinning when the firework that just exploded in your lower body slowly starts wearing off.

Until you feel him all over again. But this time, not his fingers. Your glossy eyes widen in utter surprise when he carefully stretches you out and disappears inside of you, hands holding onto him for dear life.

“Are you okay?”, he whimpers.

“Please…give me…more…”

He almost loses his mind, the new sensation almost eating him up alive. Countless nights, he dreamed about what it might be like to have you, what it would feel like. But the reality is so much better than any dream.

Sanemi picks up his pace and grabs your waist passionately in order to keep you in place. Over and over, again and again your sticky skin collides with his until he threatens to burst.

“You’re mine”, he presses out through gritted teeth while pounding into you.

“I’m all yours, Sanemi!”, you cry out, nails now leaving marks on his skin.

“I need…ah! I need you! Please!”

He knows exactly what you’re asking for. One last time, he picks up the pace while holding onto you for dear life.

Until finally, you scream his name. Finally, he’s able to let it all go.

“(y/n)!”

He collapses on top of you, his weight leaving you dizzy and unable to move. None of you dares to make a move, the only thing that’s filling the room being your shaky and sharp breaths.

“I love you, (y/n)”, Sanemi finally mutters, his hand caressing your cheek oh so gently.

“I love you too-“

“Mission report, mission report! Kagaya-sama requires a mission re- AH!”

“Get out of here right now!”, Sanemi barks at the crow that casually entered the room.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?”

“Get out!”, Sanemi screams on top of his lungs before yanking up and hunting the crow butt-naked through the room

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

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cherry-hulu · 5 months ago

Text

— NDA

Synopsis: Face planted in the sheets. Mingyu thrusting roughly behind you, constantly hitting that oh so sweet spot. Post concert depression who?

Warnings: Idol!KMG x Fem carat!reader, post concert sex, unprotected sex, underskirt, blow job, face, fucking, pet names (princess, baby, good girl), belly bulge, throat bulge, size kink, lmk if I missed anything

When a staff came up to you, pulling you to the corner and asking you about what you'd think about a special backstage meeting. You definitely did not thought that it would come to this. You didn't even expect to be invited. All you knew was that you and Mingyu have been meeting eyes all throughout the concert and that your tummy could definitely be mistaken for a butterfly conservatory with how wild it was in there.

And now it feels like your guts were being rearranged to accommodate Mingyu's size. Creating an indentation of his cock, carving his own— not so little— space within you.

It all happened so quickly. One moment he was pulling you aside and the second he was pushing you up against the door, body to body, skin to skin, having an aggressive make out session. Nothing about it was gentle. Eager masked by aggression motivated each movement done to each other.

You gasped as he kisses down your neck, down to your cleavage while sliding down the sleeves of your pretty blouse alongside your bra. With one hand, and lips attached to your skin, your mounds were exposed to him in no second. He'd done this a hundred times— more than enough to know that he doesn't have that much time.

So he rushes. Picking you up, your legs wrap around his waist in instict causing your clothed cunt to slightly rub on his abs causing both of you to moan.

Mingyu lays you down on the couch as he takes his shirt off before diving back into your chest. You moan as your hands touch all over him. Feeling his skin, his muscles, his biceps as he grinds on you. With your skirt lifted slightly up, his hard on slots perfectly between your clothed cunt causing both of you to moan during the kiss.

You palm him, holding his heavy cock in your hands before kneeling in front of him and pushing his pants and boxers down to reveal him. Standing proudly and sticking against his stomach, tip red and angry with sploches of pre-cum. With no hesitation you take him in, eyes keeping contact with his— just like how you were during the concert.

"Fuck. There you are again with those damn eyes." Mingyu mutters as he grabs the back of your head patting it down. "Such a good girl, getting on her knees for me without command. You really want me that bad huh? Enjoy me princess, not alot of people get this chance." As he watches you take his cock.

You do it slowly as to enjoy the moment and also because it would be impossible to take him in one go. And Mingyu was so obsessed with you. His hands wrapped around your throat feeling the bulge caused by him, small tears running down your eyes as you look up at him with doe eyes. "Fucking perfect."

Slowly you start to move, bobbing your head forwards and backwards. You had a slow pace, adjusting to his size careful on not going too hard incase you might choke. It didn't took long before Mingyu grabbed your head and started facefucking you instead.

Throwing his head back, your cunt throbbed even more, a visible and prominent wet patch on your panties as you saw him. The hand on your back, the weight of his cock in your mouth, his thrusting motions. It was all so hot.

He thinks the same as he looked back down at you, looking up at him with eyes big, mouth wide open stretched around his cock. "Shit baby you're so fucking hot." He mutters before pulling out. Cock immediately standing back up against his stomach. He was rock hard.

"Wan' more please.." You whimper straightening your posture as you look up at him more, pouting. "You'll get more princess don't worry, but right now I want nothing more than your pussy." He says as he lays you back down, bending your knees and lifting your skirt up slightly giving him a perfect view of your clothed cunt.

Due to the hot weather in South Korea, you opted to just wear panties out and decided to just be more careful with your movements. "What a slut, walking around with no safety shorts on? Jumping at my concert, while giving me those eyes? You were just waiting to be fucked weren't you?" Mingyu says as he pulls back the middle of your panties before letting it snap back and rubbing on the wet spot right after.

He lifts the panties off you immediately revealing your throbbing pretty pussy. "Pretty and pink, perfect princess." While rubbing your bud.

Coming near you, you spread your legs immediately accommodating his size. Mingyu slaps his fat cock on your pussy a couple of times, teasing the tip on your entrance before slowly pushing in.

It felt so surreal, he was stretching you so much. Immediately, your upper half lifted off the couch, mouth hanged wide open as he eases into you. His hand wraps around the whole circumference of your waist making him harder "So small baby."

Propping your legs on his shoulder after easing himself in. He started off slowly before gradually speeding up as be remembers the limited time. It didn't took long before the room was echoing with the sound of skin slapping and your load moans and whimpers that just gets Mingyu to fuck you harder each time.

"S.. S.. So.. B.. Big.. M.. M.. Min.. G.. Gyu," While he fucks you relentlessly. He rubs the bulge on your stomach as he chuckes lightly "Weren't you just talking relentlessly earlier? Where'd that go?"

He flips you around—penis still lodged in you—now face planted into the couch as he fucks and reached you deeper and harder. The furniture now moving inch by inch away from it's original position. His hand rests on your back, while his other hand lifts your skirt up and spanks your ass loving the way it turns red.

"I.. I'm cl.. close," You whimper. "Me too baby, me too." Mingyu responds as he fucks you harder than possible. A few more thrusts and you were creaming all over him creating a white ream in between your connection. One more hard thrust before he pulls out and cums all over your back, jacking off lightly to ride his high.

Resting his fat cock on atop of your but, he kisses your back lightly as he whispers you praises and affirmations. "Did so good baby, 'm so proud of you."

Mingyu turns your around and sees your fucked up state. Kissing your forehead, he spreads your legs around him once again startling you as your eyes open wide. He starts to go down your body as he looks up at you witha smug look on his face. "What? I'm just getting you your moneys worth."

#mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x you #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #mingyu smut #svt #svt x reader #svt x you #svt smut #backstage

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emoisthenewemu · 1 month ago

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Homie Hopper!

College MHA boys x f! reader!

In which after getting your little heart broken, you get passed around your local University’s hottest friend group! Everyone needs those slutty College years!

Smut Series! Pt 2 here

A/N: I would just like to make it clear that I do not condone some of the behaviors in this series! It is a bit problematic, but it is all just for funsies! Solely for entertainment purposes so just keep that in mind. Also i love sero can you tell. Anyways, enjoy!

Cw: SMUTTT!, lots of different kinks n stuff, sub! Denki, name calling, p in v, reader has female anatomy, reader essentially gets passed around

Katsuki Bakugo as The Shit Talker!

- Katsuki Bakugo is the one who started it all, your hot neighbor who threw parties your ex boyfriend never let you go to. Bakugo always gave you shit for it, saying you were ‘too young and pretty to be tied down’.

- As fucked up as it sounds, he gets excited one day when he spots you getting home super late one night in an oversized hoodie with mascara stained cheeks. And he considers just marching right across the hall when he notices you took all the posts and highlights of that fucker down on your insta.

- He’s even more excited when you finally show up to one of his parties. That is until you get wasted way too fast because you haven’t been out in years and end up crying over your shitty ex boyfriend.

- Katsuki Bakugo, who lets you make it up to him the next day by using you like a toy.

- Bakugo, who says the nastiest things when he’s deep inside of you.

“All my friends wanna fuck you, you know? But I get to go first”

“Can’t believe you were hiding this slutty pussy from us this long”

“Always knew you were a fucking slut”

“Your loser boyfriend ever fuck you like this?”

“Stop mph! fucking running from it!”

-He has your face pressed into the mattress, a hand on your head and one of his feet planted flat on the cushion. You’re drooling due to the way he drills into you, fucking you like he hates you.

- You guess you should have expected him to be so rough. Tough exterior and all but this is so much more than you could have ever imagined. He does not even give you a second to breathe, constantly snatching every bit of air from your lungs with each powerful thrust.

-His headboard bangs against the wall obnoxiously, he warns you not to hide your pretty little noises either or else says he’ll fuck them out of you. He even tells you to shut the fuck up when you whine about your neighbors-or Kiri.

-Katsuki Bakugo who has you in a headlock when you finally cum, back pressed tightly against his front as he thrusts up into you. His free hand pinching and rubbing your clit furiously. “Cum f'me pretty, then I can fill you up till it's coming out yer fucking mouth". His words are enough to make you gush around him, tight pussy squeezing him like a vice. But he’s not done talking shit yet, of course not.

"Better not waste a fuckin' drop. Maybe Kiri'll wanna fuck it back into you. He’s into nasty shit like that"

- Your cry out at his words, his finger remains at your clit but now rubbing at a much slower pace which ensures you let out small whines every few seconds. Still fucking into you so brutally your body begins to tremble. "You like that? Dirty fucking girl, want us to share this sloppy pussy?"

"Mm yes! P-please! Won't tell anyone" You nod frantically, a part of you so fucked out you are unaware of what you're saying. This is so unlike you, truly.

Bakugo's dick made you go dumb, fucking stupid actually. It sets the catalyst for a series of the most unhinged decisions of your life.

-It feels like little explosions eat up his entire body as his seed finally shoots inside you, there's so much it has already begun to leak out. "No, no, no! Keep it in there!" He slaps your ass and lets you finally fall back down into the mattress.

You're a crying mess, you don't even notice it. But he does, of course. Grabbing your (face) cheeks and squeezing with one hand. "Aw pretty girl, you cryin already?"

- Katsuki Bakugo, who is being a complete hypocrite, he's fucked out already too, fucking himself into overstimulation currently as he fucks his own cum back into you. "Such a crybaby. M'not even done with you yet"

Ejirou Kirishima as The Big Boy!

-Ejirou Kirishima-Katsuki’s roomate who invites you over to his parents house (who are out of town) so the two of you can ‘workout’ in their home gym. One month after what took place with his best friend.

-You can’t help but remember the blonde’s words, something about the red-haired man fucking his cum back into you. He wouldn’t, would he?

-He’s such a sweetheart! He opens and closes the car door for you, makes you a protein shake with his own recipe! Even brings you a little snack and tells you how pretty you look in your gym set! The man has even offered to take you and your roomate’s trash out before because ‘ladies shouldn’t be walking around by themselves at night’. He’s just such a gentleman, you can’t imagine him doing anything nasty in his life.

-Ejirou Kirishima who works out for all of about twelve minutes before lifting you up against the wall and gives you the most passionate and sensual make out session you have ever experienced.

-He moans against your lips sweetly, going down to kiss every inch of skin within reach.

-Ejirou Kirishima-who has the biggest, fattest cock you have ever seen in your life. It almost scares you because how the hell is that going to fit?!

He notices your worries, softly smooching the corner of your lips. “You can do it pretty girl, I know you can” His hand gropes your ass, a harsh contradiction to his sweet voice. “Bakugo says you’re a good girl, huh?”

-He manages to bully his fat member inside of you. The stretch is delicious yet painful. You squeal as he sinks deeper, nails digging into his bare shoulder.

“Shit baby you’re so tight for me” The man exhales loudly, hot breath hitting your bare skin. “Wanna hear you scream”

-Ejirou Kirishima, whose wish is answered when he finally picks up the pace. The ease in which he fucks you, holding your weight up entirely only adds to the experience.

-He’s just so strong and big. It makes your ankles cross and eyes roll to the back of your head. He’s so proud of it too-as he should be. He works very hard to maintain such a physique, he does it not only for himself but for pretty girls like you.

It’s obviously working, whimpers and whines escape your lips. Mouth stuck in a constant ’o’ shape and eyebrows furrowed. “S-so big! Fuck!” You cry, giving your very best attempt to bounce back on him. But it’s hard, almost every signal in your body is telling you to push away. It’s too much, the pain of his fat tip smushing against your walls. Yet another part deep within had you convinced that you can take it.

-You open your eyes to catch a glimpse of the sinful sight through the wall length mirror. His frame is so large you are hardly able to make yourself out, whole body covering yours. His back muscles on full display, you watch them move under his skin. The back of his bulging biceps accompanied by little grunts. “So strong Kiri ohmygodd! So good so good, so big!”

-“You like when i use you like a little dolly?” You nod, unable to speak even if you tried. “Love this big dick, huh?”

“Yes! Yes!” You are screaming at this point, in a way you have never done before. You had no idea this amount of pleasure was even possible. You should have been single a looong time ago. “Love it s’much!”

-“Cum on this dick gorgeous! Make a mess please!” He’s so cute, he still says please.

And you’re such a good girl that you just have to do what you’re told-juices gushing all over his abs and dripping down his thighs.

-Ejirou Kirishima who kisses the ache in your thighs before fucking you again in the hot tub. And then in his childhood bedroom.

Hanta Sero as The One Who Talks You Through It!

- Hanta Sero, who somehow becomes your smoking buddy after being paired up with you on a project. He was so funny and cute and you just had to get his snapchat!

-Hanta Sero, who knows his friends had already fucked you but doesn’t really care who came first or second. He just wants you…..bad.

- After a couple smoke sessions he decides to just go for it, glossy red eyes taking in your entire figure as he moves closer. Grabbing your chin and kissing you skillfully, tongue rolling against yours.

- Hanta Sero, who has you in his lap, chin resting on your shoulder with your legs spread wiiide. His legs trap you on either side so you are unable to move and squirm away the way your body tells you to. You have no choice but to take his long digits that are furiously fingering your cunt.

You’re a moaning mess, head thrown back against his chest as he coos in your ear, talking your head (more like pussy!) off. “Ahhh does it feel good mamas?”

Brushing a piece of hair out of your face he continues, strong thighs still keeping yours in place. “Such a pretty little princess pussy”

- Most moments you have no idea what he is even saying, every single one of his words goes straight down there. “So messy” His hand places a firm, wet smack! against your soaked core. “Hear how wet you are for me?” He continues to finger you, picking up the pace with an almost obnoxious squelching noise that accompanies his every move.

The vibrations of his movements shoot up your body, his fingers feel robotic with the way they do not falter. And then he starts curling them to brush against that sweet spot.

It’s not much longer after when you squirt all over his fingers and sheets with a loud cry. And he is sure to maintain eye contact when he brings his hand up to lick clean of all your juices, muttering something about how sweet you taste.

- Hanta Sero, who has you on your back a minute later-one hand on the headboard and the other keeps him steady as he pounds into you, lazy red eyes stuck on all of the faces you make. The way your titties bounce with his thrusts. You’re driving him crazy.

-“Fuck, Fuck princesa. You feel how deep I am?” You only nod, his long curved dick takes the words out of your mouth. “M’in your fuckin’ guts”

-He brings his body down to get closer to you, arms hooking beneath your shoulders to bring you closer to him. One of his hands pushes your head down to force you to watch his sloppy thrusts with the way he slams! you down on his cock.

-Hanta Sero who gets excited when you finally have the energy and brain capacity to talk, telling him all about how good he is. “So deep Hanta….can feel you in my tummy” You pout and it makes his dick twitch. You’re too fucking cute.

He almost regrets putting a condom on, he wishes he could feel the real thing. Make no mistake though, he is enjoying himself to the point where his toes begin to curl as he blabbers nonsense. “Taking it so good for me baby, such a good princess”

-His dick is firmly pressed against the spot you need it the most. You are unable to stop the squeals and whimpers coming from deep within, sloppily rocking your hips against him. He takes notice of this, locking his hips to continue to rub against the spongy walls that make you cry out like this. “Let it out mamas, wanna see you cum again”

- You don’t need much encouragement to coax the orgasm out of you-one that is mind-melting and makes your insides feel fuzzy. “Mm Hanta! Cumming f’you baby”

- Hanta Sero, who moans so loudly when he feels your walls spasming around him. He has to grab onto your hair for comfort-you’re practically choking his dick.

- Hanta Sero, who leans in close to whisper in your ear as you flutter around him. “Just like that baby” He kisses your cheek, a sweet gesture which is quite opposite to the mean snap of his hips. “Come on, come on give me more”.

- He’s practically snatching your soul out of your body, your mouth agape and wide as your body trembles, listening to his words. “Just a lil bit more mama, I know you can do it”

“C-cant!” You squeal but your legs betray you, locking themselves around his hips, he couldn’t move much even if he wanted to. So he uses the opportunity to do slow, exaggerated thrusts into you.

Tears prick your eyes as you do nothing but take it and whine. Hanta keeps on talking though. “Shhh it’s okay mamas….I know you can take it” And then he squishes your cute little face in his hand. “Right? You gonna take more f’me?”

-“Y-yeah”

- Hanta Sero, who is such a blabbermouth that you should not be surprised to find out how talkative he is during sex. Who continues to let you know you are welcome over any time and sends you the filthiest text messages. Ones you respond to with cute little emojis letting him know you’ll be on the way.

Denki Kaminari as ‘The Munch!’

- Denki Kaminari, who feels left out as he is the only one in the friend group who hasn’t fucked you! The other guys have nothing but good things to say about you and even still consider you to be a friend! So why can’t he have a taste? He’s the one who pointed you out to them in the first place!

- Denki Kaminari, who finds himself sitting next to you one night at a end of year party. The two of you being DD’s for the night, which means you are the only sober ones. And you talk for hours, seeing as you’ve known each other since freshman year and have remained relatively close since then. Which means he’s not afraid to ask.

“So what’s wrong with me?”

“Huh?”

“You fucked all my friends and not me? I’m hurt!” He sounds genuine, a hand placing itself atop his chest in offense. “Is it something I did?”

“Shut up!” You grumble, taking a hit off of his puff. “And no! Of course not!” You chuckle, blowing out the smoke directly in his face. “Just didn’t know you even thought of me that way”

- Denki Kaminari, who scoffs at your words. And here he was thinking it was obvious. Even back when you had a boyfriend he would always tell you that he could treat you better but you always thought he was joking! He was a jokester, that was like his thing!

- Denki Kaminari, who is deadly serious when he leans in closer to ensure you hear his every word perfectly.

“M’not hotheaded and ripped like Bakugo. Or big and strong like Kirishima. Or as tall as Sero or nearly as charming”

“You think Sero’s charming?” You laugh.

“Dude’s got game” Denki loves the way you giggle. “But I got something none of those fuckers do”

“Mm?” You raise an eyebrow curiously, a sweet smile on your face as you lean in closer. Lips mere inches away from him. “What’s that?”

“Promise my tongue is better than any of those assholes. Can make you see stars using just my mouth” He speaks so smugly, so confident.

It’s the most attractive he’s ever looked.

- You take him up on his offer, letting him lead you to an empty room upstairs where he doesn’t even wait for the door to click before smashing his lips against yours. Hungry hands grab at your waist and ass, then your tits and hair.

-Denki Kaminari, who keeps true to his word and has you seeing stars in a matter of minutes. Whose hands are holding yours as his face is nuzzled into your heat, breathing in your scent as his tongue works its magic Whose dick twitches every time you squeeze his hands and every time you try to let go he grabs it back, interlocking your fingers with his.

- His tongue swirls circles around your clit, causing your hips to bump up against his face-which makes him moan into your folds. Pulling apart for a second to admire the glossy mess before diving right back in

-Denki Kaminari, who is almost pathetic with the way he slurps you up like he is starving for your pussy. Constantly moaning into it as if he is getting any kind of relief out of it. Oh but he is, he could stay between your thighs for hours.

Whose skilled tongue somehow knows all the right places, eventually he has you rocking against his face as the only thing audible besides your loud desperate moans are the even more desperate slurps coming from him.

- He fucks you with his tongue until he is so deep that it makes him gag. But he does not stop, not even when his dick begins to ache from how hard it is. He fucks you with bis tongue until it hurts and you are a shaking mess, having finished three times already. No fingers involved.

-Denki Kaminari, who somehow convinces you to ride him into oblivion afterwards, shaky legs and all.

- His whines are so pathetic and hot that it unlocks something deep within you. A feeling you had never experienced before. Causing you to go rough on him, pulling his hair and whining when he begs you to do it harder! You aren’t sure who’s moaning more between the two of you.

- Denki Kaminari, who has shivers go up his spine whenever you dig your nails into his biceps, hips bouncing up and down as if your life depends on it. “Please scratch me up baby! Feels s’good”

- You even choke him a bit which is a thing you had never done before but just felt so right in the moment. The way he moans confirms that he enjoys it just as much as you did.

- When he cums, he cums hard, thick ropes spurting out into the condom as he moans freely. His hips rock up into you for more stimulation as he rides out his high.

“Oh shittt didn’t know you were such a freak Y/N!” Denji jokes, poking you in the side and you giggle.

He moans at the way you clench around him when you laugh. It makes him want to make you laugh more.

- Denki Kaminari, who showed you just how much you enjoy whiny subby men!

- And even to this day the whole friend group does a double take when you walk by, always offering to do stuff for you or hold open doors. (Except Bakugo of course). But they all make it more than obvious you are welcome into their beds anytime.

#mha smut #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #hanta sero x reader #sero x reader #hanta sero smut #kirishima ejiro x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #denki smut #denki x reader #denki kaminari smut #mha #my hero academia

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motorsportbarbie13 · 2 months ago

Text

A Package Deal - Part 4

In which the real world threatens to ruin your happiness.

Warnings: angsttttttttt :) fluff at the end tho!! Pairing: Lando x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 3.6k words

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted:

yourusername life lately ❤️ BFFSarah omg, someone who loves pizza just as much as Stelly Belly??? >>>yourusername they polished off a large pizza between the two of them. It was a sight to see. >>>land-ho WE WERE HUNGRY. >>>yourusername you bet my six year old she couldn't eat 4 pieces of pizza, sir. >>>land-ho AND SHE PUT DOWN FIVE! Proudest moment of my LIFE. >>>yourusername 🙄

land-ho (private) posted

land-ho party of three? smoooooth_operator it was good to see you two last night! >>>yourusername dinner was delicious, C!! tell R thank you for all the shopping reccos in Barcelona 🤭 >>>landonorris oh god, my wallet already hurts >>>yourusername well now i'm never going to beat the sugar baby allegations. >>>honeybadger y'all are a walking PR nightmare waiting to happen. kelly_pickme i must meet your two favorite girls soon! bring them to Monaco soon! >>>yourusername 😘 did L give M the lion plushie and princess dress for baby and P? can't wait to meet you all soon!! >>>kelly_pickme yes! P hasn't taken it off and the lion is a hit as well. >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

Miami May, 2025

"Okay, anything else you guys want to talk about before we start filming?" Victor, the team's head of communications, asks on Thursday afternoon.

Victor sits in one of the several conference rooms located in McLaren's hospitality suite surrounded by the rest of the communications team as well as Lando and Oscar. The weekend debrief is wrapping up as he asks one last question.

"Actually, kind of." Lando clears his throat, rubbing his palms on his jeans.

The entire team turns to him then and he feels his face go a bit red. He hadn't really planned on making a big deal of this in front of the team but after his meeting with Zak earlier, he thought he should at least let the comms team in on what he was going to do tonight.

"What's up?" Victor prompts, tucking his iPad under his arm.

"Well, it's more of a 'heads up' kind of thing but Zak thought I should let you guys know that I'm planning on going public with my girlfriend tonight."

Out of the corner of his eye, Lando sees Oscar smirk. He can almost hear the 'well it's about time' teasing he's about to get when they wrap up this meeting.

Victor blinks, casting a sideways glance at Melanie, Lando's main press officer for the weekend. He could tell Victor was reluctant to agree but in all honesty, this wasn't his call and Lando was ready to make that known. "What were you planning on doing?"

Melanie pulls out a notepad to take notes, just in case she's asked about the relationship this weekend.

You were also in Miami this weekend for your second race of the season and the subject had come up last night as you were cuddled up in bed after Lando had posted about you and Stella on his private account for the first time. You had been hesitant at first, not wanting to bring the team or Lando any drama during the race weekend but he had been insistent. While you hadn't been together officially for very long, you spent nearly every spare moment together and Stella had become a huge part of Lando's life too. He was tired of being linked to endless Instagram models and having to hide you away from the public.

Lando shrugs. "Nothing big or anything, just a post of my feed with her, some kind of witty caption."

"She's the one who works in the accounting department?" Melanie asks.

Lando can't help but glare at the woman. She's in her mid-30s with mousey brown hair and wire rimmed glasses. Melanie was kind enough but sometimes Lando wondered if she had any of the media training that was forced on him and Oscar with the kinds of questions she asked him.

"No, she's on the product development team, and she's right over there." Lando tips his chin towards the large glass windows that looks out onto the rest of the hospitality suite where you sit at one of the tables typing away at your laptop.

"Isn't she a single mom?"

Again, Lando glares at Melanie as the rest of the team shifts uncomfortably in their seat. Sure, it was their job to handle any press inquiries that came into the office and sometimes there were personal questions that got asked, but that one was toeing the line of appropriate.

"I don't see why that makes any sort of difference." Oscar surprises everyone by speaking up, his tone a bit colder than usual. "I've worked with her a lot lately, she's a lovely person and wicked smart. Lando's a lucky guy."

"Thanks, mate." Lando murmurs before turning back to Victor. "HR is aware of our relationship and, not that it should matter," Lando looks pointedly at Melanie once again, and is pleased to see her look a bit sheepish as if she's just realized how inappropriate her questions had been. "But Zak is also aware that we're together and has given us his blessing too."

That had been an awkward conversation but Lando admired the McLaren CEO too much to leave him in the dark about something that involved his two employees. He'd scoured the McLaren employee handbook (thankfully there was nothing in it against fraternization of employees, so HR hadn't been a problem either) before approaching Zak first to tell him about the relationship. If there was anyone that Zak Brown loved more than Lando, it was you so of course he had been ecstatic at the news and had immediately given the relationship his full support.

Without waiting for further comment from anyone, Lando gets up and strides out the door, furious at how the ending of the meeting had gone. There were far more problematic WAGs in the paddock and you were a McLaren employee after all, shouldn't you expect the same support from the team as he did? He didn't really understand why it was such a big deal that you were a single mom or technically a coworker.

From your spot in the middle of the hospitality suite you can see when Lando walks out of the conference room, hyper aware of the way his shoulders are hitched up towards his ears, something that only happens when he's upset or stressed.

"Momma!" Your attention is drawn back to your phone where Stella sits on FaceTime before her bath for the evening. You'd been distracted by Lando's sudden shift in mood and had stopped listening to her mid-story.

"Sorry, baby. I'm listening. You and Cora had a good playdate today, yeah?"

Stella prattles on, seemingly satisfied with the half-attention you're now paying her again. But your focus is pulled elsewhere for a moment as you watch a girl you know is on the comms team follow Lando out of the conference room and into his drivers room. You couldn't remember her name but knew that she was working with Lando this weekend as his press officer so it didn't impress you as unusual that she was following him. Maybe something had been said in the meeting and she was going to try to calm him down.

"Momma, can I talk to Lando now?" Stella sighs and you grin. You were beginning to think that your daughter loved Lando a bit more than you the way she constantly asked about him and wanted to see him.

"I think he just walked into a meeting, S but how about we do this. Why don't you go take a bath and by the time you're done, Lando should be finished with his meeting and you can talk to him then."

Stella nods, seemingly happy about the arrangement. You say a quick goodbye before packing up your laptop to go check in on Lando. You were essentially done for the day so you had planned on hanging out with a few of the engineers during their meetings this afternoon before going to dinner with Lando later that night. And then you fully planned on spending the rest of the evening underneath your boyfriend.

You can see the door to Lando's driver's room ajar and you can hear raised voices floating out. Hesitating, you pause with your hand on the door handle. The conversation sounded heated and you didn't want to interrupt. You swear you didn't want to eavesdrop but Lando's shouting didn't leave you much choice.

"What the fuck do you mean the team doesn't want a 'Kelly Piquet 2.0 situation?"

Oh. Oh dear.

You had known Lando was going to tell the team of his plan to hard launch you on his socials tonight and by the sounds of it, it hadn't gone well.

"Lando," The woman, you think her name is Melanie or something, tries to sooth him. "All we're saying is maybe you should think of how this could impact her daughter. When Max and Kelly went public, it was a shit show."

"Yeah, because her father is a racist piece of shit." He spits.

"And she was accused of being a predator!" Melanie fires back. "All I'm saying is that maybe right now isn't the best time to launch a potentially controversial girlfriend."

Your blood goes cold. Controversial? There was nothing in your past that you were ashamed about. No racist relatives. No sex tape scandals or even potentially embarassing photos somewhere out on the internet. You had, all things considered, a pretty wholesome reputation. Everyone at McLaren loved you, as far as you were aware. With the apparent exception of Melanie.

"Controversial? Please, elaborate." Lando's voice goes deadly calm, as if he knows exactly what she's going to say but wants her to say it out loud.

"Lando." Melanie sighs and you take a step back, unsure if you want to hear what she has to say. "She's a young, single mom who got knocked up at nineteen years old." Melanie practically laughs, as if Lando is a complete idiot for not understanding. "There's no way she won't be seen as a gold digger or worse! She's going to be eaten alive on socials. I'm only looking out for her daughter's reputation. Don't be so naive, Norris."

Your fists clench up so tightly, the bite of your nails in your palms pulls you out of a near rage. It takes every ounce of control not to go straight into Lando's room and give that bitch a piece of your mind.

On the other side of the door, Lando swears he sees red and has to take a step away. "This is about your workload, isn't it? You don't want to deal with the awkward questions and the drama? Listen very closely to me, Melanie okay? Because I'm not going to repeat myself." The venom in Lando's voice startles you. "The three of us are a package deal now, do you understand? I am madly in love with that woman out there and her little girl? Her little girl is the center of my world too. I don't give a flying fuck if me being with her means more work for you, that's too fucking bad. If you can't handle it, I'm positive Zak will be happy to replace you. She's here to stay, you are replaceable. Understood?"

Hearing Lando say he loves you and Stella has your world tilting underneath your feet. He'd never said that to you before even though you'd been confident for a while now that he did feel that way. And that you felt the same way.

Melanie's reply is so soft, you don't hear it but moments later, the door flies open so fast you're forced to jump back bit. Melanie's flushed face looks horrified when she sees you standing in the hall. She can't hold eye contact with you for longer than a flicker of a moment before she's dashing down the hall.

Lando stands in the doorway looking horrified that you're standing there. "How much of that did you hear?"

Tears burn at the back of your eyes, your anger at Melanie now replaced with sheer embarrassment. Even if she had been the one to voice it, you were certain Melanie wasn't the only one who was thinking the same thing.

"Everything." You whisper as you look away, brushing at a tear that rolls hotly down your face.

"Goddamnit." Lando swears, shoving a hand through his curls. He hadn't even noticed his door was open after Melanie had followed after him. "Baby..." He reaches for you and you let him pull you to him, his steady warmth a comforting feeling as the panic rises in your chest.

"She's right, you know." You whisper into his chest so softly Lando nearly misses it.

Lando pulls back and the look of desperation on his face nearly breaks your heart. "What are you talking about?"

"The hate we're going to get. I'm going to get. She had a point, you have to admit. I'm a young, single mom dating a millionaire? People are going to think all I'm interested in is your money, just like they did with Kelly."

"Who cares what people think? Who cares what they say about us? The people in our lives that really matter know that's not why you're with me. Isn't that all that matters?"

"Until they start in on Stella. Have you seen some of the things they say about P?"

You were pretty confident you could handle any hate that you got but you knew that the moment you saw any hate towards your little girl, you'd be devastated. It had been something you'd been thinking about since Lando had brought up going public last night but you had been able to brush it aside. It hadn't seemed possible, the worry seeming far away and a little over dramatic but now? Now Melanie's words had anxiety twisting in your stomach.

"That's not going to happen." Lando pulls you deeper into his chest and nuzzles into your neck. He can practically feel you pulling away from him and terror shoots through him.

"You don't know that. Even if it doesn't, do you really want to spend the rest of this relationship constantly defending me? Defending us? That's no way to live, Lando. Melanie was right. I'm controversial and maybe we need to rethink this."

Lando's entire world stops spinning, his breath catching in his throat. "Wh...What? No, baby, no. Please don't do this. Don't pull away. Melanie is being hysterical. Nothing like that is going to happen."

If he had to get on his knees and beg you not to leave him, Lando would do it in a heartbeat.

"I'm not doing anything, I just need a minute to think okay?" You step out of his grasp, instantly missing his touch. You can't even look him in the eye, knowing that if you do you'll crumble. But you can't think of Lando or even yourself right now. "I have to consider what's best for Stella, okay?"

"Don't do this." Lando begs.

"I think I'm going to stay in my own room tonight." You whisper, voice straining with emotion as you barely contain the heartache in your tone.

"Is this the end?" Lando chokes out as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets. He's sure you'd step away if he tried to touch you right now and he knew he wouldn't be able to handle that kind of rejection from you. It felt like his entire world was crumbling around him and the only thing that could right this was you.

Tears stream down your face as you struggle for an answer. "No." You tell him after a moment and the relief that floods Lando's face nearly breaks your heart. "I just need some space to think is all, I promise."

"Can we still have dinner tonight?"

"I think it'd be best if I just spend the evening alone." It hurts, saying those words because you rarely get this much alone time with Lando but you need space so badly your skin begins to itch. You're desperate to get some distance from the paddock and the team and even Lando himself, to right yourself back to the proper head space. You had to consider Stella above your own heart.

If it was possible to die from a broken heart, Lando knew he was about to find out. He lets you go though, watching miserably from the spot he's rooted to on his floor as you back away slowly, almost like you're retreating from a dangerous animal or something.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

All he can do is nod as he watches you walk out the door for what he hopes isn't the last time.

You're just finishing the last bits of your makeup when there's a knock on your door Friday morning. You were a bit surprised because you knew full well that Lando had a key but the fact that he was nervous to use it after what had happened yesterday tugs at something in your chest.

You had been in the shower when he texted you that morning and the string of texts nearly broke your heart. You hadn't wanted to put him through that kind of pain but you had needed to take a moment to think through what had happened with Melanie and the comms team yesterday.

Slipping the robe Lando had gotten you in Japan a few weeks ago, you pad towards the door to open it. You're stopped completely in your tracks when you swing it open and get a glimpse of Lando in the hallway. He looks absolutely ravaged, like he didn't sleep a single second the night before, eyes red rimmed and puffy.

"Lan..." You whisper, tears instantly flooding your eyes. You reach for him, utterly perplexed suddenly as to why you had felt you needed distance from him.

When he folds you into his arms, the damn finally breaks and you sob into him, the entire previous day's emotions coming to a head. The way you finally feel complete when he's got you in his arms is unlike anything you've ever felt and for a brief moment yesterday, you had forgotten that fact.

When he kisses you, cradling your head in his hands, everything else quiets. The doubts, the fear, the anxiety. It all fades into the background with his lips on yours and you sigh into his mouth. For the first time on 24 hours you feel relieved, like you can actually tackle this issue instead of feeling like you're going to drown in your own thoughts.

Lando tugs you over to the bed, pulling you into his lap as he sits against the headboard. You tuck into his body as close as you can, head folded into that space between his neck and shoulder, drinking in the smell of him: fresh from the shower and slightly spicy from his cologne.

For several minutes, you both just sit there. Lando struggles to contain the relief that is flooding his body. He'd been absolutely miserable last night, eventually working himself into a panic attack at the thought of losing you and Stella. There was such a gaping hole in his soul when he thought about the prospect of you walking away, it scared him to death. He had never planned on falling for you, had resisted it for a bit, trying to convince himself that it was too quick to be feeling the way he did. Last night though? Last night had showed him he was further gone than he had ever expected.

"Did you mean what you said to Melanie yesterday?" You mumble into his neck after a few moments.

"Every word." Lando says without a moment of hesitation. "But is there a specific part you want me to confirm?"

You chuckle, pulling away so you can look him in the face. "The part where you said we're a package deal? That you love love us both?"

Lando brings his hands up to face your frame and you can't help but lean into him. "Of course I meant it. I'd do anything for either of you. I thought we'd established that, baby."

You drop your gaze from his then, somewhat knocked off center by the intensity of his gaze. "I'm sorry I got spooked. I'm just so used to doing this all on my own, no one ever wants to stay."

"Do you remember what I told you the first night we spent together in Bahrain?"

You blink, a small smile playing on your lips for the first time that morning. "You said a lot that night."

Lando rolls his eyes and kisses your temple. "It was after you had fallen asleep and I got up to get a drink of water. When I came back to bed, you curled right into me and said you thought I'd left you. You asked me to never leave you and and I told you I'd never leave you. I didn't mean it for just that night though."

Your heart thunders in your chest. You didn't remember that at all but the fact that he had said those words to you all those months ago. He'd been as far gone for you back then as you had.

"I love you more than words can say." He whispers and all you can do is nod back, emotion choking out your ability to speak for a few moments.

Lando reaches under your chin after a beat, lifting your face so he can see you. "Nobody said this was going to be easy but if we do this together, it'll be okay. You've got to trust me on this, baby. The team is fully supportive, I swear to you. Zak, Andrea, Oscar. Everyone that matters is on our side. I know you're scared and you want to protect Stella but you can't give up on our happiness because of some stupid people on the internet that don't matter."

Pain shoots through you, bright and quick as a lightning bolt as realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Something becomes crystal clear in that moment and you find yourself nodding.

"You're right. I know you are. I want Stella to see me choose myself instead of sacrificing my happiness for some stupid what ifs." It isn't until Lando says what he does that you're able to finally put into words what you've slowly been coming to realize over the last few hours. You'd been scared to admit it, scared that choosing yourself in this meant you were putting Stella second but when Lando tells you that you can't give up your own happiness to protect her, everything clicks into place.

"I want her to know that she can do hard things and choose her own path and if i listen to Melanie all I show her is that the bullies win."

"That's my girl." Lando praises, pulling you into another soul shattering kiss. "I love you." He whispers against your lips.

"Lan..." You pull away suddenly, eyes going wide. "The reason I was outside your driver's room yesterday was because Stella demanded to talk to you before bed and then..." You drop the sentence, the memory of yesterday slicing through you once again. "Do we have time to call her now? She was so mad at me last night when I said you were too busy to talk."

"Don't you ever tell my Stelly Belly I'm too busy to talk to her again." He teases before grabbing his phone. "Is she with Sarah today? They had a half day, didn't they. She was all about going to the cinema with Sarah today last time I talked to her."

The smile that settles on your face is nothing short of brilliant. For the first time in nearly 24 hours, you finally feel settled, like everything had righted itself after being so very briefly run off course. "Lets see if she can talk now before the get to the show."

landonorris posted

789,039 likes liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, BFFSarah, and others landonorris did someone say 'hard launch'? user029 oh she's PRETTY PRETTY yourusername <3 >>>user029 ugh, profile's private but SHE HAS A CHILD??? >>>user2992 if this means we're going to get dad lando content the same yaer we get dad max content, the internet may not survive BFFSarah can i like this more than once!?! <3 user0299 OMG WAIT I saw her in the background of tv shots this weekend except she was in a McLaren team kit. LANDO NOT DATING AN INFLUENCER??? >>>user3422 didn't know he had it in him >>>user000 god, i am such a sucker for a workplace romance trope

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#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #ln4 #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic #ln4 x reader #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x singlemom!reader

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wwooyology · 2 months ago

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Glowing Caverns | C.SN

「pairing」 : san x fem!reader 「word count」 : 4.5k

「synopsis」 : you were on vacation, taking the time to get away from your chaotic city life and enjoy the tranquility of the beach. it was supposed to be an easy laid back few weeks yet you weren't expecting to catch the eye of a lifeguard who just couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of you.

「genre」 : smut, lil bit of fluff, lifegurard!san, summer fling au

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, kissing, flirting, unprotected sex, biting/marking, messy makeout, rough sex, slight clit play, dirty talk, teasing, dom!san x sub!reader, overstimulation, pet names (princess, baby, pretty, pretty girl...), multiple orgasms, slight buldge kink, creampie, dumbification, slight manhandling, praising, breeding, lmk if I missed anything!!

「notes」 : this has been sitting in my drive half finished for at least a month now and I can't believe that I'm just now getting back to it 😭, but lifeguard san was the first thought that came to mind when I saw the crazy ass video he posted 🥴. special shout out to @kitten4sannie for listening to insaneness and letting me share my crazy ideas, this ones for you babes! also, HAPPY NEW YEARS!! 🥂

The sun was shining brightly in the sky, warming you to the core as you walked along the beach. The book in your hand is long forgotten as you soak in the warm rays, enjoying the sea salt air. It was refreshing to finally have a place that didn’t have you running around like a chicken with its head cut off or a manager that would yell at you for every little thing that you did wrong and even the aches in your body due to overtime were melting away the longer you stood in the summer breeze.

Moving your hand up, you shielded your eyes from the bright sun as you looked around, you saw only a few families on the beach, parents lounging around on their towels under large umbrellas while the kids were off playing in the water or giggling with one another as they attempted to build sandcastles a little too close to the water. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched the three kids jump to their feet with squeals as a wave crashed over their newly built sandcastle, completely demolishing it.

This was the life that you had longed for, and you would give anything to be able to call this your ‘every day,’ but you knew that it would never be true. You couldn’t leave your life in the city behind; as much as you would love to, there was just too much at stake.

Letting out a conflicted sigh, you turned back to the ocean and watched the waves roll calmly on the surface. The gentleness of it all lured you in like a siren's call, tugging at every fiber of your being, and you took a step forward, allowing the cool water to wash over your bare feet, the temperature causing a chill to run down your spine.

After a few moments, you could feel the burning gaze of someone’s eyes, the hairs on the back of your neck standing tall. Peeking over your shoulder, you met the eyes of one of the lifeguards; he was perched on top of the watch-out chair. Heat flushed your cheeks as you took in his appearance, his shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes, but it didn’t hide the intensity of the look he was giving you. Your eyes took in more of his appearance, and you felt like your face was going to burst into flames at any moment. His honey skin was on perfect display. The only thing he was wearing was the bright red swim trunks that all of the lifeguards were wearing.

Swallowing thickly, you raised your hand, sending him a small wave, and your heart nearly stopped when he smiled, waving back. A smile of your own spread on your lips as you turned back around to look out at the ocean once more.

San’s eyes stayed glued to you even after you turned back around; something about you intrigued him. He’s never seen you around town before, and he knows almost everyone. The town doesn’t have very many tourists, so he was curious. It was like there was an invisible string tethering him to you, and he felt a pull, one that wouldn’t go away until he learned more. So he leaned over the other side of the lookout chair, searching for someone.

“Hey, Jongho!” He called out to the other male, who turned around a pair of dark sunglasses adorning his features. “Can you cover for me for a few minutes?” San asked, causing the younger to cock an eyebrow.

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll buy your lunch for the rest of the week.” San bargained, and Jongho thought about it for a second before ultimately nodding and agreeing.

“But don’t think I won’t throw your ass under the bus if boss shows up,” Jongho told him pointedly, and San chuckled before patting his shoulder.

“Thanks!” San then turned and jogged over to where you were standing while Jongho climbed up the ladder, drink in hand, as he leaned back in the seat.

You were crouched down, your book in your lap, as you combed through the sand to find any seashells. The sound of footsteps nearing you tore your attention away, and you pulled your hand from the water. Looking over, you found the lifeguard from earlier making his way towards you, so you shook your hand, trying to dry any of the leftover water before standing to your feet once more. Your heart fluttered when he got closer, and you were able to see his dimpled smile and his teeth peeking out from behind his lips.

“Hi.” He greeted you as soon as he got close enough, stopping just a few feet away from you.

You turned to face him, returning his smile as your fingers curled around the spine of your book, “hi.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around town before.” He tilted his head a little bit, causing some of his hair to fall further into his eyes, but he didn’t seem to mind.

The only thing that came to your mind as you watched him look at you curiously was that he was cute. His soft brown eyes drew you in like a freshly made batch of brownies, and his sweet smile left you wanting more.

You laughed softly at his statement before nodding your head, “That would be because I’m new around here.” You told him before quickly adding on, “Only for the summer though, then I’ve gotta go back home.”

San didn’t miss the solemn look that crossed your face when you mentioned going back home, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for you. However, hearing that you were going to be here for the summer gave him an idea, albeit possibly a horrible idea, but an idea nonetheless.

“Would you care for a tour of the town? I can show you all the best places around.” He gave you a cheeky smile, and you felt your stomach flutter.

The last thing you expected was for someone to offer to show you around the foreign town, let alone someone who was like a godsent. You thought it over for a few moments before ultimately deciding that it wouldn’t be a bad idea, seeing as you were going to be in this town for at least another three months, so you nodded your head with a smile of your own.

“I’d love that.” You told him before you heard shouting from behind him causing both of you to turn only to find an older man marching down the beach.

Chuckling nervously, the boy turned back to you, rubbing the back of his neck, “That would be my boss, I should probably get back. Do you know where the ice cream parlor is?” He asked, and you nodded, recalling seeing it as you were on your way to the beach. “Awesome, I get off at six. Meet me there?”

“San!” You heard someone shout causing the male in front of you to look over his shoulder, seeing the older man now standing next to the lifeguard post with Jongho.

“You should probably go,” You laugh softly. You would hate to see him get into any more trouble for staying and talking to you.

“Probably…” He sighed, turning back towards you, “I’m San, by the way.”

“I’m y/n.” You smiled up at him, and San felt his stomach swirl at the sight, but the moment was ruined when his boss once again yelled at him to get back to his post, causing the poor boy to let out a defeated sigh.

“I’ll see you later y/n.” He waved at you softly before turning and started jogging towards the lifeguard stand but stopped short when he remembered something, “Oh, y/n?” You looked at him at the sound of your name with a hum, “Make sure to wear your bathing suit.”

You nodded softly before watching as he walked back over to the lifeguard stand where his boss started giving him an earful as the boy who was sitting on the chair watched, a straw in his mouth. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. This might just be the best summer you’ve had yet.

Just like San said he would, he showed up at the ice cream parlor a little after six. He found you sitting in a booth off to the side with an empty cup in front of you as you scrolled through your phone. Walking over, he stopped just short of the table with a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked, causing you to lift your head, and as soon as you saw him, your face lit up, a smile spreading across your glossed lips. You shook your head before telling him to sit down, to which he happily obliged, sitting across from you and propping his arms on the tabletop.

“So, where are you taking me first?” You asked, taking a sip from your watered-down soda only to grimace slightly due to the bland taste, causing San to chuckle, ‘cute,’ he thought, watching you push the cup away with a small pout forming on your lips.

“Well, I was thinking we would just make our way back down to the beach.” He told you, and you looked at him with scrunched eyebrows. Weren’t you guys just at the beach? Noticing your confusion, he added, “There is a cavern just slightly off the beach that glows at night.”

Your eyes widened at the thought, you have heard of them before but you never thought that you would actually be able to go and see one in person. It would also make sense why he told you to keep your bathing suit on. However, a sudden unease starts to settle in the pit of your stomach at the thought of the sea life that normally comes out after dark.

“What about sharks and whatnot?”

“We won’t have to swim to get inside, plus the underwater entrance is too small for anything big to get in,” San reassured you, and your unease died down as you took in the sincerity that gleamed in his eyes. “If you’re ready, we can start heading that way.”

You nodded with a bright smile before standing from your seat and turning to grab your trash, but San was quicker. He walked over to the trash can, throwing it away as you followed behind him closely.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You pouted slightly, not used to people doing anything like that for you.

San just offered you a smile, walking to the door and opening it for you, “after you.”

–

About an hour and a half later, you walked side by side with San down the beach, your sandals in your hand as you talked. He had shown you so many small shops that had all kinds of things that you couldn’t find in the bigger cities and even took you to the small animal shelter where he volunteers from time to time. It was refreshing to see, and you wished that you could make it your everyday life, but alas, you couldn’t.

“The entrance is just over here.” San pointed off to the side of the cliff, the flashlight in his hand illuminating the ground underneath your feet. You followed after him until you made it to more rocky ground, so you stopped to put your shoes back on.

You had managed to put one on without too much struggle, but as you were putting the other on, you lost your balance, toppling over. However, instead of crashing on the ground, you felt arms wrapped around your midsection, keeping you upright. Looking up, your breath hitched in your throat as you noticed just how close San was. Stammering out an apology, you pushed away with a flustered face, and San watched in amusement as you avoided his eyes.

After your shoes were on, San led you to the entrance, “it's just through here.” He pointed the flashlight at the small entrance, glancing back at you. You followed after him, making sure to stay close so you don’t get separated. Then, finally, you broke through the entrance with a deep breath; the air smelled heavily of sea salt.

A small gasp fell from your lips when you looked up as San turned the flashlight off. The whole cavern was illuminated in an oceanic blue. The reflection of the water from the ceiling made it feel like you were underwater.

“It’s beautiful.” You spoke quietly as you stepped forward, and San looked over at you with a silly smile on his lips.

Heat flushed his face as he took in your appearance. The lights from the algae made your skin glow. You were breathtaking, and every fiber in his body was yearning to reach out to touch you, but when you looked over, catching him staring, he decided against it.

“C’mon, let’s get in the water.” He quickly spoke before you had a chance to even question why he was staring and jogged over to the edge of the water.

You stood there in confusion for a moment before looking back over at the taller male as he kicked his shoes off and pulled his shirt over his head. Your mouth watered slightly at the sight of his bare skin, watching the muscles in his back ripple as he threw his shirt off to the side.

Heat crept up your neck as he looked back at you with a small smile, but there was a gleam in his eyes that made your stomach flip. Swallowing thickly you walked over to the water’s edge as San dove in and kicked your sandals off once more.

“This is safe, right?” You asked, your voice coming out shaky as you took in San’s appearance after coming out from under the water.

“I’ve been swimming here since I was a kid. I promise it’s safe.” He offered you a reassuring smile, and you nodded before reaching for the hem of your shirt.

San couldn’t tear his gaze away from your body as you pulled your shirt over your head, revealing the bikini top that you were wearing underneath. He could feel his whole body start to burn as you pulled your shorts down your legs before tossing both items over with his discarded shirt.

You could feel his eyes burning into you as you threaded through the water, which was surprisingly warmer than you expected it to be. When you got close enough to him, he swallowed down the lump in his throat, but then you got a mischievous idea.

Cupping your hands together, you splashed water at him, drenching his face and hair. You broke down into a fit of giggles at the shock on his face after he wiped his eyes.

“Oh, you’re playin’ a dangerous game.” He chuckled deeply, and you felt a shiver run down your spine at the noise, heat pooling in your gut, but you tried to ignore it as he sprayed water right back at you.

A squeal fell from your lips as he rushed at you, and you ran from him, the whole cavern filling with the sounds of your guy's laughter.

You tried to get away from San’s outstretched hands after splashing him once again, but your foot slipped, and he managed to grab your arm. He pulled you towards him, your body almost weightless in the water.

“Got you.” He huffed, looking down at you as your hand fell to his chest to keep your balance.

The air around you grew still; the only sound was your heavy breathing. San’s eyes were glued to your face, and you could feel your body growing warmer by the second. He started to lean down, his lips ghosting over yours, and your eyes fluttered closed as he closed the space between your bodies.

San’s lips were soft against yours; the kiss was sweet, but it didn’t take long before it started to fill with need. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, groaning at the taste, a mixture of sea salt and your strawberry lip gloss. The sound was enough to leave your core dripping as you parted your lips, allowing him to invade your mouth.

A small whine fell from your lips as he bit down on your bottom lip gently before trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. You rolled your head to the side, giving him more space to leave wet, open-mouth kisses along your skin.

“San…” You let out a breathy moan as he nipped at your skin, his hands wandering your body while yours squeezed his shoulders to try and ground yourself. Your breath hitched in your throat when his hand cupped your boob over your bikini top.

“You sound so pretty, moaning my name.” He groaned against your skin, his senses going haywire as he kissed back up to your lips. He just couldn’t seem to get enough. He wanted more.

A small yelp fell from your lips when he picked you up effortlessly, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you out of the water. His lips then found yours, capturing them in a heated kiss.

Not a word was spoken as he laid you down on the smooth floor of the cavern, fingers dancing across your skin. Every fiber of your being felt like it had been set aflame as his hand crept down your stomach, tracing the hem of your bottoms.

He pulled away from your lips, taking in your disheveled appearance and your swollen lips glistening under the light. The sight made his dick swell in his trunks, the material straining, causing him to groan. Pulling back a little more, he curled his fingers around the fabric of your bottoms and looked back at you with a questioning gaze. After giving him the green light, San wasted no time in discarding you of your bottoms, leaving your dripping core on full display.

You felt small under his gaze, and you started to close your legs in embarrassment. However, San was quick to stop you. Grabbing your knees, he spread your legs once more, his cock twitching at the sight of your glistening pussy.

“Fuck.” He cursed, mouth yearning to latch on to your clit, but his aching cock was telling him that there was no time. So he prayed to the gods that he would get another chance to eat you out before the summer was over.

“San–” You were cut off by a choked moan when he pressed down on your clit suddenly, groaning at how wet you were. He leaned back over your body, caging you under his as he looked at your lust-filled eyes.

“Shit princess, you’re so fucking wet.” His head leaned down, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he continued to toy with your clit.

“San, please!” You whined, back arching off the ground when he added more pressure to your clit. Your body felt like it was on fire, and your core ached, begging to be filled. The growing desire becomes insatiable.

“Please, what, pretty girl?” He cooed, raising up to look at you with a teasing smirk, and that’s when you noticed the chain dangling from his neck.

Biting back another moan, you reached up and wrapped your fingers around the cool metal before pulling him down until his lips brushed over yours, “stop teasing and fuck me.”

San chuckled before removing his hand from your little bundle of nerves, “so demanding.”

You were about to retort, but all words died on your tongue as he leaned up to pull his trunks down just enough to let his weeping cock pop out. Noticing the shocked look in your eyes, he smirked before leaning over you again, lips brushing over your ear.

“You were the one demanding that I fuck you, so take it like a good girl, hmm?” His voice was deep, causing you to clench around nothing, a small whine falling from your lips.

Your whole body jolted when you felt his tip running over your slit before bumping into your clit. Then he started pushing into you without so much as a warning, causing you to choke out a broken moan of his name.

“San!” You cried out, nails clawing at his back, nearly breaking skin, and tears brimmed in your eyes. “‘S too much.”

“But you wanted this baby.” He cooed, thumb brushing under your eyes as tears started to fall, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find his forcefulness hot. Your walls squeezed around his aching cock, sucking him further in and he groaned, “plus you’re sucking me in, your pretty little cunt is just begging to be filled.”

Your eyes rolled back when he finally bottomed out, your mind fuzzing over from the full feeling. San watched you intently as you pulled at his body, wanting him close to you, a pathetic whimper falling from your swollen lips.

“Sannie!” You cried out, and his cock twitched at the whiny tone in your voice. The pressure was overwhelming, and you felt like you were about to combust if nothing was done about it soon. Your hips rolled up against San’s, and a choked gasp fell from your lips when his tip brushed over your sweet spot. “M-Move, please. San, please.” You spewed pleas like a mantra, and San’s lips curled into a smirk as he took your hips in his hands.

He pulled out until just the tip was left before pushing back in with enough force to make your tits bounce. A strangled cry tore from your lungs, and your hands flew to his forearm. His pace was slow but deep, hitting all of the right spots and turning you into a blubbering mess.

“Look at you taking me so well,” He cooed, pistoning his hips into yours until his tip hit your cervix.

Stars danced across your vision when his pace picked up, his grip so tight on your hips that you were sure that it would leave bruises the next day. However, all thoughts melted from your brain when his hand pressed down on your lower stomach, making you feel him even more.

“S-San– fuck! You feel so good, oh my god!” You cried out, back arching off of the ground when his thumb made contact with your clit. Your legs trembled around San’s waist as he brought you closer to your climax, your velvet walls squeezing around his throbbing cock like a vice.

“Shit, if you keep squeezing me like that, I’m gonna cum.” San groaned, his body leaning over yours to litter your chest with sloppy kisses. “Is that what you want, pretty girl? Me to cum in this sweet pussy of yours? To claim you as mine, is that it?” He growled against your skin, and it felt like your brain turned to mush at the thought of him cumming in you, and you tightened around him once more, giving away exactly what you wanted.

With just a few more thrusts, he sent you toppling over the edge, a string of broken moans falling from your lips as he fucked you through your high. Detaching his lips from your collarbone, he leaned over you, chain hanging just in your peripheral. Without so much as a second thought, you grabbed the jewelry and pulled him down, slotting your lips over his.

The kiss was anything but neat; he kissed you with a bruising force, and a mixture of spit covered both of your chins. Any sound you made from his relentless pounding was swallowed by his lips. Tears of overstimulation clouded your vision as you tried to tell him to slow down, but all that left your lips were incoherent babbles.

“Fuck! I’m sorry, pretty, just hold on a little bit more; you can do that, can’t you?” He grunted through gritted teeth as he sat back up, using his hold on your hips to plow you into oblivion. Your nails dug into his forearm, threatening to break skin as he pushed you closer to another climax.

“S-San!” You choked out a moan as he brushed over your sweet spot, causing stars to cloud your vision.

“Shit.” San groaned as he felt his own high right on the tip of his tongue. His hand then moved from your hip, trailing up your body until he caught your chin between his fingers. “Look at me pretty girl, I want you to watch as I fill your womb with my cum.”

His words were enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your body trembling as another high washed over your body. Your pussy spasmed around his cock as you continued to gush out your own cum. An incoherent mixture of his name and curses spewed from your lips as he continued to fuck you through another high until his own thrusts became sloppy.

“Eyes on me, princess.” He tapped your cheek, watching in amusement as you tried your best to focus your attention on him despite all of the pleasure your body was receiving. “F-Fucking–” His voice cracked as his climax hit him like a freight train, his warm seed spilling deep into your walls.

“Sannie!” You whine at the sudden feeling, back arching off of the ground once more when he stilled inside of you.

“You did so good for me, baby.” He huffed, leaning over to pull your lips into a gentle kiss, and your shaky arms wrapped around his neck, wanting to keep him as close as possible.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments more until San pulled away, causing you to whine at the sudden loss of contact. With a chuckle, he slipped out of your spent hole, watching as a mixture of his and your cum pooled on the ground beneath you. Swallowing thickly, he tore his eyes away, afraid that he would get hard again, and instead pulled his trunks back up before helping you back into your clothes.

“C’mon, we can go back to mine and watch a movie or something.” He smiled sweetly at you as he helped you pull your shorts over your hips, and you felt your face flush.

“Throw in some snacks, and I’ll be yours.” You teased, and he chuckled before grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers.

“I can make that happen.” He then pulled you back towards the entrance of the cavern and back to the beach before the both of you headed back to his place for the rest of the night.

You couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, if you kissed your city life goodbye, you could be happy here. The thought of having to leave San at the end of the summer after what just happened left an ache deep in your heart. So that’s all it took, was another flash of San’s dimpled smile to call your boss and tell him that you were going to quit.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

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wonryllis · 10 months ago

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the hot dad next door (m) | park sunghoon.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂?

preview. the ever quintessential first time dad moves in next door with his five year old and finds it impossible not to fall for you, the pretty girl who gives his daughter cookies and him; the doll eyes. obsessed with your entire being, unable to keep his hands off you, park sunghoon questions if he's just crazy or he's crazy over you.

or where, he notices the way you look at his hands a little too long for it to be innocent.

meet the cast. single dad!park sunghoon with his pretty neighbour fem!reader.

genre. DILFF AUU !!, SMUT MDNI, fluff, neighbours to lovers, sunghoon is quite literally yes insanely crazed over you and for the sake of god can't keep his dick soft, domestic a little bit i guess, i want to make her my wife trope EEEKKK, slight age gap (hoon in late twenties and reader in early twenties) more to be added.

word count. est around 20k or more

warnings. inaccuracies about parenting cause i aint a parent, i got no idea. more will be mentioned in the actual post.

releasing. TBD , progress update tag , second preview

park sunghoon was hot, he was a walking greek god. was single and wore these fitted suits that had you weak in the knees. if that wasn't hot enough, park sunghoon also had the cutest baby girl you had ever come across and it just made him hotter than he could ever have been.

"hey, um .. is ji—" sunghoon stands at the threshold of your open apartment door, one hand holding his creased blazer and the other rubbing at the back of his neck. embarrassed and shy at having to show up at yours looking like a mess after work because his daughter ran off while he was busy on a call and taking out her school bag from the backseat. and because everytime his daughter ran off, it was to the pretty girl next door who gives away sweet cookies all the time.

"is jia here? yeah she's in the kitchen," you answer, smiling soft and knowingly at the worried guy who barely looked like a dad. he worked in a corporate editorial, out before eight in the morning just as you prepared ingredients for your bakery. taking his daughter along to school, her excited voice resonating through the halls talking about how they were going to play with clay in class. around seven in the evening you'd hear her again, this time alone as she would skip over to your door because dada was too slow.

on weekends it'd be impossible to ignore the ruckus they made playing around, sometimes inviting you over for lunch because sunghoon apparently made too much and jia wanted to share her dada's delicious food. on some occasional weekends when he'd be called in to work for a few hours, jia would promise him to stay home and behave only to call you through the landline the moment he'd step out the door. and you would text sunghoon to come over to yours after work, his daughter munching on the new flavored cupcakes you made, unbothered about her dad and his scoldings.

"come on in, i made some almond lime tart, you could give me some feedbacks along with jia. you know she always says it's good and i can never know if it's actually good," sunghoon can't help but chuckle at that, slipping off his shoes by the front and walking inside. his eyes following your figure with a fond look as you tend to his daughter delicately, and might he admit— even more so than him.

you're sweet, you know how to handle kids; cue that one time jia was crying her eyes out after school and he had no idea what to do to comfort her, knocking at your door frantically and having his mind blown at how quickly you figured things out and calmed her down.

you're sweet, you know how to handle kids, you treat them both so well, always ready to help him out with jia, giving them sweet treats every other day and most of all— you're fucking pretty. way too pretty for him to handle.

FIRST TAGLIST (open.) @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @shawnyle @enhastolemyheart @belowbun @aaa-sia @niniissus @tobiosbbyghorl @imjakes-wifeofc1 @youresolivlie @eun-cherry @kimsunoops @aiden2001 @brownsugarbaybee @pockettwinzz @bangtancultsposts @diorikis @heelvsted @crimnalseung @iselltulips @yzzyhee @woniebae @river-demon-slayer @lovingvoidgoatee @antonsgirlfriend @kpopslover @bugcattie @slut4hee @yunjinswifee @woniefull @nanaheex @soobs-things @dammit-jjk @starlvcieszsq @mnxnii @skylaly @mintdsunoo @uyuchoco @anittamaxwynnn @rikiwaify-blog @kill4jl @ggparkjh @sstephenzz @judeduartewannabe @jungwoneez @aye2611-blog @hybeboyenthusisast @minjaexvz

#enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon smut #enhypen sunghoon imagines #sunghoon smut

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paintedonmyteeth · 3 months ago

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Life w/ Mr Crawling!

A QUICK WARNING BEFORE YOU READ: This is following after the Blissful Love Life ending, if you don’t want spoilers I suggest scrolling! — Anyways moving on from that, I FINALLY got the fucking motivation to put something out after how many months, (yay!) Starting off with my new horror game fixation :)))) Finally got my brain juices going, and I thank Homicipher for this. This is probably going to be me posting abt it for a while. BUT it gave me the motivation to write stuff at least. If you also noticed I changed the formatting a little with my hcs and I think I like it better this way w/o the bulleted list, so Imma def keep this.

⭑.ᐟ — Ever since you’ve escaped the other world with Mr. Crawling, you had some small difficulties in getting back in the swing of things. You no longer had to worry about your safety, check over the shoulders for any monsters, you had your normal life back now.

⭑.ᐟ — And this time you had Mr Crawling to share it with! :D

⭑.ᐟ — When you first brought Mr Crawling home with you, man was absolutely ecstatic and he immediately went exploring around the house while you fixed him some food to eat.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling really liked your place, it felt cozy and warm, it had you too of course, and it was so much more welcoming and nicer in appearance compared to his world. Plus there was a lot of new stuff he hasn’t seen before.

⭑.ᐟ — It was a nice change not having the house to yourself anymore, Mr Crawling made the place a little more lively with his presence, following you around the house like a lost puppy, occasionally asking a few questions.

⭑.ᐟ — You showed him many things, movies, books, and lots of other things. He even had his first shower too!

⭑.ᐟ — You even tried teaching him basic words in your language such as “hello”, “goodbye”, “thank you”, or “please”. While Mr Crawling was having a hard time getting a gist of them, he still tried his best. <3

⭑.ᐟ — With your old life back it also meant you had to pick up your job/college again too.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling was never fond when you left the house for this long, so he mostly sat around at the front door waiting for your return.

⭑.ᐟ — Then upon your arrival it’s extra cuddles tonight to make up for loss time. He’s sad that you left him alone for this long :((

⭑.ᐟ — On the bright side however he likes going on grocery runs with you! Since nobody else could see him, it wouldn’t bring any unwanted attention. Of course with Mr Crawling’s babbling as he followed you into the aisles, you brought headphones/airpods with you so people didn’t think you were insane for talking to yourself.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling in general is very happy you let him tag along with you leaving his world, he couldn’t be any happier getting to stay by your side. And his love for you grew as well! :)

⭑.ᐟ — The first time he tried saying something in your language was “I love you” to show his gratitude. Though it sounded a bit butchered for a first attempt, the sentiment still meant a lot to you and it was a step towards somewhere to say the least.

#homicipher #dead’s hcs #homicipher x reader #mr crawling #mr crawling x reader #gn reader #fluffies

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danidrabbles · 3 months ago

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Cardinal

Pairing: Logan Howlett ("Worst" Wolverine) x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (for themes and smut).

Word count: 16.6k

Summary: At the edge of the world, someone from another keeps you from stepping off.

Tags/Warnings (Please, read the warnings!!): Post-Deadpool & Wolverine, female reader (female anatomy etc + 2 mentions of hair long enough to fall into your eyes), strangers-to-lovers, depression, suicidal ideations, suicide attempt and mentions thereof, addiction, drinking alcohol, drugs (mentioned not used), panic attacks, sobriety meetings, anxiety, recovery, co-dependency vibes, sprinkles of soulmateism, explicit smut (oral and unprotected PIV), happy ending (yay!!). If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Notes: Deadpool and Wolverine re-triggered my X-Men obsession and what started as a means to write some smut actually became this idea about two broken people who shouldn't even have met in the first place finding each other. There's a lot of me in this story, more than there's ever been I think. I'm sorry for this glimpse into my head, and I'm sorry if this isn't as Reader-insert as it should be, but... I'm not that sorry, you know. Huge thanks to @javier-pena , for not only reading this over and fixing so many embarrassing mistakes, but also for saying she'd read this even if it was 20k words and always believing in my abilities as a writer, even when I sometimes didn't.

If you want to read the smut as a standalone, you can! Just CTRL + F (or search in page) for 'Logan reaches for' and read away.

THE LOOKOUT

With closed eyes, you inhale the cool, December air, before looking down at your feet. Here, at the edge of the lookout, the grass has been trampled. You imagine friends taking bets on who dares get closest to the edge, lovers making memories, families taking pictures. It’s strangely soothing that maybe you’re not the first to stand here to do this.

Far below your feet, the water laps at the rocks. The force of it depends on the weather and tonight it’s violent, with big splashes and crashing sounds. The wind tugs at your coat, pulling you towards the water as if to help you along, making you look up again as you hold your balance. In front of you, the line of the horizon is dark but visible – it would have been impossible to make out if the moon hadn’t been as bright as it is.

It’s like you’re looking at the edge of the world.

During the weeks that fall had made way for winter, you scoped the place out a couple times. The first time you stood at this cliff’s edge, the place it took you to mentally scared you so much that you got back into your car and broke down in tears. The next couple times, things became more and more serious, as your life crumbled around you, and your feelings numbed, and nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Something had crept in while you weren’t looking, settling somewhere behind your eyes and spreading out to make a home behind your ribs, slowly but surely changing you. And once you realized it, it was already too late. It had grown large, became jilted and jealous, like it wanted all of you. It pushed away everyone and everything you held dear, until it was just you and that… something.

Especially during the quiet of the night, the lookout became soothing, a strange sense of familiarity enveloping you each time you were here. It was addictive and pretty soon, it became a daily routine to visit. But lately it’s been losing its shine, your feelings here dulling and darkening too. You’re exhausted, fed up, tired of giving it more of you.

Today you want it to be your last time here.

You’ve had countless hours to contemplate what it would be like, imagined – all but romanticised – how the cold water would paralyse your limbs if the impact wouldn't do the trick. You read somewhere that it’s apparently like falling asleep when the water finally fills your lungs. You’ll be gone, but the thing will be too.

The thought makes your eyes fill with tears, but not from fear. All you feel is relief, like it’s right, how it’s supposed to be. It makes you smile despite everything, and–

“Hey, stop!”

A voice behind you thunders through the silence and makes you shriek into the night, dirt toppling over the edge of the lookout below the shuffle of your foot. A string of curses follows, heavy footfalls behind you indicating that the intruder is approaching you.

“Fuck off!” you throw over your shoulder, your voice a roar with how it’s amplified by the wind.

After, your throat closes up, fighting the angry tears over the fact that you can’t even fucking kill yourself in peace. Never have you seen anyone here at night, never. What you hate even more is how it breaks your momentum. The haze that was surrounding you is pierced, and your body’s baser instincts kick in. Adrenaline suddenly pumps through your veins, making your legs tremble, your heart hammer, your body scream for you to step back from where you’re standing. Your anger, however, has you nailed to the floor.

You almost miss the much softer, “Hey,” as a man steps into your peripheral vision. You pretend like you don’t hear him, or see him – you simply pretend he isn’t there, focussing on getting back into your previous mindset.

But then he takes his hands out of his pockets.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you warn, hating how your voice comes out trembling – weak.

“Easy.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

You stand there together for what feels like hours. You will yourself to not let it affect you, setting your jaw to keep your teeth from clattering on account of the cold, allow the wind to blow your hair into your eyes without brushing it away. Even when it begins to rain, you don’t move, don’t blink even once more than you need to. From the corner of your eye you watch the man shove his hands back in the pockets of the brown leather jacket he’s wearing, and you quietly celebrate that your surroundings are fazing him more than they are you.

“You know–” he begins.

“I’m not really looking for a conversation.”

“Me neither,” he immediately counters, suddenly impatient, “so I’ll get right to it: You planning on jumping? Because if you think the water’s gonna be nice to you, you’ve got that wrong. You’ll end up in there feeling everything, that fall isn’t gonna do shit.”

Having expected a gentle approach, his bluntness and his tone knock the wind out of you. You cock your jaw, the shame creeping up your body the first bit of warmth you’ve felt in a while. Your cold fingers ball to fists as you will yourself not to care. Yes, his words and the way he's shatteríng your expectations with them sting, but you don’t even know this guy–

“And there’s nothing fuckin’ peaceful about it, it’s just panic. Right before you go too far…” He raises a fist and holds it against the center of his chest, “...there’s this burning right here that’s hell.”

“And what makes you such an expert?” you finally spit out.

“Died like that a couple times,” he says without waiting a beat.

The casual statement of something so bizarre beats your resolve before you know it, your head turning in his direction. “‘A couple times’?”

“I, uh…” You watch him hesitate, the moonlight illuminating the tick of his jaw, the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way his chest falls as he sighs, “Let’s just say I can’t die.”

Before you can stop yourself, you snort at that. “That must fucking suck.”

He barks out a laugh, “Got that right.” It startles you when his head suddenly turns to you, when he looks you in the eye for the first time. “But trust me, being down there isn’t much better.”

There’s something in the way he looks at you that makes you waver. You can’t really place it, or decipher why it makes you want to open up to him. Maybe it’s because you’re freezing and it’s your body betraying you, tricking you into moving so you can generate some warmth, moving your lips to keep them from going blue. Or maybe it’s simply because he’s a stranger and it’s so much easier to be honest when there are no consequences.

“Things just feel so…,” you begin, voice shaky. Every possible way to end the sentence crosses your mind, seemingly all wrong, before you settle on what’s closest to how you feel, “endless.”

To your relief, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tell you to give it time that it will get better, or any of the other bullshit you’ve heard from all the other people that had been in your life and left a long time ago. You do find something else in the shift in his eyes, something you haven’t encountered before.

Understanding.

It might be worse. If anything, it’s overwhelming, making your eyes dart away from his as you sniff.

The wind still tugs at you, the waves still hit the rocks, but your moment seems to have passed. It’s a sobering conclusion, a twisted version of wrong place, wrong time. Or maybe it was him who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, the outcome is the same.

You take a step back, and another, but it takes considerable effort; you hadn’t taken your numb legs into consideration. You stumble, falling back on the dewy, cold grass, not quick enough to catch yourself on your hands. With a groan, you move to sit upright.

“Shit. Hey, you still with me?” The stranger kneels next to you, fingers lifting your chin to look into your eyes. “Jesus, you’re fucking freezing.”

“No s-sh-hit,” you retort.

He sighs, offering you a hand so he can pull you up. “C’mon, let's get you warmed up.”

– – – – –

Logan.

That’s his name.

It’s how he introduced himself, anyway, after he suggested you follow him. To his credit, he did offer to drive you, but you didn’t want to leave your car in the parking lot of the lookout. Logan waited 15 minutes for you while you put the blowers on the highest, warmest setting and waited for the feeling to return to your limbs. After, his brown truck led the way here – here being some hole in the wall, 24 hour diner. You could have not followed, but the drive was kind of mesmerizing; the night seemed darker than usual, and Logan’s tail lights served as a lighthouse.

Outside, the diner is all Christmas lights and flashing signs, but the interior is like something straight out of Twin Peaks; booths to the left, red barstools to the right, a girl that looks too pretty and too young to be here standing behind the counter. There were two other patrons you spotted along the way as Logan led you to one of the back booths. Once seated, Logan studied the pamphlets–or pretended to, more like, because as soon as the waitress came up he ordered two whiskeys and nothing else.

Between then and now, as you nursed your drink sip by careful sip, you hadn’t learned much more about him other than that he could knock back a glass of whiskey like he got paid to do so. And in truth, you like it this way; preferring silent company, the droning of the machinery behind the counter and the quiet hum of a song on the jukebox next to the entrance. The white noise helps to distract from the white noise in your head. Settling back into the leather cushions of the booth, you let some warmth seep back into your body. Opposite you, Logan does the same.

Some moments after you finish your drink, one of the waitresses walks up to your booth to ask you about a refill, like she’s asked Logan twice now. You’re handing her the glass when Logan says, “She’s had enough.”

Your head whips from her to him. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t say anything, and from the corner of your eye, you see the girl leave. With your glass. Logan’s is on his lips, his eyes observing you over the rim, looking at you like he– Dammit. You sigh deeply, a sense of anger filling you. You don’t need this, least of all from him. When you stand from the booth, those eyes follow you, making you voice your observations,

“Quit pitying me, Logan.”

“I’m not,” he says before taking another sip. “You still have to drive.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “And you don’t?”

Logan shrugs. “It’s different for me.”

Anger is still prevalent in your voice when you ask, “Well, let me guess, it’s another case of ‘I died like that a couple times’?”

He hums.

“And how does that work?”

“Regenerative ability,” he sighs. Another sip before he elaborates, “X-Gene.”

The admission makes you plop back down in your seat. Well, that explains things – he’s a mutant. You’re not familiar with that world, but you know enough to know it meant that. It isn’t like you couldn’t have deduced it before, but truthfully, you kind of thought he was bullshiting you as part of some tactic. Now, his actions and words make more sense: He really knows what it’s like to... That’s why he had that look on his face. Suddenly, you see him in a different light–

“Now who’s pitying who, hmm?” Logan asks, giving you a thin-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he sets his glass down on the table.

“I’m not, I’m just… processing. So this...” you lift his glass, swirl the contents around, “...doesn’t even affect you?”

“It does. For a few seconds.” He plucks the glass back from your hand, and throws the whiskey back with one gulp. His pupils dilate, pushing the hazel of his irises out until his eyes are almost black for a second, two… before going back to normal. “But if I chugged the bottle, I’d pass out.”

“Well, so would I,” you say with a chuckle. “So maybe we’re not that different after all.”

Just as the corner of his mouth lifts, your smile falls, because… it isn’t true; you’re very different. You’re pretty sure you don’t have what it takes to do what he did tonight. To care enough to do it. To sit with a stranger and hear them bitch and moan about being denied a drink. A feeling creeps up on you, sticky and uncomfortable, like you’ve overstayed your welcome—burdened him.

“I should head home,” you say, standing again.

Lightning fast, Logan’s hand shoots out to close around your wrist. “That really where you’re going?”

“Yes,” you reply. When you pull your hand back, he doesn’t let up. You fish your car key out of your pocket with your free hand, voice tighter when you say, “Let me go.”

“Just promise me something,” he says, eyes as dark as they’d been earlier, yet his drink has gone untouched since. “Don’t go back there again.”

“Not making promises I can’t keep,” you say, giving him a wry smile. “To strangers, but least of all to myself.”

He sighs, and lets you pull yourself from his hold.

THE CRAVING

New Years comes and goes, and you quickly discover that it was foolish superstition to think that it might change how you feel.

You find yourself in some club, a drink in each hand. You hate to admit it, but Logan’s words scared you out of your original idea and the only time you can bear to think of how to move on from it is when alcohol soothes the embarrassing grief of your shattered, macabre fantasy. It’s not a good way to deal with things, but it works.

There’s a part of you that welcomes feeling anything at all, but that… something inside you is busy trying to squash it.

It’s getting somewhere, because you have no idea how much you’ve already had to drink, but you’re buzzing pleasantly. Adding to it, you knock both drinks back, slamming the glasses on the bar before spinning around and facing the crowd of dancing bodies. The music sucks, the dance floor is cramped, you’re tired… The truth is that you’re too old for this, but it’s easy to escape here, surrounded by strangers. You clumsily drag the back of your hand over your wet mouth, push your sweaty hair from your eyes, and join them.

The past couple weeks, you found yourself craving something. Contact. And here is where you can get your fill; a hand on your waist, lips on your ear, the music too loud and yourself too drunk to even comprehend what’s being said, but never more. You want them to get close, but never too close.

After some time – could be an hour, could be 10 minutes – you make your way to the bathroom. It’s quieter here, the dulled thump of the music making the time you spend there feel slow and syrupy.

When you exit the stall, you bump into someone.

It’s a man. The dark hood over his head obscures his eyes, but you can’t help but think he’s looking right at you when a bright, almost unnatural grin appears on his face. It draws you in like a magnet, more so when he says, “Need something to take the edge off?”

Curiously, you watch as he opens his palm, long fingers unfurling slowly until they reveal a small plastic bag in his hand.

“First time’s on the house.”

You have no idea what it is exactly, but your eyes widen. This is new territory for you, and all the possibilities it opens up are suddenly invading your mind. As if on auto-pilot, you reach for the place where you keep your money, the sound of the door opening completely lost on you.

A hand closes around your bicep, pulling you aside with a quick yank of an arm.

“She isn’t interested, pal.”

It’s another man, who effortlessly tucks you half behind him. Before you can protest beyond an indignant huff, there’s a sound, like a sword being unsheathed, and you catch a flash of red, and of knives. Frowning, you try to get a better look, but your view is obscured by the man’s shoulder. The hooded man seems undeterred, regarding the weapons with the same sickening grin, before leaving the bathroom, muttering something that you don’t understand on the way out. The sword sound returns, the man twists around, and–

“Logan?” you slur in disbelief.

Logan doesn’t reply, instead takes hold of your arm again, making you follow him out of the bathroom. There he stops the two of you to murmur something to a woman wearing the same clothes as him, before tugging you along again. You’re stumbling after him on account of his pace and the iron grip he has on you as he leads you to the back door. He pushes it open with enough force to make the hinges creak, a gust of wind blowing in your face. It’s a contrast to go from the crowded, sweaty club to the silent, cold back-alley where tall brick walls and employee cars cage you in. You shake your arm and Logan’s grip loosens – another and he lets you go.

“How did you even find–” You cut yourself off, eyes widening, “Oh, my god, are you following me?”

Logan scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, please, do you think I have time to follow you around all day?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? You and your fucking…,” you gesture wildly into the air at him, “savior complex.”

“I work here,” he growls. When you give him a look, he adds, “It’s temporary. ‘Sides, me and my savior complex are the reason that creep isn’t selling god knows what to you in that bathroom right now!” His voice is a roar, echoing off the walls around you.

“Maybe I wanted that creep to sell god knows what to me in that bathroom,” you say, doing a poor impression of his voice, before turning and walking away from him.

Logan sighs. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.”

“And then what, huh?”

“I don’t fucking know, Logan,” you say, twisting around to face him again, arms spread out by your side. “Figure out a new way out of this.”

“Yeah? Third time’s the charm?”

“Why do you even care, huh? You don’t even know me,” you say. Almost immediately, you let out a bitter laugh as your own words hit your ears, a sad realization dawning on you. “But I guess that makes two of us.”

It’s not like you expected him to, but he doesn’t answer.

“You know I used to like myself? I used to smile, I used to have friends, I used to be more sober than drunk. But this feeling, it takes… everything.” You raise a fist, hold it to the center of your chest. “It takes everything I love, pushes away everyone I love, including myself. It eats me up, and wants more and more, until I’m something I’m not and until I’m so far away from that version of myself, my old self, that it feels easier to just fucking–” you pause with a wet gasp for air.

“Destroy yourself,” Logan finishes for you.

Your chest heaves, an unshed tear clings to your lash line. “Exactly.”

He takes a step closer to you. “Let me take you home,” he says, voice gentle.

You should hate the implications of that gentleness, but you don’t. In your drunk state of mind, it’s easier to admit it’s nice that someone understands, that someone’s there to stop you from going too far…

Tomorrow, when some of your pragmatism returns, you’ll deny this embarrassing thought ever occurred; if relying on other people worked, it would have worked a long time ago, and you wouldn’t be standing here with him. If you’re lucky, you might even forget this entirely, and wake up with a hangover that you’ll enjoy a little too much because it feels like a punishment–

“What about your job?” you ask with a sniff.

Logan’s palm finds the space between your shoulder blades with a gentle push, the warmth of it seeping in through your clothes, and he leads you to his truck. “They’ll manage without me.”

– – – – –

When you wake, your world is tilted sideways, a blanket is pulled up to your chin and there's a pillow under your head. They’re not your own; the blanket is itchy and the pillow’s too small. When you try to move your legs, they stick uncomfortably to the material below them, and you realize you’re on a leather couch. You squint at the light that comes in from a window across from you–

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

The voice startles you, eyes shifting to focus on the source: A man lying on his front on the floor, chin in his hands as he kicks his feet back and forth in the air.

“Wish I could say it’s a pleasure, but it hasn’t been very pleasurable. You’ve been barfing up the place since the moment you stepped inside. Kept poor Al up all night. Her ears are sensitive,” he adds with a whisper. “But don’t worry, she left about an hour ago.”

“Who are you?” you slur, blinking against the light.

“Logan.” He sighs when you frown. “I know, not how you remember. This is what I look like during the day; blessed with incredible good looks at night and, well,” he gestures at his face that’s covered in scars, "this, during the day. Bit of a reverse Princess Fiona situation–”

“Cut it out, Wade,” comes the sharp protest from next to you. With considerable effort, you turn your head and see the actual Logan, slumped back in a recliner next to the couch, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes while motioning for the other man to go.

“I’ll let you two talk.” Wade winks.

Logan stands when Wade does, walking from your field of view. Your head is scrambling to catch up, trying to piece together what happened last night, but only coming up with bits and pieces.

“How are you feeling?” Logan asks as he makes his way back to you, handing you a glass of water.

You flinch when the front door closes behind Wade with a bang, before taking the glass from Logan and taking a few thankful sips. “Like shit.”

“Yeah,” is all he says as he sits back down.

“What–”

“You fell asleep in the car. Didn’t know where to take you, figured the couch was the safest place.”

“Oh…,” you say, voice small.

You try not to think about being so wasted that you had to be carried out of Logan’s car, or about what Wade said earlier about the things that happened as soon as you stepped inside the apartment. During your silence, Logan’s fingers fiddle with the armrest, before his hand balls into a fist, and it unlocks something in your hazy memory.

“I have the weirdest memory of you having… a sword?”

You watch as Logan’s lips purse in amusement. His tongue rolls around in his mouth, seemingly contemplating something, before saying, “You probably saw these.” He holds up his fist, flexing his forearm before three blades shoot from between his knuckles like claws, accompanied by a shing!

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you startle, spilling some water on your blanket. Your head spins with your hangover and the bizarity of the situation. If it didn’t sound so much like how it did in your memory, you might think you were still drunk.

There’s so many things you want to ask, your intrigue almost winning out over your hangover until the sharp start of a headache gives you pause. Instead, you take another sip of water before rubbing your temple.

“It’s a story for another time,” Logan says, like he can read your mind, and you want to ask him that, too. His claws retreat, the cuts they leave between his knuckles immediately smoothing over until they’re gone. “I gotta go check if I still have a job.”

The words make you feel warm all over, the memory of your back-alley conversation coming back in full force. The thought of the things you admitted to him and that you put him in the position that he had to risk his job for you make you feel even warmer, your gaze no doubt laced with embarrassment and worry when you look at him.

“‘S not your fault,” Logan assures, standing and fishing his car key from the pocket of his jeans. “You don’t have to rush but um, make sure you close the door behind you on the way out. Gets jammed sometimes.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, watching as he makes his way to the front door.

He takes a final glance at you over his shoulder, then leaves, accompanied by a bang.

THE PUZZLE

It takes you a little over a week to muster up the courage to go back. Admittedly, your courage is aided by another, foreign feeling. You don’t have a name for it yet, or maybe you’re afraid to call it what it is, but somewhere along the week, you became consumed with the thought that feeling like you did wasn’t all there was. That there is something beyond this.

Perhaps foreign wasn’t the right way to describe it, because it is something you’ve felt before – it’s just been long dormant. The last time, it lasted about a month before it all came crashing down, and you swore you wouldn’t fall for it again, but you can’t help it. The feeling’s too sweet, and the idea that there’s still some baser instinct willing you to keep fighting for yourself makes you feel like the sun is shining on you.

So yeah, maybe you’re just having one of your good weeks, where the thing sleeps – quiet while its presence still simmers. But you figured now’s your chance to take advantage of its unguarded moment.

Sneaking into the building is surprisingly easy. It helps that it isn’t anything fancy. You wanted to forego the humiliation of ringing the bell and him not letting you in, but standing in front of the door now, panting after climbing three flights of stairs, you don’t know if this is much better.

Just when you’re about to knock, the door swings open. In the opening, Logan has one arm in his jacket, head twisted to watch the other that’s caught halfway in the sleeve. It takes him almost bumping into you to realize your presence. “Shit, sorry.” He steadies himself with a hand on your arm, the touch leaving you as fast as it appeared.

“Hi,” you breathe, taking a step back to give him a little more space.

He nods in greeting. “Brings you here?”

It takes you a moment, caught off guard by him skipping over pleasantries and cutting right to the chase, despite your best intentions; it’s not that he’s ever been any different in his interactions with you.

“I came by because I, um, owe you an apology, for my behavior at your workplace and for, you know…,” you trail off, gesturing at the door.

“Barfing up the place!” comes a shout from inside the apartment.

Logan’s eyes close with a sigh, before he steps into the hallway with you and closes the door with a bang.

“That,” you finish sheepishly. “I’m really sorry.”

He nods in acknowledgement.

“I also wanted to ask, um, if you want to come with me to get a coffee. To make it up to you.”

Logan just looks at you, the leather of his jacket creaking as he crosses his thick arms in front of his chest. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly. You hate how he somehow can see right through you, how he makes you elaborate, and honest.

“I want to quit drinking,” you say, fiddling with the sleeve of your coat. “It doesn’t make me better, and when I don’t do it I finally feel a little… normal. Maybe coffee’s technically just as bad, but it’s the only thing that’s currently acting like… like a reverse gateway drink? And I feel like you’re the only person I know that might get that feeling of–”

“I do,” Logan cuts in, voice softer than before – assuring. His arms drop from where they’re crossed and he starts making his way to the stairs. “Let’s go.”

– – – – –

You don’t know this coffee place, and from the way he looks around and shifts around in a chair that might be a bit too small for him, neither does Logan. Main reason you picked it is because the booths remind you a little too much of a bar – and you like the tall windows. The coffee’s pretty decent.

“Did they fire you?” you ask, picking at a loose corner of one of the laminated menus before setting it back in its holder.

“Boss commended me for helping a customer, but not so much for leaving before my shift ended,” Logan replies. “Got off with a warning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Said that already, and I accepted,” he says. When he takes a sip of the coffee, he winces. “No need to worry about it anymore, okay? I would do it again.”

You nod, folding your hands around the warm cup in front of you.

“But, um, Wade hasn’t shut up about�� the incident.” There’s a different tone to his voice, like he’s trying to lighten the mood. “His words.”

“You know, I kind of get the feeling that Wade doesn’t shut up about a lot of things.” It comes out a little meaner than you intend, but it makes Logan laugh and finally slump back in his chair a little.

“You’re a quick study.”

Offering him a short smile in return, you continue with the other real reason you came to see him, before you chicken out. “I also stopped by because I wanted to, uh… because I realized I never really… I never… I never thanked you, for um… And–”

With a shake of his head, Logan sits upright. “Y’don’t–”

To your horror, your eyes brim with tears, “Logan, I’m supposed to be dead–”

“So am I,” he counters. He lets the words hang between the two of you for a moment, until you look at him, before he continues, “I’ve been where you are. Past it, even.”

You don’t know what to say to that, if the lump in your throat will even permit you to speak, but it’s impossible to look away from him. Logan’s gaze is piercing, frown ever present, but it’s not from anger. Instead, it’s like he’s searching for something, the right thing, to say. The silence doesn’t bother you; if anything, it makes his words seem more genuine when he does speak,

“I had someone who was annoying enough to not give up on me when I could really use it. If getting a coffee with you that’s, frankly…,” he makes a face as he pauses, “a horrible excuse for a coffee, helps… I can do that. I want to do that.”

The corner of your mouth lifts as you blink away your tears. “Was it Wade?”

Logan lets out a chuckle, and it’s honest – fond. “Yeah.”

“Figured,” you say. “How did you meet him?”

Across from you, Logan stills. You swallow thickly, adjusting yourself in your chair. It’s an innocent question, but maybe it isn’t something he’d like to revisit right now. Logan’s mug squeaks when he grips it tighter, and he looks at you with something like defeat–

It makes you deflate. This must be what you looked like the night you met…

There’s no way to have prepared for what he tells you next: That he came from another timeline about three months ago, that he and Wade saved this one from being destroyed and almost got killed in the process, that he has nothing to go back to after the death of his team, so he stayed here.

There’s hesitation in it, like he isn’t telling you the whole story, though you don’t comment on it. He doesn’t owe you anything and you’re too busy putting all the pieces in the Logan-shaped puzzle in your mind together; his words and actions towards you are starting to make more and more sense.

“It’s a very brave thing the two of you did,” you say when he’s finished.

“Hmm, it was all Wade,” Logan muses. “He did it all for the people he cares about.”

“I’m sure you would have done the same if you were in his place.”

At that, he lets out a dry laugh with absolutely no joy behind it. “Do me a favor, don’t put me on a pedestal.”

You frown, but before you can comment, he stands. A knot forms in your stomach, worried you’ve offended him, but he clears up the uncertainty immediately.

“I gotta go but um, Wade’s friends–,” he stops himself, correcting, “our friends are coming over to watch a movie, next week, 7:30. I have no idea what crap they’re going to be watching but… it’s nice. It’ll be nice to be around good people.” Logan doesn’t wait for your answer, simply takes his wallet from his pocket and leaves enough money to cover the bill.

“Wait, no, I invited you,” you protest. “I should–”

“You can pay next time.”

When you nod, he says his goodbyes with a jerk of his head and makes his way to the door.

– – – – –

You see Logan two more times for coffee that week. He never lets you pay.

THE PANTRY

“–but it’s the best one!” Wade protests, DVD in hand.

“They fly a car into space, Wade,” Laura sighs.

“Launched off a jet,” he corrects. Like it helps.

You cover your mouth with the back of your hand, hiding the smile that appears at everyone’s babbling. Unbeknownst to you, you had found yourself invited to a double feature night, with Wade as the self proclaimed DVDJ. The credits had barely started rolling on A Good Day To Die Hard, or Wade had another DVD at the ready. It was met with the same amount of enthusiasm as when he presented the first.

It hadn’t been easy to make yourself go to this tonight. On your way, you’d thought of turning around at almost every step. Of course, that was all before you knew it would be this fun, and that you’d be relieved you hadn’t canceled last minute. Even meeting everyone hadn’t been as bad as you feared.

There’s Peter, Wade’s friend. Ellie, another one of Wade’s friends. Yukio, Ellie’s girlfriend. Laura, Logan’s daughter. Mary Puppins, Wade’s small, disgusting but adorable dog, who had greeted you with equal amounts saliva and enthusiasm, before falling asleep next to the TV, completely unbothered by the commotion. Unlike Althea, Logan and Wade’s blind roommate, who had taken one listen to the gaggle of voices and left. The elusive Vanessa, Wade’s ex-but-we-might-get-back-together you heard about a couple times, wasn’t there.

Logan had been right, it was nice to be surrounded by good people. Especially good people who were… unconventional. It made joining them less complicated, less performative, and as the evening progressed it made you a participant instead of a silent observer. Wade even called you, “good for the group dynamic,” and it made you beam with pride.

“Don’t they have like, rockets attached to the car?” Ellie questions, to which Yukio’s eyebrows knit together.

“Exactly!” Wade exclaims, mistaking her confusion for enthusiasm. “Citizen Kane wishes.”

There’s more grumbling from everyone when Wade pops the DVD into the player, and he grumbles something back about how Logan would back him up if he wasn’t in the bathroom because he, quote unquote, goes way back with some of these dudes.

You’re pretty sure he’s the only one who knows what he’s even talking about.

An empty bowl of popcorn rests in your lap, and as you put it on the table, you notice how sticky and greasy your fingers and palms are. When the opening credits begin to roll, you get up to wash your hands, assuring Wade he doesn’t need to pause the movie before you go.

The apartment’s small, so it isn’t far to the kitchen, but it’s nice to stretch your legs. You can still hear the sounds from movie night; tell-tale action movie music, comments of disbelief and Wade shutting them down. They’re more faint, though, more so when you turn the tap on and wash your hands.

Right as you’re finished, you hear a dull thud. You turn the water off, head tilted and at attention while you dry your hands. There’s another sound, like a muffled groan. It’s coming from the pantry, you realize, noting that the door is slightly ajar. There’s a shing! sound followed by a distressed grunt, and before you know it you’re walking over, wrapping your fingers around the door to pull it open–

You’re not sure what it was you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. Logan’s sitting on the floor, uncharacteristically small, curled up against one of the walls. His chest is heaving, shoulders all but going up to his ears with how he’s trying to draw in breaths. Next to him, his fist is balled against the hardwood, claws buried in the floor.

Fuck.

Dropping to your knees, you wedge yourself between his. “It’s okay, you’re having a panic attack,” you explain, your hands landing on his shoulders with a light shake. “You need to breathe. I’ll help you, just look at me.”

Logan’s head stays tipped down, a deep, rattling breath sailing from his mouth as he curls further in on himself.

“Hey!” you say sharply, cupping his jaw with two hands and tilting his face up, “Look at me.”

Logan’s eyes are wet when they meet yours, moving frantically as they search your face, tears spilling over when he blinks. Something changes in his gaze, like he finally sees it’s you, and his bottom lip begins to tremble. His hand lifts from where it’s buried in the floor, clutching onto your wrist like a lifeline.

“Breathe,” you instruct, trying not to flinch at the sharp claws in front of you. He doesn’t catch on immediately, so you overdo the purse of your lips when you blow out a breath before exaggerating an inhale through your nose, showing him what to do. It starts off shaky, a fresh set of tears falling from Logan’s eyes as he does as you instruct, but after a couple of times you find a rhythm together. The silver between his knuckles slowly disappears. “There you go, good job. Keep going.”

You sit like that, until the wild shift of his eyes stops, his pulse steadies beneath your fingertips, and eventually his eyes close with a deep exhale. His grip on you loosens and you take it as your cue to let go of him, slumping back against the wall opposite him with a sigh of relief. The both of you catch your breath, sitting together in silence until Logan breaks it.

“Came outta nowhere… suddenly I was back there… letting them down.”

“It caught you off guard, it happens–”

“I let them get killed,” he says, voice raw. “They were like– They were my family, they trusted me to be there for them and I… I was too caught up in my own bullshit. I should have been with them, I should be dead with them.”

Logan’s tears still come, but the words almost sound reverent; as if saying them out loud just to punish himself with his own shortcomings is a balm. He’s talking about his team from there, you realize, and something clicks. All this time, you thought this was about him being unable to die due to his mutation, but it’s more than that. It’s shame, remorse, grief, survivor’s guilt, all wrapped into one.

It’s the final piece of your mind puzzle that makes his picture appear.

“How– How can I ever atone for that?” he asks. “How can I ever–”

“Logan, you can't change your past,” you interrupt carefully. “You made your choices and they made theirs, and you honored them by– by…stepping up to the task, by doing what you did with Wade.”

“What if it wasn’t enough?”

“What if it was?” you counter. Your hand finds his knee with a squeeze, before adding, “You did what they would have done. And now you… you need to allow yourself to honor their memory without feeling like you have to destroy yourself to do it. You deserve that.”

Logan blinks at you, eyes still glossy. He looks devastated yet calmer than before, like the emotion is still there, but displaced. For a good while, you sit with him like that while his sniffles lessen and his breathing returns to normal… until there’s a loud explosion coming from the living room. It’s followed by cheers and hollers, and you’re both suddenly reminded of where you are.

“C’mon,” you say, patting Logan’s knee before using it as leverage to haul yourself up with a groan. You give him room by holding the door open for him. “Better get back before we miss the good stuff.”

Still on the floor, Logan exhales heavily. “Think this was the good stuff.”

– – – – –

Three weeks later, on your way to your third movie night, you catch Wade and Vanessa making out in the building hallway.

It stops you dead in your tracks and makes for an awkward meeting with Wade’s mystery woman, who is beautiful but very direct when she asks you what the fuck you’re staring at. Wade certainly has a type when it comes to the company he keeps… He quickly shushes the situation, introducing the two of you, and it immediately makes Vanessa’s expression twist into recognition.

“Nice to meet you,” she says, followed by an apologetic smile.

You respond in kind.

When Wade tugs at her jacket impatiently, they brush past you and make their way to the exit. “See you around!” she throws over her shoulder.

A grin forms on your lips, realizing what you just witnessed, and you race up the stairs. With Wade gone, you’re not sure if there will be a movie, but at least you have gossip to share with your friends.

THE MEETING

April flies by, rolls into May, and thing’s are… okay.

With some help, you find a therapist. It’s good, she’s good, but it’s difficult to be confronted with things that are painful, week after week, and to keep reminding yourself it’s all part of the process you’re going through.

Last week, after a particularly difficult session, you’d left her office being auto-piloted by dark feelings, like they knew exactly when to strike. You had turned corners and crossed streets, wandering as you stewed on everything you’d discussed – like your mind was playing a constant loop of your most painful moments. It was a small miracle you had heard your phone, and that you had the presence of mind to thumb the green button.

You’d answered without saying a word.

“Got any plans?” Logan had asked on the other side of the line.

“No,” you’d replied, coming back to yourself a little bit at the sound of his voice.

“Al’s making her meatballs – she and Wade can’t agree on if they’re famous or infamous. Thought you might like to come. If it tastes like shit, we’ll order in.”

You’d hummed, managing to ask, “What time?”

It had stayed quiet on the other end, and that’s how you’d known he was onto you, could picture the pinch of his brows, his lips forming a thin line. For the first time, you welcomed it—wanted so badly to reach through the phone, shake his shoulders, ask for his help and accept it, like he had done with you weeks ago.

“Sounds to me like now might be good.”

“Yeah,” you had agreed, the constricting tightness in your chest easing up. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.” You’d released a shuddering breath, ear still pressed to the phone as you took in your surroundings before you auto-piloted yourself to a different destination.

“Logan?”

“Still here.”

“Thank you for calling.”

“‘course. Get here soon, I’ll stay on the phone.”

The afternoon had ended with Logan and yourself allowing Althea to boss you around in the small apartment’s kitchen, rolling meatballs, sharing stories — Althea’s recollection of something that happened to her in her 20s that involved her stealing a police horse while wearing nothing but a thong, made you cry from laughing.

The meatballs were the best you ever had, though you couldn’t be sure if they actually were, or if it was just the taste of the moment that was better than anything had been that day.

Sometime after dinner, Logan had nudged your shoulder to show you a little plastic chip. He flashed it at you long enough that you could read the words one month, before he pocketed it again. Then he suggested you come with him next week.

“I thought it was bullshit too, but it helps,” he’d explained. “Figured I couldn’t continue to drink whatever that stuff is you call coffee to… avoid my problems.”

You contemplated his suggestion. Things were going well for you in that regard, but your therapist had also recommended you go to one of these things, even if it was just for the community aspect of it. It just made it so… official. Your problems, but most of all, your recovery. You weren’t good at keeping promises to yourself, and this felt like a big commitment. Not to mention the speeches and other people’s problems...

But as Logan told you more about it, the location, how it had been for him, you sensed something else between the lines: He wasn’t just asking for you, he was also asking for himself. Maybe… this was his way of telling you he needed some support.

That’s how you find yourself inside a high school gymnasium a week later. It’s as gloomy as you expected. Slick floors, gray fold-out chairs set in neat rows, buzzing lights in a high ceiling, and a slightly raised podium with a whiteboard that reads a welcome message in capital letters.

Unsure of what to do, you follow Logan as he weaves through the crowd to find a seat. As you do, it strikes you that there’s a pretty even distribution of people, with many genders, ages and lifestyles represented. Eventually you take a seat; not quite in the back, but definitely not in the front.

The whole thing goes by in a blur, but where you expected to be overwhelmed, you feel… connected. Here you are, surrounded by people with different backgrounds, different lives, but all their stories have something you can relate to. Where you thought addiction was the common denominator, it’s actually the desire to turn your lives around that unites you the most.

“Before we end the night I want to circle back to last week, when we spoke about goals, or things we want to work towards,” says the woman leading the meeting – you’re ashamed to admit you already forgot her name. “Does anyone want to share something about that?”

It takes a lot to hide your surprise when Logan raises his hand.

“Logan! Come on up!” She sounds as surprised as you feel, beckoning him to her.

The plastic chair he sits on creaks when he stands and his boots squeak against the shiny floor as he does as she asks. He looks so out of place on a podium; both larger than life behind the lectern and lost to the space of the stage. He clears his throat as he retrieves a paper from his pocket and unfolds it while his eyes scan the room until they land on yours. You give him a little nod of encouragement, and it kicks him into gear.

“Not good at this stuff, so I’m going to keep it brief,” he starts.

It earns him a chuckle or two from the other attendees, and you can tell he doesn’t expect it when he looks up from his paper. Your hands clasp together with nerves as you watch him divide his weight from one leg to another, before focussing his gaze back down.

“My life has changed a lot over the past few months. For the first time in a long time, it’s not all bad. Coming here has been good. I’m starting to feel more like I did before–”

He stops his monotonous droning with a frustrated sigh, stuffing the piece of paper in his pocket and sounding considerably more lively after.

“I have people I care about again, and um, it scares me. ‘Cause I don’t want to let them down, and every day I feel like I will because of all of my… past shit.” He pauses and swallows hard before he continues, “They show me so much kindness and understanding, that… that even though it’s fucking hard, I want to be able to see myself the way they see me. And allow them to care about me without feeling like I… have to earn it all the time, without destroying myself to do it.”

You exhale for what feels like the first time in an eternity.

“So, that’s what I’m currently working on.” Logan sighs. “That’s it. Thank you.”

A small applause follows, and you quickly unclasp your hands to join in.

Your palms hurt after.

– – – – –

“It was really nice, what you said in there,” you say, fingers caressing a little plastic chip of your own that you keep safe in your coat pocket. You haven’t felt proud of yourself in a while, but tonight you do.

The evening is nice, the setting sun bathing the city in hues of orange and pink. Your pace is slow and comfortable, your arm occasionally brushing Logan’s when you make room for all the other pedestrians. You didn’t plan on him walking you home, but he insisted and you enjoy the company – it makes you a little sad when you turn onto your street.

Logan scoffs in reply.

“I’m being serious,” you say, knocking your elbow against his arm on purpose now. “It was nice for people to hear a guy like you say those things. I’m proud of you.”

You swear he blushes. “A guy like me, huh?” he asks, almost amused.

It’s your turn to scoff. “You know what I mean.”

“A mutant?” He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“No,” you say, because it’s not what you meant, but the hint of seriousness in his voice and the fact he’s not entirely wrong make you track back. “Well, maybe that, too, but I meant someone who looks like you, allowing themselves to be vulnerable. Sets a nice example.”

Logan doesn’t shoot your comments down like you expect. Instead, he seems to consider your words, maybe he even silently accepts the compliment. “Think you have some things to say that could set a nice example, too.”

“Maybe next time.”

During the comfortable silence that follows, you’re reminded of something you’ve been considering for weeks now. You hadn’t paid much attention to it since that night, but as you worked through the feelings that got you to that point, the question kept coming back.

“I’ve been wondering something,” you begin. “The night we met... What were you doing at the lookout?”

Logan glances at you, contemplating the question. “When I had just, um, gotten here, it wasn’t always easy to adjust, you know? So I went to all these places that I knew from back there, to ground myself, to see that things may be different, but that they’re not that different.”

“You went there on your side?”

He hums.

“By yourself?”

He hums again.

“Did you…” You hesitate to finish your sentence, both because you’re not sure if you have any right to ask and because you’ve reached your building. You stop walking, and Logan follows your lead.

“No, no, no, I… I can’t explain it, it’s just one of those places I was always drawn to,” Logan says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans with a shrug. His brows furrow suddenly, his mind seemingly lost in something before his eyes flick back to yours. “Think it took me coming over here to find reason in it.”

It’s a thought that’s equal parts sad and lovely.

The silence that follows hangs between you, thick with something you can’t place, but Logan doesn’t look away from you, eyes scanning your face before they land back on yours. You can’t help thinking that maybe this is how he does it, and the question comes out before you can help it,

“Is mind reading part of the X-Gene thing?”

His eyes widen – amusement or surprise, you can’t say. “It can be.”

“Can you do it?”

“No,” he says. “And it’s for the best, fucking hurts when you can’t control it.” Then the start of a smile begins to form on his lips. “‘sides, I don’t know if I would have a lot of… consideration for people’s boundaries.”

It makes you chuckle. “Right. Not to mention some minds are probably a lot – imagine reading Wade’s mind.”

“Hurts to even imagine,” Logan says, gesturing for you to be quiet as he winces, but a smile breaks through anyway. When your shared laughter dies down, he jerks his chin at the building behind you, “This your place?”

“Wha–?” Going home long forgotten in the moment, you glance over your shoulder. “Oh! Yes.”

“All right,” he nods. “See you next week?”

“Definitely,” you reply.

“Oh,” Logan says right before you turn around. “Bring coffee? You owe me.”

You make a face at him. “You don’t have to– I’ll get you something else, I know you don’t like it.”

“I like it when I drink it with you.”

It’s incredibly hard to hide your grin. “Okay, I’ll bring coffee. See you next week, Logan.”

“See you.”

He lingers, watching you climb the steps, waiting until the door opens after you turn your key in the lock. It’s not until you close the door, when you can only make out his silhouette through the patterned glass window in it, that he walks off.

THE SUMMER

Walking back from a very successful job interview, you find yourself on your way to your friends with a big, plastic bottle of coke under your arm. It’s a warm feeling to know that you’ll soon have a job that suits you and that you have people to celebrate with; you look forward to seeing them and sharing this with them.

You’re invited inside with open arms, tight hugs, exclaimed praise and congratulations, and it makes you giddy, a feeling so foreign that you wish you could bottle it up right this instant. With a grin, you shake the Coca Cola bottle, before twisting the cap off. You let out an excited shout as you watch the foam shoot out from the top, bubbles and dark liquid pulsing down the neck of the bottle as cheers surround you.

It’s not champagne, but Althea grumbles about the soda ruining her floors, Wade gets mismatched glasses from the cupboard, and Logan clinks his glass to yours and tells you he’s proud of you.

It’s way better than champagne.

– – – – –

You’re in serious, desperate need of a new place…

The August heat is relentless, and the entire building’s AC isn’t working. It’s with considerable effort that you manage to make your way to your friends’ place, the promise of a constant, cold stream of wind the only thing that keeps you going. But when the front door opens, it isn’t with the welcoming, cool waft of air you were hoping for. Instead, there’s no temperature change, only Wade in his underwear.

“No.” It’s a little embarrassing how you literally pout, but these are desperate times. “Here, too?”

“If it wasn’t this fucking hot I’d be offended by that greeting.” He sighs. “Come in.”

Slightly defeated, you shuffle past the threshold, while Wade lingers. Mary Puppins trots by, an ice-pack wrapped in a towel secured on her back, and you catch a glimpse of Logan exiting the bedroom. He’s in black shorts and a ribbed, sleeveless shirt, and with a desperate groan, he lets himself fall back into the recliner in the living room.

“Tried everything, there’s no fixing that fucking thing.”

Wade makes a face, “Listen, I know what you’re thinking: Wade’s in his underwear, Logan’s emerging from the bedroom… But we didn’t fuck, it’s not that kind of st–”

“Who are you talking to?” you ask from behind him, glancing over his shoulder into the empty hallway.

“No one–You!” The door closes with a bang.

Confused, you walk further into the apartment. “Well, telling me you didn’t is just going to make me think that you did.” Wade darts past you and takes a seat on the couch, but you hang back and lean against the kitchen table to avoid sitting on leather.

Wade suddenly turns to face you. “Did I ever tell you about our time in The Void?”

“Wade,” Logan warns.

Wade’s eyes are sparkling with mischief and you can’t deny how fun it is to indulge the way he pushes Logan’s buttons. It’s a good distraction from how you’re drenched in sweat. And you’re actually curious.

You play your part, letting out a faux-scandalised gasp. “Did you..?”

“Oh, yeah, baby. Wolverine goes both ways. All the ways, really.” He grins. “We’re so alike.”

“Shut up. Both of you.” Logan groans, lacking any real threat as he adjusts in his seat and wipes some sweat off his brow. “It’s too fucking hot to be annoyed.”

It isn’t lost on you he doesn’t deny a thing.

– – – – –

Apartments look weird with nothing in them.

It’s what crossed your mind after you finished packing up your place three days ago, and it crosses your mind now as you look into the open space of your new one from the doorway. It’s a pleasant, late summer day; perfect weather to move, which was on your schedule for today.

“Incoming!” comes from behind you, followed by quick, heavy steps.

You jump aside as Ellie sails through the door, carefully setting a big box marked “Kitchen” down in its designated area, followed by Logan who is balancing three boxes at once. After a beat, Yukio follows, holding a single table lamp in her hand. It takes some effort not to laugh, not just because of how funny it looks, but also because you relate; after all the exhausting late nights you pulled packing up, that’s also the kind of energy you’re bringing to this.

It’s nice of them to help, and instead of shoving that feeling away in fear, you allow yourself to bask in it. You don’t get long, however, because more help has just arrived.

Wade. With Vanessa. Hands interlocked.

It draws everyone’s eyes to the doorway. Wade looks almost bashful, and it baffles you how someone who can say the most insane things unprompted, all without batting an eye, could blush while holding hands with a girl he likes. To his credit, he shakes it off quickly.

“All right, all right,” he says. “Stop ogling me and my girlfriend and get back to work everyone!”

– – – – –

“So it was like an experiment?” you ask, stirring the pot on your stove before taking a careful bite of food off your wooden spoon.

Tonight’s your first night hosting at your new place – Family Dinner, Wade had dubbed it. With fall setting in, you had an idea of what to make, but it still made you nervous to have everyone in your space. Logan saw right through you, offering to come over early to help you prepare.

Once he had arrived, it hadn’t taken long for him to admit he wasn’t much of a cook, so he mainly chopped vegetables as you chatted; you about your new place, Logan about his new job as a boxing instructor, Laura going off to college. You don’t remember exactly how the subject of his adamantium came up, but he was telling you freely about it.

“They needed someone who could regenerate fast enough to bond with it,” he explains. “I was in a dark place. Figured I didn’t have anything to lose if it didn’t work.”

You nod in understanding. “Do you… remember much about it?” You put your spoon down, then put the lid back on the pan.

Logan’s knife stops hitting the cutting board. “Yeah, I… I remember every second of it.”

You look at him then. His eyes are still cast down at his task. Unsure of what to say, you think about what you’d want to hear, and you find it might be best to say nothing at all. Instead, your hand finds his shoulder. Logan’s head turns to you, and you feel like the look you share is more important than anything you could’ve told him. His hand covers yours with an appreciative squeeze.

“But I’m trying to leave that there so I can focus on remembering what happens to me here.” As soon as he’s said it, his hand quickly slips off yours, adding, in a rush, “Here in this timeline, I mean.”

You smile at him, but a strange feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. “That sounds like a great idea.”

– – – – –

“I need your help with something,” you say, balancing your phone between your ear and your shoulder while you turn a birthday card over in your hand. Deciding you don’t like it, you throw it back on the pile of cards and continue your grocery shopping.

“Just say the word,” comes Logan’s reply from the other end.

“I need you to steal something out of the apartment for me.” There’s a silence, and you purposely let the feeling of trepidation linger.

“Am gonna need you to say a little more than just that.”

You laugh, “Wade’s been talking about getting a little frame for his polaroid. You know, the polaroid that you held on to for him in The Void, after the two of you fu–”

“Yes, I know the one,” he interjects with a huff. He pauses, sighs, then says, “Consider it done.”

THE PARTY

“There you are!” Wade shouts after he opens the door. He pulls you into a hug that you return with a wide smile. Over his shoulder, you see that the apartment’s crowded, bustling with people who are there for his birthday party.

“I got you something,” you say, offering the small package to him after you step inside and hang up your coat.

“Wouldn’t have let you in if you hadn’t,” he admits as he closes the door behind you with a bang. Wade takes the package from your hand, shaking it next to his ear but hearing it make no sound in response. “Is it a cock ring?”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “Unfortunately, they were all sold out.”

“They always are,” he says, making a disappointed face. Bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you watch as he tears at the wrapping paper to reveal his gift. He makes another face when he sees it. “Well, now I feel like an asshole. This is really nice.”

“Logan helped me kidnap it,” you explain, pointing at the picture. “And the little red hearts on the frame, well, they’re your color, but they also reminded me of how much you care about people.”

When he looks at you after, it’s with genuine emotion… but Wade is Wade. “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m kind of happy you walked in here barfing up the place.”

A strange mix of embarrassment and gratitude claws its way up your neck. “Thank you.”

“We should take a new one,” he decides suddenly, pointing at the picture. “You both should be in it.” His head turns, watching as Logan approaches the two of you. “But let’s be realistic, his shoulders are so broad he wouldn’t even fit in the frame, much less his bul–”

“Stop talking about my dick, Wade,” Logan snaps.

“I was saying only good things! Jeez, so sensitive…” Wade turns, putting the picture on the kitchen table behind him where it joins all the other gifts.

“Did he like it?” Logan asks, voice low.

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Good,” he replies. “Was a nice idea.”

You eye all the other gifts, some clearer who they are from than others. “What did you get him?”

The corner of Logan’s mouth lifts as he points at a roll of silver duct tape with a small red bow on top, making you fix them both with a confused look.

“It’s an inside joke,” Logan shrugs.

Wade’s eyes sparkle, but in a rare turn of events, he doesn’t elaborate, only adds, “It’s classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.”

“And I have top level clearance, lieutenant,” you reply. You exhale through your nose in an amused laugh when Wade makes a surprised face that indicates you’ve gotten the reference. “What, you thought a Tom Cruise impression could save you?”

“No,” he grins, and as if on cue, the doorbell rings, “but that can. Birthday Boy duty calls, but I want it on record that I could do Top Gun, easily, while Tom would never be able to pull off Deadpool.”

– – – – –

The party settles into something comfortable, soft music in the background of lively chatter. Yukio has just finished telling you about a Professor Layton cosplay she’s doing when you excuse yourself, both your glass and your social battery empty enough to look for a momentary out. Finding your way through the crowd, you make it to the kitchen, filling your glass with water and taking a few sips.

While you do, the music suddenly gets louder, taking over for the steady chatter. You turn around, leaning back against the kitchen counter, and watch as Wade drags Vanessa to the middle of the apartment. People make room for them, exchanging looks while Wade wraps his arm around her waist, takes her hand in his and begins dancing with her. With a laugh, she slaps him on the chest, before settling into his embrace anyway. Some follow their lead, but your eyes stay glued to them. Wade spins Vanessa under his arm, the smile on her face bright enough to light up the entire room. In return, he looks at her with so much adoration he’s almost glowing himself. It fills you with warmth to see the both of them so happy.

It hits you how you haven’t thought about this in a while. You’d decided long ago that the future wasn’t something you had to worry about, but suddenly you’ve arrived, like you’re in some alternate reality where your future is now, and that it would be nice to share it with someone. The sting behind your eyes catches you a little off guard; mixed feelings of time that has been taken from you, but also of time you’re getting back with the life you now have.

For a while now, you’ve suspected the thing inside you is gone, that there isn’t much to feed off of anymore. If it is, it would make sense that there’s room for something else.

Wade and Vanessa make it look easy, even though you know it’s been far from easy for them. You suppose that’s what it’s like, especially as you get older. It’s less about big gestures, more about small ones; someone to make you laugh, to spin you under their arm, who knows how to apologize, seeks you out during your quiet moments–

“Do you dance?”

You startle, head turning towards the voice next to you–

“Logan,” you breathe.

It’s like you’re seeing him for the very first time. He’s standing so close, almost touching you but not quite, heat radiating off of him nonetheless. The plaid shirt he’s wearing isn’t even buttoned and still the fabric is pulled taunt over his shoulders and the thick of his biceps. He’s grinning, his nose pulled up in an adorable scrunch, the corner of his eyes crinkling - you never noticed before, but there’s a hint of green between the hazel.

It hits you so suddenly that you have to grab the counter to keep your balance. Everything that’s been happening, that you’ve been feeling, all the times something happened between the two of you that you couldn’t put your finger on… it falls into place with a well-timed, completely unrelated question and a glance at him.

You like him.

All you can do is blink at him, dazed, unable to speak, even more so when he leans in a little closer, mistaking your silence for misunderstanding. “I mean, not that I– You and Wade were doing a bit earlier, it’s a reference to–” Logan straightens suddenly, his expression slipping into concern as he watches you, “Are you okay?”

You feel warm, so aware of all his attention on you that you’re afraid he might be able to see your pulse blink rapidly below the angle of your jaw. “Yeah,” you reply, voice hoarse, looking away from him to blink the leftover wetness from earlier out of your eyes.

Anxiety claws its way into your chest, your mind coming to terms with what it’s puzzled together at such a sickening pace that there’s an immediate knot in your stomach. The party has instantly lost its shine, and you look down at the glass in your hand, gulping down its contents. You need to be alone with your thoughts, you need to think about this before–

“I gotta go,” you say in such a rush that it almost sounds like one word while you set your glass on the kitchen counter.

Logan’s eyes follow you as you push past him, grab your coat and reach for the doorknob. “Wait–”

“Bye, Logan.”

THE TABLE

Once at home, you change into something more comfortable, your mind racing while you peel your party clothes off, toss your bra aside, change into an oversized shirt and plop down on the couch after.

Despite having already established that your mind was occupied with other things for a very long time, it’s laughable in hindsight that you never noticed your feelings before. It’s not like you don’t know what Logan’s like; he’s kind, funny, supportive…

…broad, handsome.

Shit.

Why did you have to come to your senses? Things were better before that moment. Logan’s your friend, whom you met in the most unconventional way possible. It’s ridiculous to want more than what you have when what you have is good. Or to think that he would want more.

But he might.

Because you may have been occupied with depression, anxiety, recovery, and everything in between, but you were there; you remember the time you spent with him, the way he looks at you, drinks the coffee you like, laughs at your jokes, seems to know exactly when to call you, seeks you out in a crowd.

But it would change everyth–

Actually, not a whole lot would change, if you really think about it. You already see him all the time, you’ve seen the very worst of each other, overcome a great deal of hardship together, you make each other better, his friends are your…

friends.

You didn’t say goodbye to Wade.

The thought comes suddenly. It was his birthday party and you didn’t even say goodbye to him before you left. You’re a terrible friend. Dread sinks into your limbs, and you reach for your phone to type out a quick, apologetic message. Just as you hit send, there’s a series of loud knocks on the door, and it makes you freeze up where you’re seated.

“Are you in there?” a muffled voice calls out.

It’s Logan, you realize, and a plethora of fake excuses as to why you left the party early present themselves to your mind as you quickly make your way over to the door.

The first thing you notice when you open it is that he’s dripping wet from the rain, clothes soaked through and his hair flat. There’s a deep furrow in his brow, and it’s different from how he usually looks; he looks actually mad.

“Logan, is everything–” you begin, concerned, but he cuts you off by pushing past you and letting himself inside, boots stomping against the wooden floor.

“Jesus, here you are. Why’d you leave like that, huh? Saying goodbye, your eyes all wet. I went after you and you were fucking gone, it scared the shit out of me. Didn’t see the car at the lookout, but I went to look for you anyway, and you weren’t in the water, thank fuck–”

“Wait, you went–” you pause, the mental image of Logan running out into the rain to the cliffside making your eyes widen. “Did you think..?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, shoulders slumping.

“Shit.” Your heart is racing when you step closer to him. “No, I wasn’t… I don’t want that anymore.”

“Then what the fuck was that all about?”

The desperation and misunderstanding in his eyes is unmistakable, and you hate that you made him feel like that. “I was just… I needed a moment, after seeing Wade and Vanessa like that,” you say, trying to provide yourself with more time to think, unsure if you already want to broach the subject of why you really left.

“You… like Wade?” Logan asks, his frown deepening.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you at the unexpected question. “No. I mean, I adore Wade, but not like that. He’s with Vanessa.”

The answer does nothing to change his expression. “And you want it to be different?”

His line of questioning confuses you. “I– No. Logan, this isn’t about Wade or Vanessa, but it’s about… what they have. Something that’s real, but imperfect, and that’s what actually makes it perfect, and I just… I was in a really bad place for such a long time, I didn’t give myself time to even think about… I haven’t felt myself wanting for so long,” your gaze flicks up to his. “Seeing them just made me realize there’s so much left that I still want.”

Internally, you curse the way he always makes you say too much, because you can see the understanding wash over his features. His expression softens, the balled fists by his side loosen, and his eyes search you, as if to see if that thing you want is him. There’s no doubt he finds his answer; you’re ever the open book when it comes to him, and your pulse quickens while he silently observes you.

Logan reaches for you so quickly that you can barely prepare for it, a hand on your waist to pull you in, another on your cheek to tip your face up and guide your mouth to his. A shaky breath sails out through your nose when your lips meet, your eyes fluttering shut and your palms sliding up his damp but warm chest to curl in the soaked fabric of his shirt. It’s eager, and the angle is off, but it’s quickly adjusted with a brief parting and a near in-sync tilt of your heads in the other direction.

Logan pulls away, but stays close, and you almost feel his words before hearing them, “Been… thinking about doing that.”

“Really?” you say, breathless and amused. “When did you, um, start wanting to do that?”

“Few weeks ago–Fuck, no, more than that. Almost did, that day after your first meeting, after you told me you were proud of me,” he admits. “But I wanted to give you time, space. Wasn’t sure if you felt–”

“I do. Didn’t realize it before, but I fucking do,” you assure him, another tug on his collar trying to pull him back to you. His admissions, knowing he wants you too, only make you want him more, like you have to make up for all the time you wasted not doing this sooner.

Logan’s hand on your waist holds you off. “I just don’t know how to… how to be this,” he confesses softly.

“That’s okay,” you say, your nose brushing against his. “I don’t either.”

He inches forward like he intends to kiss you again, but seems to reconsider, swallowing hard before saying, “Wouldn’t be the first time we figure it out together, huh?”

The words make you surge forward to close the gap between you, your brows creasing, attempting to convey everything you feel with one press of your lips to his. Logan’s hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you to him in a way that seems to mirror your efforts. Something lights up inside you, something you lost long ago, and it makes you bold, opening your mouth under his to get a taste of him.

His grip on you tightens with a groan, spurring him into action and walking you backwards into the dark kitchen, the only illumination the slivers of moonlight that come through the kitchen window. You jolt when the back of your thighs hit the table, before you’re scrambling to get on top of it, two hands at your waist helping to hoist you up. Your thighs widen to make room for Logan’s while you push the green flannel shirt off his shoulders, struggling to peel it off his arms to the point you have to break away with a laugh to really get it right. It lands on the floor with a wet sound, before he reaches for the back of his shirt, curling his fingers around the collar and pulling it over his head.

Logan’s sturdy, warm to the touch and surprisingly pliant when you can’t help but let your fingers flit along the corded muscles and protruding veins while he toes off his shoes. His hand flies to the back of your head to fist the hair at the nape of your neck when your lips explore, find his jaw, and travel down his neck. A soft sound sails from his mouth, a barely audible moan that carries over into something deeper when your lips brush a spot just above his clavicle. Using the grip he has on you, he drags you back up to his mouth, doing some more of his own exploring when his warm tongue strokes against your own.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs with a buck of his hips against yours. The thrill of having him pushed up against you, half-hard, warm, full of promise, makes you moan, teeth clacking against his when you do. “Always so fucking good to me.”

It makes you want to protest, from the very moment you met, he’s the one always being that to you, but it dies on your tongue when Logan’s flicks over the tips of his fingers. His impatient hand finds its way between you, disappearing under the waistband of your underwear and stretching the material to make room. His name comes out as a whimper when his spit-slick fingers easily glide through the soft skin between your legs. He curses, another buck of his hips pressing his hand closer against you, and your kiss turns messy and uncoordinated when he dips one finger to touch your clit.

“This okay?” Logan asks when you gasp, drawing languid circles between your legs.

“Yeah, it’s just– Oh, god.” Two thick fingers find your entrance, swirling the wetness there around. “Been a while,” you manage to finish your sentence.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he promises. “You want that?”

All you can do is nod, and Logan presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulls his hand back. It’s paired with a wet sound that makes your cheeks heat, more so when you watch him get on his knees and yank you to the edge of the table, the quick turn of events and the casual display of his strength making you a little dizzy. Logan’s nose presses into the fabric between your legs with a sharp inhale, before quick, practiced moves work your underwear down your legs. One eager hand places a thigh on his shoulder as another holds you at the bend of your knee. You lie back, arching as you hurriedly pull your t-shirt over your head, leaning up on your elbows just in time to watch him bend down.

The feeling of Logan’s hot breath sailing out over your sensitive skin alone is enough to make you gasp. He drags his lips and nose across your folds, easing you into it as much as his lack of patience will allow before tasting you with a swipe of his tongue. It isn’t tentative or testing, but firm and sure, and clearly for his enjoyment as much as yours when he repeats his action and groans into you. The vibrations of it and the gentle scratch of his facial hair only add to the liquid feeling in the pit of your stomach. Letting go of your knee, he curls a strong arm around your thigh, spreading you open then pulling you flush against him while he sucks your clit into his mouth.

“Oh, that feels really good,” you spur him on, your heel digging in between his shoulder blades. You watch him with hooded eyes, shifting your weight to one elbow so you can cup your breast with a whine.

Logan’s eyes slip shut in focus, working his tongue up and down your clit and making you arch into his mouth. Reaching for you blindly, he slides a hand over yours on your chest, fingers fitting between your own and squeezing while his tongue slides lower to lick over where you’re dripping for him. He lets out an appreciative hum as he repeats the move until your thighs clench and shake around his ears. His tongue dips inside you, curling up against the slick walls of your cunt, and his name tumbles from your mouth, soft, pleading, making his eyes shoot open to meet yours.

The sight of him looking up at you like that from between your thighs, with dark eyes, the tip of his nose glistening with your wetness, will probably haunt you for the rest of your life.

Logan shushes your begging, pulling away and watching as your pussy clenches at the sudden lack of attention. “Let me give you something to come on,” he murmurs, before fitting a finger at your entrance. It meets absolutely no resistance, a second finger sliding inside with just as much ease, and he sets a steady, deep rhythm before his mouth returns to your clit.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck–” Your head rolls back between your shoulder blades, mouth open on a silent gasp, but he draws your attention back to him with a curl of his fingers, finding a spot that makes you go rigid for a second. It all builds so fast, so suddenly. The hand on your chest shakes Logan’s off, finding the crown of his head and sliding your fingers into his hair. He’s too strong to really make purchase, but you try anyway, using your grip to roll your hips against him. The sound of his groans, every flick of his tongue and every squelching, delicious curl of his fingers all send you closer and closer, until his hand presses down on your belly, and…

“Logan,” you manage, voice sharp with a warning that comes too late when he makes you tumble over the edge.

It’s so much after so long, the force of it making you fall back against the table, something between a gasp and a shout tearing from your throat. He holds you tighter, to keep you in place and guide the desperate roll of your hips against his face. Your orgasm quickly slips into something bordering on oversensitivity, and you let out a dry sob that makes you slap a hand over your mouth when Logan’s tongue travels a path from where his stilled fingers disappear inside you, up to your clit. He stays there, gentle, uncharacteristically patient as you slowly come to a twitching halt.

He’s a blur when he comes back into your field of view after standing up, towering over you to watch as you come back down to earth. Becoming sharper with every heavy blink of your eyes, you notice the smile on his face is smug, that the hair surrounding it is a shade darker than the rest. You sigh softly when his fingers slip from you, the feeling of them sliding wetly over your clit making you tremble, but his touch doesn’t leave you completely when he moves to stroke the outside of your thigh.

“How’s that?” Logan dares to ask.

“Hmm, no speaking yet,” you protest.

Reaching for him, you slide both of your arms up over his broad shoulders, wrists crossed in the nape of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. It’s slow, and deep, the taste of yourself shared between the two of you as your tongue slides over his. The table protests with a creak when his hands land beside your head, more when his chest pushes down on yours and you wrap a leg around his waist to get him even closer. The hair scattered across his broad chest teases your nipples and the hard ridge of his cock strains against his jeans and presses up against your slick cunt. It makes your jaw go slack, stoking your desire and making you burn with the need to make him feel as good as he just made you feel.

With a push against his shoulders, you take him along as you sit upright again, accompanied by another creak of the table. Mouth still on his, you slide a hand down to cup him over his jeans, the weight of him against your wide open palm making you pulse. Logan grunts when your hand squeezes, and your mouth slides off his, kissing his jaw, sliding back down his neck. He cups your head, keeping you in place while watching your hand.

“Feels nice,” he husks, voice so deep it makes you want to push him aside and get on your knees for him, but then he asks, “Are you gonna let me fuck you?”

“God, yeah,” you say with a nod, watching as the mark you just sucked into his neck disappears far too soon while you continue rubbing him over the denim. “Want you inside of me.”

“Jesus–Then get it out,” he instructs, guiding your hand to his belt.

If you weren’t so turned on you might wince at how eager you are, at how quickly you tug the buckle open and pull the leather free. Logan groans when it relieves some of the pressure, letting his forehead rest against yours. Together, you watch your hands make quick work of his zipper, your fist closing around his cock while your other hand works his pants down until he can kick it off and under the table.

He fits nicely in your palm, heavy and ready, sticky at the tip. With a purse of your lips, you let your spit trickle down in a straight line, and he hisses when it hits him. Your free hand flattens against his stomach, sliding down along the hard planes of his body and following the vein just below his belly button down, until it meets your other hand that loosely strokes up to the root of his cock. Logan arches into you when you stroke back up with a tighter grip, all but getting on his toes to chase your touch. Using both of your hands to get all of him, you twist your fists in opposite directions once, twice, before circling his tip with one thumb. Your other hand curls around the underside of him, dragging some of your spit down to his balls with the tips of your fingers.

“F–fuck,” Logan stutters when you play with him there, cupping him in your hand as well as you can and squeezing his shaft when it twitches in response. His eyes slip shut as his palms land on the outside of your thighs with a smack, fingertips digging into your soft skin.

It makes you jolt, then grin, giddy from the sharp sting and the power you have over his pleasure. “How’s that?” you echo with a teasing lilt.

He does have the words to answer, albeit a little slurred, “‘S good, sweetheart.”

The nickname tacked on at the end takes root in your chest, blooms bright and makes you ache. You translate your appreciation into tightening your strokes and spreading more of the precome that steadily leaks from his tip around.

“C’mere,” Logan says softly, taking over for you with one hand, giving himself a few strokes before pushing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer to line himself up with you.

You’re so wet that the head of his cock is practically already slipping inside of you, but your hand clasps around his bicep when he really starts to breach you. After giving you a shallow little thrust, his hips draw back, before pushing a little further, gauging your reaction.

“Just like that,” you sigh, watching the careful slide of him in and out of you. “Keep going just like that.”

He gets you opened up like that, giving you a little more with each wind of his hips. Logan’s hand finds the back of your neck, his palm splaying out and keeping you close enough that you’re practically sharing air with each sigh and moan. Eventually, your knees have to draw up to his flanks in order for him to keep going and you wind a leg around his hip to close the final distance with a press of your heel into one of the firm cheeks of his ass. A long breath sails out from between your lips when you pulse around him, slowly adjusting to having all of him filling you up. You can tell he has to put considerable effort into letting you, wood groaning below you when he clutches onto the table.

“Fuck, it’s a lot,” you say, and when he grins against your mouth you can’t help but kiss him again – just a peck. The hand at the back of your neck squeezes in reassurance as he continues to let you lead, and it’s a small gesture, but it makes you feel warm all over. You melt into it his touch, your body relaxing as the pleasure of the stretch of him takes over.

“Can stay like this a little longer if you want,” he says, but the strain in his voice says something different.

“Hmm, no, you can move.” You’ve barely said it, or his hips are drawing back, and it would have made you laugh if it didn’t feel so fucking incredible. He almost slips from you completely, before sliding all the way back inside with a grunt. The table scrapes along the floor, and vaguely you register one of your chairs falling over in the process. When he repeats the action, the furniture squeaks again below you. “Just don’t break my table.”

The sound he makes in response is non-commital, and when he fucks back into you and nudges against something wonderful, you can’t say you disagree. Grabbing hold of his shoulder and using the leg you have wrapped around him, you roll your hips against his, and he begins to meet you halfway until you work up a rhythm together. The table protest further, a shrill sound filling the room after each slap of skin–

With a frustrated groan and accompanied by a startled squeal from yourself, Logan lifts you. The surprised laugh that threatens to bubble up your throat quickly morphs into something heavier that comes out with a rasp when he makes it all look unusually effortless. Attempting to brace yourself, you sling one arm over his shoulders, the other winding around his neck so you can rake your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. It’s a struggle to keep your balance, a helpless heel digging into the back of his thigh to keep yourself upright. Quick to aid, Logan slides an arm under you, fingers splayed across your ass as your knee hangs off the inside of his elbow. He turns a quarter, presses you up against the wall, and doesn’t miss a beat as he continues fucking you.

“Jesus, Logan,” you say, voice almost a growl and barely recognizable as your own.

With your new position, you can see him better, the both of you lit from the side with the window to your left. The moonlight paints him in a tapestry of light and shadows when the wind blows through the tree branches, momentarily amplifying the glint in his eyes and the flex of his chest and arms like a strobe light.

The different angle he finds with his cock is a little too good, the feeling of the thick base of him stretching you open with each thrust making you dazed and talkative, “It’s so deep like this, can–oh, my god–can feel you everywhere.”

Logan curses at your words, squeezing your waist and pushing you harder against the wall. There’s a deep-voiced appreciation of how good you feel in there too that doesn’t quite make it from your ears to your brain because somehow he’s still speeding up. His head ducks down to your chest, mouthing at the soft skin of your breast before closing his lips around a nipple.

You whine, using the grip you have on him to roll your hips against the piston of his while you pant into his crown. Though the sound he makes against you when you do it makes you beam with pride, it’s not something you can keep up for very long, your hold on him slacking after a few thrust until you slip back against the wall.

Logan pulls back when you do, tightening his hold on you while his eyes glide from the bounce of your tits that glisten with his spit to down between your bodies.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs, grunting when you immediately do as he says by bringing a hand down between where you’re joined. Your fingers spread in a V-shape around where he fucks into you, collecting some of your mixed arousal before using it to rub your clit. “That’s it, sweetheart, fuck, make yourself come.”

You nod, rapidly feeling everything zeroing in on the fingers that draw tight circles over your clit and that spot deep inside you that Logan’s finding with every thrust. “Yeah, fuck, I’m–Don’t stop, don’t stop, please–”

He’s coming before you are, tucking his head below your chin to let out a deep, drawn out moan against your neck that ends with his teeth grazing your skin. It’s so much, the pressure of him grinding himself into you with twitching, barely there thrusts, the heat of his release as it fills you where you’re gripping him like a vice, and as your fingers still twirl between your legs you come, and come, and come.

The leg you have wrapped around his hip slips off, but before your toes can even scrape the floor, he catches your thigh, cupping your ass with both hands now to keep you up, and close. With a soft, satisfied sound, you let your forehead fall against Logan’s shoulder, tasting the salt of his sweat with every light press of your lips there.

It takes you a moment to notice your back has come off the wall, that Logan is walking the both of you into your living room and to the couch. He bends his knees, dropping you between your pillows, where you land with as much grace as you can muster considering you feel like you’re made of lead. The soft couch is pleasant against your body, your sore limbs sinking into the cushions.

Logan fits himself between your legs again, widening them around his broad shoulders before his lips find your overstretched thighs, leaving marks and kisses up up up, until his tongue slips back into your pussy. Your back arches off the couch, hands shooting down to fist his hair with a whine while Logan’s hand fists his cock. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can tell he’s already getting hard again, and his tongue is making something swirl low in your belly that’s making you pant, and...

It’ll be a long night.

THE PEARL

It had taken a lot of convincing and downright groveling, but Wade had allowed you to bring a movie for movie night. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust your taste in movies, his main gripe with your choice was that it wasn’t a Christmas movie – mandatory for December. Wade’s right, but after you explained that it’s the movie you always watch at the end of the year (and after Logan and yourself conceded that yes, his birthday was technically also your anniversary) he’d agreed.

Now that you’re actually watching it, you suspect he’s genuinely invested, because after a handful of comments about The Hulk, he’s been quiet for longer than you’ve ever heard him be quiet.

In the scene on the screen, Mark Ruffalo’s character Dan and Keira Knightley’s character Gretta are taking an evening walk around New York City, dancing, singing and sharing music with each other as they do. Eventually, they stop and sit next to each other on some steps, watching as the city continues to move without them.

“...the most banal scenes are suddenly invested with so much meaning, ya know? All these banalities, they're suddenly turned into these… these beautiful, effervescent pearls,” Dan says, wistfully looking on as New York bustles around him. “I gotta say, as I've gotten older these pearls are just… becoming increasingly more and more rare to me.”

The arm Logan has slung around your shoulder tightens, and the couch creaks softly as you lean further into his side, your cheek squishing against his warm chest.

“More string than pearls?” Gretta inquires with a frown.

“Yeah. You got to travel over a lot more string to get to the pearls.” There’s a pause as he turns to look at her, “This moment is a pearl, Gretta.”

She gives him a hint of a smile. “It sort of is, isn't it?”

“All this has been a pearl,” he admits, sharing a look with her.

A finger curls under your chin, tipping your head up until your eyes meet Logan’s. He gives you the same look you just saw on the screen, his eyes soft as they take you in, the hint of green between the hazel illuminated by the light of the television. A thumb swipes over your bottom lip fondly, before he leans down to kiss you.

It takes a lot of string indeed.

Sometimes even interdimensional string.

– – – – –

(THE END)

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