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prythianpages · 3 months ago

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Hopelessly Devoted | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader x Azriel | You're hopelessly devoted to Azriel, suspecting he’s your true love. Meanwhile, Eris is hopelessly longing after you. aka Eris being your mate but you're too infatuated with Az to notice.

warnings: slight angst, reader being a bit delulu

*also disclaimer that I am no expert in astrology and my knowledge is usually what I gathered from friends or tiktok so if I'm wrong, please correct me but do it nicely pls bc I am sensitive lol*

a/n: I wasn't sure whether to include Az or not in the pairing but I liked the idea of leaving this fic up to your interpretation. Anyway, happy reading! <3

As you entered the Night Court’s observatory, you traced your fingers along the edge of the great celestial map laid before you. You could feel the soft hum of magic beneath your fingertips, still smell the faintest hint of sage–a remnant of your father’s last ritual here. For centuries, your father has served as the Night Court’s astrologer. He’s guided and advised High Lord Rhysand and on occasion, Keir, the steward of the Court of Nightmares.

Above you, constellations and planets danced across the domed ceiling, the stars gleaming as though they were ready to whisper secrets just for you. You took a deep breath, centering yourself, and placed a palm flat against the massive zodiac wheel etched onto the floor. It began to glow, a warm golden light tracing symbols of the zodiacs and planets.

“Stars above and stars below, reveal the path I seek to know,” you quietly murmured.

The markings on the wheel shifted in response, aligning and realigning with clicking sounds, the warm golden light following. Then, your own chart had appeared, shimmering above you. It was a translucent web of stars and planets connected by silvery lines. You’ve read your birth chart many times, become so familiar with it that you knew it by heart even.

But tonight, you needed the extra reassurance. So you looked up, watching as the planets moved slowly. Your heartbeat a little faster as you spotted Jupiter making transit through your seventh house. The promise of growth, abundance, luck and most important of all, love filled the air.

You slipped a small vial from the hidden pocket of your cobalt blue dress. The words Love Potion No.9 gleamed on the glass, the dark red liquid swirling. It was the enchanted perfume you’d bought from a witch last week—a little love potion designed to make you irresistibly alluring to your soulmate.

You felt a bit foolish, seeking a witch for guidance on love of all matters. Witches were frowned upon in the Court of Nightmares, after all. But impatience had finally nudged you to venture beyond the court’s dark mountain and into the surrounding forests, in search of someone who could help.

“Seek the one who walks between light and shadow with a mask of cool indifference, where fire meets the edge of night. There your heart shall find its match,” she had told you as she handed you the enchanted perfume.

Her words had only confirmed what you had been suspecting for years, centuries even.

Azriel was your soulmate.

Azriel, the very embodiment of cool indifference, wore a mask of stoicism in the Court of Nightmares, just as High Lord Rhysand did. But his hazel eyes always seemed to burn with a hidden fire. And when you were alone with him, away from the cold nobility of the Night Court, Azriel would let that mask slip, revealing a kinder side that laughed and smiled with you. He was your friend and not only did he literally walk among shadows, he wielded them. It had to be him!

And then, there was your birth chart. Your seventh house lay in Taurus—a sign ruled by Venus. With Venus positioned in your twelfth house, everything pointed to the idea that your future soulmate would bring your happiness and pleasure. And since you met Azriel all those years ago during a counseling your father led, happiness had been an emotion you'd grown more familiar with.

The stars couldn’t have given you a clearer message!

There was a flutter in your stomach as you approached Azriel. The two of you had been stealing glances at one another, as you usually did anytime you found yourselves in the same place. He looked as beautiful as ever. As dreamy as ever.

Though your High Lord and High Lady had moved to the center of the ballroom for a dance, he had stayed by the dais. “Hello,” you greeted him with a small smile.

Azriel turned to you, that mask of his slipping for just a brief moment to smile back at you. He took the extra wine glass in your hold, murmuring a small thanks. He turned his head back to the dance floor, attentive to his High Lady’s whereabouts. But he shifted closer to you, the coolness of his shadows caressing your bare arm and you couldn’t help but wonder if the perfume was working.

“You look nice,” he commented.

“Thanks.” A blush rose to your cheeks. You’d taken care to match your dress to the exact shade of his siphons. And he noticed. “So do you.”

“I wear this all the time.” Azriel replied drily, referring to his usual Illyrian leathers.

“Yeah, I know.” You cursed yourself inwardly for the awkward response, then shifted closer, leaning toward him. “Do I smell to you?”

Azriel paused, his shadows brushing close, as if curious themselves. “No,” he said after a moment.

“Oh.” Disappointment seeped into your voice despite your best efforts, and his gaze shifted to you, a hint of a frown in his brows.

“Do you want to smell?”

There’s a teasing edge to his tone, a subtle quirk of his lips. You shook your head, letting out a small, nervous laugh. "No. I just wanted to know if I smelled any…different…,” and then, in a much quieter tone, you murmured, “to you.”

Azriel considered your words. He looked to you in what seemed like permission. You gave a nod of your head and he leaned in, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. “You smell the same to me.” At the breath you let out, he quickly added: “which is good by the way. You smell nice.”

“Oh, okay,” you smile, albeit a bit awkwardly, the flutter you had felt in your stomach earlier twisting into a knot.

“Y/n, is everything alright?” Azriel asked softly.

“Yeah, I just thought—” You stopped, not sure how to explain without sounding foolish. It wasn’t like you could admit to feeling disappointed over the lack of reaction from an enchanted perfume you’d spent quite a fortune on. Especially when he was the sole purpose for it. Had the witch scammed you?

Azriel waited for you patiently, concern flashing in his eyes. Maybe the perfume hadn’t worked, but the stars and planets had never led you astray. That still had to mean something, right?

“I’m fine.” You finally said.

“Are you sure?”

The way he was looking at you had warmth creeping up your neck and settling deeper in your cheeks. “Yeah.”

A single shadow curled around Azriel’s ear and in the blink of an eye, his head turned. Your gaze followed his, to where Rhysand and Feyre were standing. Rhysand sent him a slight nod and with a sigh, Azriel returned it.

“Sorry, I have to go.” Azriel said, quickly downing the remaining wine from his glass.

You held out your hand, offering to take it for him.

“Thank you. I’ll be back. Don’t have too much fun without me, alright?”

“I’ll try not to,” you replied.

You watched Azriel disappear into his shadows before turning away from the dais and making your way to the refreshments table. You were eager for a refill on your glass. Perhaps a little more wine would help ease the sting of disappointment. But he’d said he’d be back, hadn’t he?

As you scanned the room, you noticed your father in conversation with one of Keir’s sons and your mother eyeing potential suitors for your older brother. As an elite warrior of the Darkbringers, he had no shortage of admirers, and it was only a matter of time before your mother secured him a match—perfect or not.

You suspected you’d be next on her matchmaking list, so you busied yourself with small talk among familiar ladies. Conversations were always a mind-numbing, the ladies your age exchanging beauty tips that centered around the male’s eye or fawning over this season’s most eligible males. Which this season just so happens to be your brother. Gross. If only they knew him the way you did….

Second to him was Bret—or some equally uninspiring name. A Scorpio, of all things, which clashed miserably with your chart. Not that it mattered. You had no interest in any noble of the Court of Nightmares. Or any male here. Most, if not all, were cruel and narcissists, only viewing females as child bearers and nothing more.

There was a reason why this court was burdened with the title “Nightmares.” And to marry someone from here would mean never waking up from this darkness. No stars to light your night skies, only endless shadow and despair.

So, you’d taken fate into your own hands. You’d turned to your birth chart, hoping the stars would lead you somewhere beyond Hewn City, beyond this never-ending nightmare. And they had. They led you to believe it was Azriel. Azriel, who was not only honorable and single but also, technically, part of the Court of Dreams. He’d been your friend for centuries, seeing you for who you are rather than an object or prize like most males here.

As you sneak away from the conversation, you bump into something–someone. Behind you, a deep voice huffed a low, mocking chuckle. “Easy there, librarian.”

You could recognize that voice anywhere, could recognize the heat radiating from him. It pressed down on you, leaving you simmering with irritation.

“I’m a libra, not a librarian.” You bit out. It hasn’t even been a minute and already you were exhausted by the searing presence behind you. “And besides, to you, it’s Lady Y/N.”

When you turned, you found Eris looming over you. His amber eyes gleamed with a familiar, infuriating mischief. He gave you that signature smirk of his, the one that made his sharp features all the more arrogant. “Such a harsh tone. Hardly fitting for a Lady.”

Your gaze hardened into a glare, only to have it stray toward a movement across the ballroom. A flicker of shadow caught your attention, and your heart gave a small, hopeful jump as your gaze softened. There he was—Azriel.

He had returned to the ballroom…but he hadn’t returned to you…

Eris raised a glass to his lips, amber eyes flicking lazily between you and Azriel. “Disappointment doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not disappointed.” You muttered hastily.

He gave a scoff, his smirk widening with dark amusement. “Please. I can practically feel it.”

“Liar,” you shot back.

“Azriel said he’d find me again and unlike you, he’s a male of his word,” you continued, not sure why you were telling Eris this. “He’s…”

Your words trailed off as you watched Azriel, who stood next to Nesta and Elain. He laughed–actually laughed!-- at something Elain had said, shadows absent from his frame as his focus remained solely on her. You couldn’t miss the soft smile playing on his lips, nor the warmth in his gaze. Did he do that with every female he knew? You thought he reserved that just for you…

The bubble in your chest slowly deflated.

“Keep dreaming,” Eris huffed out. He seemed to take special pleasure in your reaction. It prompted your cheeks to flush but this time, with irritation.

“Oh, go away, you prick,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?" he replied, leaning closer, his sharp gaze burning into you. You missed the flash of longing in his amber eyes, too focused on Azriel. Or the way the words that had been on the tip of his tongue faltered as your scent suddenly overwhelmed him, his breath hitching slightly.

"You smell.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mumbled absently.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice gruff and pupils flaring. “You smell different tonight…good...”

You blinked, barely processing his words. Was he actually being nice to you? In all the years you’ve known him, he’s always had snark remark after snark remark for you. The way it would roll smoothly off his tongue always left you wondering if he’d rehearse them for his visits to the Court of Nightmares.

You fidgeted, fingers grazing your wine glass as you cast a hesitant glance back at Azriel. Your chest tightened as he remained engrossed in conversation with Elain. Turn around, please. But he hadn’t even looked your way once.

Eris stepped in front of you, drawing your attention back to him. His gaze roamed over you, your dress. He took in the shade and he knew why you had chosen it–and for whom. "You know," he said, his gaze lingering on your face. "Red suits you far better.”

“And there he is, you’re back…”

"I’m serious. This—" He gestured to your gown with a slight grimace, his fingers brushing the silk fabric in disappointment. "This color washes you out. Red would bring out the color of your eyes…”

Your jaw clenched but you remained silent, refusing to admit that his words stirred something within you. Eris was insufferable, arrogant, and yet you couldn't deny his eye for detail. He, after all, was always dressed impeccably in the finest Autumn attire. But you would never give him the satisfaction of admitting he might be right.

His smirk widened, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. “Do you want to know another thing?”

“No,” you said immediately.

But he leaned in anyway, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re hopelessly devoted to a male who doesn’t even look your way.”

Your mouth opened, brows furrowing in protest, but he went on. His smirk softened, fading into a half-smile. One that didn’t reach his eyes, dimming the fire that usually burned so brightly there. And then, in a much quieter, reluctant tone, he murmured, “And I am no different, it seems.”

"But…" You stammered, resisting the urge to steal another glance at Azriel. "He does look my way…sometimes.”

Eris’s smile faded, his expression tightening. A flicker of pain crossed his face. So brief, you almost thought you imagined it. "You’re delusional.”

“And you’re insufferable.” You scoffed, heart pounding.

“Better than being a fool.”

The mocking tone was there but the usual sharpness had been softened by a strange, subtle sadness. Was this… pity?

You swallowed, lifting your chin defiantly. “The stars wouldn’t lie to me,” you said, though the conviction in your voice wavered. “He’s the one for me.”`

You met his eyes then and Eris held your gaze. His amber eyes warm and molten, the intensity of his stare prickling at your skin. An unsettling flutter erupted in your stomach, rising to your chest. A feeling you quickly dismissed when you felt something cool brush against your arm.

“Is he bothering you, y/n?”

Eris scoffed at the sudden presence beside you. It sickened him to see that sweet, adoring look on your face, the triumphant gleam in your eyes as you looked up at Azriel. The sight made Eris grit his teeth. His instincts roared at him, the fire in his veins was scorching.

You blinked, snapping out of your daze, realizing both males were waiting for your answer. “No,” you said but the way you shifted to stand behind Azriel said otherwise.

Azriel’s gaze hardened as he looked toward Eris. “Stay away from her,” he seethed.

A low growl rumbled from Eris’s chest as he took a step forward, his amber eyes flaring with rage. Though not as tall as Azriel, he seemed to tower over him at this moment. His teeth flashed as his lips curled into a snarl. “I do not take orders from bastards like you.”

Azriel’s wings tensed, threatening to unfurl and the movement of his shadows quickened. Like a storm ready to unfold. But before it could, you placed a hand on his arm. Right over one of his glowing siphons that seemed to be growing hotter and hotter, daring to match the fire coursing through Eris’s veins.

“Az, don’t,” you told him gently, not wanting to draw any attention to the three of you. You felt his muscles ease under your touch, his shadows brushing over your hand in agreement.

Eris’s gaze dropped to your hand on Azriel’s arm, his expression darkening into something unreadable. He exhaled sharply, turning his head as though trying to shake off whatever thought had crossed his mind.

When he looked back, his features had shifted into his usual cool mask, that infuriating smirk sliding back into place. He looked right at you.

“When you wake up from this deranged dream of yours, come find me.”

You watched him, feeling a strange, unwelcome tug in your chest as he turned to leave. Perhaps, one day you’d realize that the enchanted perfume you had bought was not a scam.

And that the male you searched through the stars and planets for was not the one standing beside you, but the one who’d just walked away.

a/n: sorry if you're not a libra, I just thought it'd be funny for Eris to purposely say reader's sign wrong as he knows astrology is a huge influence on her.

[series masterlist]

[Eris masterlist]

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction

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misticxzs · 1 month ago

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Gloves and Bruises

Sypnosis : Who knew that while Studying late for your biology exam , you would be the one bandaging your boyfriends wounds late at night

Pairing ~ UndergroundBoxer!Sunghoon x Fem!reader

Genre ~ Fluff, established relationship , oneshot

warnings ~ mentions of blood, bruises,

Wc : 657 > 𝒞atalogue

You were on the verge of sleep when the frantic knocks on your dorm room door startled you awake. The clock on your nightstand blinked 1:47 am. Groaning, you pushed off your blanket, your mind foggy from studying all day.

“Who even…” you muttered, stumbling toward the door.

When you opened it, your breath caught.

“Sunghoon?” you gasped, eyes widening as you took him in. His lip was split, blood dripping onto his chin, and a fresh gash ran across his cheekbone. He was cradling his side and his knuckles were red and bruised as if they’d been split open.

“Hey,” he said, his voice strained but trying for casual. He leaned against the doorframe, “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” you said quickly, grabbing his arm to steady him as you pulled him inside.

“Sunghoon?” you whispered, shocked. “What… what happened to you?”

He swayed slightly, bracing himself against the doorframe, his face pale and streaked with blood. “Can I stay here tonight?” he asked, his voice rough and barely above a whisper. Without hesitation, you stepped aside and gently took his arm, guiding him in.

This wasn’t the first time Sunghoon had shown up at your door in this state. Being an underground boxer came with risks, but you never got used to seeing him like this—battered, bruised, and bleeding.

“What happened this time?” you asked as you guided him to sit on your kitchen counter. You grabbed your first-aid kit from the overhead cupboard , your hands already moving with practiced familiarity.

“He hit harder than I anticipated,” he muttered,wincing as he tugged off his hoodie to reveal his tank top underneath. His torso was littered with bruises, some faded yellow and others fresh and angry red. You sighed, “You promised me you’d be careful hoonie.”

He gave you a sheepish smile, one that might’ve been charming if his face wasn’t so beat up. “I was careful. You should see the other guy.”

“Sunghoon,” you said, your tone a mix of frustration and concern.

His smile faded, and he reached for your hand, his bruised fingers curling around yours. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you, so late tonight.”

You exhaled, squeezing his hand before pulling away to start cleaning his wounds. “I’m not scared. I just hate seeing you like this.”

Sunghoon watched you with a soft expression, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with something gentler.

“You’re too good to me,” he said after a while.

You glanced at him, dabbing at the cut on his cheek. “Of course I am. Someone has to take care of you.”

He chuckled lightly, though it ended in a grimace. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Probably not,” you teased, but your voice was warm.

Sunghoon tilted his head, his dark eyes meeting yours. “Thank you. For always being here. I know it’s not easy.”

You softened, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “I love you, Sunghoon. That means I’m here for you—even when you’re stupid enough to get yourself hurt like this.”

He grinned, leaning into your touch. “I love you too.”

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, the quiet hum of the refrigerator the only sound in the room. When his grip on your waist tightened slightly, you knew he needed you as much as you needed him.

“Let’s get you to bed,” you finally said, your voice soft and gentle.

“Only if you’re coming with me,” he teased, the familiar mischief returning to his tone.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “you’re sleeping on your unbloody side.”

He laughed lightly, hopping down from the counter and leaning on you as you guided him toward the bed. Bruised or not, Sunghoon was yours, and you were his—no matter how many times he showed up at your door looking like trouble.

a/n Hehe another fluff fanfic , i actually wanted to do a smut version of this but i don’t know, i could do a part two which leads to smut but ive been so overwhelmed lately :<

i do not give permission to copy, repost, modify or translate my works.

#enhypen #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon smut #enhypen fluff #misticxz #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon oneshots #enhypen drabbles #enhypen soft hours #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen imagines #sunghoon scenarios

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thefoxandthepenguine · 6 months ago

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Lost star (Pt. 1)

Wanda Maximoff x Guitarist!Fem!Reader

Summary: AU. You never had the courage or opportunity to tell Wanda you were the masked YouTuber she admired since high school when you met her in college. What will happen when you meet her again years later, as the teacher of her twins?

Warnings: Slow burn, fluff (for now?), angst

Word count: 2.4k

a/n: Well, well, well- guess who's back? I know I've been gone for so so long and most of you probably already forgot me :'( But I've had this idea for a very long time and couldn't resist the temptation and urge to put it down in words. I hope y'all enjoy this story and please tell me what you think about this by commenting, reblogging or leaving me an ask. Good reading :)

(GIF found online. I don’t own this gif.)

Part 1

“Romanoff! You left your panties in my room. Again!”

With a playful sigh, you swung open the door and tossed the red lace panties toward the redhead, who turned at the sound of your voice. The panties landed on her face, and you huffed with mock irritation.

“And don’t you ever dare to steal my under-”

Suddenly, you faltered, swallowing your words as the person in front of you pulled the panties away, revealing herself to you.

Holy shit.

You cursed yourself for acting so impulsively.

This person, whoever she was, was most definitely not Natasha Romanoff.

“I-” the girl shifted her gaze between the panties pinched in her fingers and you, her brows furrowed in confusion as she spoke. “Uh- wrong person?”

What on earth were you thinking Y/N? Throwing panties on a stranger’s face?

“Oh gosh,” you gasped, too shocked to stop yourself from rambling. “I’m so sorry- I shouldn’t have- I didn’t know- I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to. I- I thought you were Nat 'cause she told me she’d be in her room and her roommate wouldn’t be around. I really am so-”

Much to your surprise, the girl giggled softly before dropping Natasha’s panties into her laundry basket. “Relax. No need to keep apologizing,” she said, seeming to be amused by your flustered state. “By the way, I’m Wanda. Natasha’s roommate.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, calming down enough to take in the person standing across from you. That’s when you breath hitched—

She was stunning.

You were captivated by the vivid shade of emerald in her eyes, so vibrant and expressive under the sunlight streaming through the window. Her hair, not as light as Natasha’s now that you took a closer look, cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, perfectly framing her face.

“And you are?”

Wanda’s voice brought you back, and you noticed her head tilted slightly, curiosity in her eyes.

Oh no.

You curse yourself again under your breath.

“Y/N. I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m an old friend of Natasha.”

“Did you come here to find Nat?” Wanda asked, sitting on her bed. You hesitated for a brief second where you should sit, and finally decided to settle on the edge of Natasha’s bed, sitting across the room from Wanda.

You were not sure if she wanted you to sit near her after what just happened.

“Yeah…we’re planning to have dinner together,” you nodded, offering a small smile.

“Something’s up with their project, so Nat went to the library with her group mates,” Wanda explained, crossing her legs as she shifted to find a more comfortable position on her bed. “But I think she’ll be back soon.”

“Oh,” you said as you rose from the bed and gestured towards the door. “I can wait for her out-”

“It's okay! You can stay here,” Wanda interjected quickly, waving her hand reassuringly.

“You sure?” you asked, pausing with one foot still on the floor, a hesitant expression on your face.

“Mm-hmm.”

You nodded, smiled appreciatively, and returned to your spot on the bed.

Silence soon settled in. Occasionally, you and Wanda would meet each other's gaze in the air, but only to look away the next moment. This awkward tension lingered for a minute or two until you began to fidget with the sheets self-consciously, feeling the discomfort of the silence. You scanned the room desperately for something, anything, to spark a conversation, hoping to ease the tension between you two.

Then, something leaning against the wall caught your eye.

“You play guitar?” you asked, nodding towards the instrument in the corner of Wanda's side of the room.

“Oh, that!” Wanda followed your gaze and waved her hand dismissively. “I wish I knew how to play. I’m just learning.”

“That’s cool!” you said, genuinely intrigued now. “Any songs you’re working on?”

“Yeah, ‘How deep is your love’!” Wanda exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she mentioned the song.

“Great choice! It’s a classic,” you replied with a grin, feeling an unexpected surge of happiness at discovering your shared love for the same song.

“Argh but I’m terrible at it,” Wanda huffed in frustration, her nose scrunching slightly as she likely recalled her practice sessions. “I can never get the barre chord right.”

“Do you have a teacher, or are you learning online?” you asked, leaning forward unconsciously as the conversation carried on.

“Oh, I’m learning online. Come here, let me show you!” She patted the space next to her on the bed, inviting you to sit beside her. As you made your way across the room, Wanda shifted onto her knees and crawled across the bed to reach for her laptop on the nightstand.

Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she opened a webpage and positioned the screen between the two of you. "I’ve been following this tutorial guide by a YouTuber. Have you ever watched her videos? You have to check her out if you haven’t. She’s such an amazing guitarist!"

You almost choked in surprise the moment you recognized your own video playing. It showed a person playing the guitar and singing "How Deep Is Your Love," with tabs and chords displayed at the bottom. You could not see her face as the highest part visible was her chin.

But you knew damn right who this girl was in the video.

This was literally your channel.

"I- you like this YouTuber?" you asked, struggling to suppress an amused smile as you turned to face Wanda. Your heart raced, a mixture of pride and disbelief swelling inside you.

“Like? I’m her biggest fan! She’s amazing!” Wanda exclaimed, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “I’ve been following her for years! She posts tons of guitar covers, and every time she includes tutorials with free tabs. Do you know how hard it is to find good free tabs online?”

Of course you knew how difficult it was. That was why you started posting the tabs for free on your channel after listening to songs and music you liked.

Wanda carried on, her excitement contagious. And you were surprised to find that she was so talkative when talking about-

You.

“And you know what? She has the best taste in music! It’s like she always posts songs that I love! But it’s such a pity she never shows her face in the videos. I wish I could see what she looks like!” Wanda pouted at the thought of the face reveal but still looked radiant this whole time.

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks as Wanda continued to shower compliments on you, unaware that you were the person she had been talking about this whole time.

You had never met any of your followers, or fans, in real life. Few people knew you were the one running this channel, except for your family and a few close friends. Yes, you had started the channel for a few years and you had had a decent number of followers that you were happy with. But hell, you had never imagined you would one day meet someone who claimed to be your fan.

You got a fan?

You still couldn’t believe it.

Should you tell her?

She seemed to be a big fan of yours and really loved your music. That would make her happy, right? Knowing the YouTuber that she loved was sitting right next to her.

But then you hesitated, unsure if you should reveal that the person who had just tossed panties onto her face was the same person she had admired so much for so long.

What if you ruined her imagination of this great guitarist?

That’s also why you chose not to reveal your face in the first place. You wanted people to listen to your music, not judged it based on how you looked or who you were.

Or- if you were being honest-

You were afraid they wouldn’t like your music as much if they figured out who you really were.

The real you.

Just when you were struggling with your options, you heard the door fling open and a familiar voice reached your ears. “God, Wanda, I can’t believe I forgot my USB in-”

The three of you froze, exchanging glances.

“Y/N! You’re here!” Natasha seemed a bit surprised to see you sitting side by side with Wanda.

You rolled your eyes. Based on how well you knew Natasha, you were pretty sure she had forgotten your dinner plan. “We have dinner plans tonight.”

“Oh right! I’m sorry, dear, I forgot. Let me fix my project first and I’ll be right back.” Natasha mumbled something about her project as she rummaged through her table for the USB.

USB in hand, Natasha turned around with a smirk, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She leaned slightly against the table, crossing one arm over her chest while holding the USB up with the other. “Wanda, already forcing Y/N to watch your favorite YouTube channel?” she asked, her gaze shifting between the two of you with keen interest.

Wanda's cheeks turned a light shade of pink as she looked up at Natasha, her expression a mix of mild embarrassment and amusement. “Not forcing! I’m just introducing her to it!” she said, a small smile playing on her lips as she glanced over at you, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her laptop.

“Hmm,” Natasha raised an eyebrow and shrugged before continuing, “You know, it’s nice you two finally met. I’ve been dying to introduce you to each other for so long!” Natasha said as she walked towards the door, the smirk still firmly in place. “Y/N, have you told Wanda already?”

“Tell me what?” Wanda snapped her head and looked at you curiously.

“Uh- I-” you stuttered, feeling the heat creeping up to your face again. Your mind raced, trying to make the right decision, but the intensity of Wanda’s gaze made it difficult to think straight.

“No way! You haven’t told her yet? Y/N is-”

You glared at Natasha, silently pleading with her to stop. She paused halfway through her sentence, throwing you a confused look before changing what she was going to spill. “- an excellent guitar player. She plays exactly as good as that YouTuber you like.”

Well, even if Wanda had to know, you should be the one telling her directly, not from any other’s mouth.

Natasha winked with a smug expression at you before you turned around to see Wanda’s eyes widen in shock, her mouth falling open slightly. “Seriously?”

“She’s just exaggerating,” you tried to downplay it, your hands fluttering nervously.

Wanda gasped, a mix of surprise and admiration in her voice. “Whoa that’s so cool! Can you actually play that song?”

“Yeah,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, scratching the back of your neck.

“Oh my God!” Wanda rolled off her bed to grab the guitar and handed it to you. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you play it for me? I really love that song.”

“Well-” you hesitated, feeling a bit embarrassed as all eyes were on you.

“Please?” Wanda added, her eyes wide and hopeful.

How could you say “no” to those puppy dog eyes silently begging you? Your heart melted at her earnest expression.

“Uh- sure,” you agreed, taking the guitar from her.

You didn’t miss her genuine grin as you shifted to face her on the bed, holding the guitar on your lap. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, and she leaned forward slightly, her entire demeanor radiating excitement. The way she looked at you, full of eager curiosity, made your heart race even faster.

Though you felt a bit flustered playing in front of someone at such close proximity, the weight of the guitar in your hands was familiar and comforting. As you strummed the strings, the music notes seemed to soothe your nerves.

It all felt natural to you.

“Whoa-” Wanda exclaimed, momentarily speechless as you played the final note. When she lifted her gaze from your hands to meet your eyes, you could tell something had changed in the way she looked at you. “I can’t believe this! You play exactly like her after watching the video just once.”

“Thank you,” you chuckled sheepishly.

Well after all, you wrote that arrangement.

It was then you looked around the room and noticed Natasha was long gone. Only you and Wanda were left alone.

“That was- whoa!” Wanda mumbled, looking down at her hands on her lap. “I wish I could play like you. But my hand…I think I could never figure out the barre chord.”

“Your hand actually seems pretty big, maybe bigger than mine,” you said, opening your palm and glancing at it. When you looked up, you saw Wanda holding her hand up towards you, and you instinctively placed your hand against hers. “See? Yours is bigger than mine. You can definitely do this.”

“You think?” Wanda asked, her voice tinged with doubt as she glanced at her hand.

“Do you want to give it a try? Maybe I can help,” you suggested, adjusting the guitar on your lap and offering it to her.

“Is that okay?” Wanda’s fingers hovered uncertainly over the strings.

“Of course!” you replied with a reassuring smile.

You handed the guitar back to Wanda and watched as she placed her fingers on the neck, trying to play the B minor chord. She got the notes right, but the sound came out a bit muffled and unclear, with a faint buzz.

“Urgh!” Wanda groaned, her brows knitting together. “See? I can never get it right.”

“Alright, let’s see-” you said, moving closer to her and pointing at her fingers. “Do you mind if I adjust your fingers a bit?”

“Go ahead.” Wanda nodded eagerly.

“You need to move your index finger closer to the fret, like this. And maybe turn it slightly so your bone presses on the neck,” you explained, gently adjusting her finger. “Then bend your middle and ring fingers a bit more so they don’t touch the strings below.”

You checked her fingers one last time, making sure they were in the right position. “There you go. Try it again.” You nodded encouragingly at Wanda.

When her right hand strummed the strings, the chord rang out with a clean, crisp sound. You immediately smiled. “See? You’ve got this!”

Wanda’s eyes widened with disbelief, and she gasped slightly. “I did it! I can play the chord! Thank you so much!”

“No problem,” you grinned, feeling the earlier awkwardness dissolve.

#wanda #wanda mcu #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #natasha romanoff

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vesearlee · 24 days ago

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──── 𝑭𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑨𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕

It was the duty of an assistant to assist in all matters their employer may need — paperwork, errands, fetching things from near and far, but this mischievous feline took the role and ran with it, and you had no choice but to rewrite the definition of demanding when she had her way with the busy doctor.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ── Zayne x F!Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ── 2.5k 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ── T 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ── Tooth Rotting Domestic Fluff, humour, flirting, established relationship, Zayne is the best cat dad, Zayne’s sweet-tooth can never be defeated 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ── HERE 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ── I couldn't get this scene out of my head for weeks and I finally articulated it just how I wanted it, I am free!

─── 𝑳𝑨𝑫𝑺 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ───

The bottom of your shoes crunched over the fallen leaves scattered by the wind on the front steps of Zayne’s home, a soothing sound that caught the attention of your companion who watched with bright, wide eyes. “Pretty, isn’t it?” you asked, shifting your grip over the small body.

A small purr was your only answer, given the trail of a burnt amber leaf falling from the sky was far more interesting.

“Ah, there she is,” a voice called, muffled behind the wooden door. The handle clicked and swung inwards to reveal the source — Zayne. And to your surprise, he was dressed in his classic slacks and dark dress shirt, with his signature glasses perched on his nose. “Just when I thought you wouldn’t come back home.”

You scrunched your nose and furrowed your brow, indignant at the accusation. “It was only a small walk!” The bundle of fur in your arms: a fluffy, white kitten, agreed with you loudly — the mewl at the sight of her second favourite human made Zayne smile softly. “We missed you.”

“Is that so? I wouldn’t have imagined Jasmine could miss her second favourite.”

“Of course she did,” you replied, walking forward and taking the steps one by one. When you reached his tall figure in the doorway, you leaned in towards him and he gently kissed you on the lips before closing the door behind you.

The space that made up Zayne’s living room and adjacent kitchen was spotless as usual. A few pillows were misplaced on the couch — the touch of home your doing — and you raised a brow at the sight of a couple of small cat toys in a basket: a small mouse, a bell, and a stuffed toy that looked suspiciously like a macaroon. “You’ve been busy…”

Soft footfalls came up behind you, and the feel of his hands encircling your waist sent a shiver up your spine. “I only picked them up the other day. I thought she’d like them,” Zayne chuckled, his voice quiet in your ear.

The pad of his index finger traced up from your waist to your arm, and towards the kitten in your hands where it scratched the fur between Jasmine’s ears. A loud purr made the furry kitten’s whole body vibrate with the intensity. “Hello, you.”

Wordlessly, you maneuvered Jasmine and held her against Zayne’s chest, who stumbled back a step with a grunt of surprise. “Hmph–”

“C’mon, you said you had work or reports or something to do today and we’re here to keep you company.” The sound of your footsteps echoed in the large space, and you headed towards the kitchen for a warm drink. “She’s your assistant—she’ll be perfect to help you with them and whatever else you need to do.”

“...Very well.” Zayne followed behind you, his voice barely above a whisper while he cooed at the kitten.

You glanced over your shoulder to find Jasmine rubbing against the side of his face and up towards his ear. The contrast from the snowy-white fur of her coat and his raven hair only made you smile, and when Zayne caught your gaze, you witnessed how his hazel eyes held such adoration for the creature.

A smile tugged at your lips, and you gestured towards his office down the hall. “Well, chop chop! Get to it, that’s what she’s saying.”

“Assistants shouldn’t be so demanding,” he huffed, turning away from you to start walking towards his work.

“Just you wait.” The clink of your favourite mug and his far duller one against the countertop made you giddy with excitement — given the doctor’s sweet-tooth, he was always guaranteed to have acquired the best hot chocolate, and you busied yourself with preparing the two treats with a flourish.

With both mugs in hand a few moments later, you started to make your way towards his office, only you stopped short at the melodic sound of his voice.

“And here,” Zayne said quietly, “is where we put— No, stop it, you tyrant.” The sound of plastic scooting over the wooden surface of his desk was followed by a deep, regretful sigh. “You are so much like your mother. She’s a bad influence on you.”

You bit your lip to stifle your snort of laughter, and you leaned closer to the door, both mugs in hand and a book you snuck from his bookshelf held snug to your side by the crook of your elbow.

“Come here, little one,” he teased, and you heard the tap of a finger against something that rustled softly. “You can play with these instead, I need that pen.” The soft patter of paws followed his compromise, and an almost silent trill. “There you go.”

The temptation to peek was far too much to bear.

Slowly, you peered around the doorway and towards the window, where a large desk was placed. Shelves of files and books lined either wall, as well as small props and figurines were scattered about, livening the space with touches of personality.

On the desk, you could spy a photo frame by the monitor screen — one of the many photos you had insisted upon taking at the ski resort. It was one of your most favourite moments: seeing Zayne’s hair covered in snow while you held his face between your hands truly had been memorable.

A slight shuffle of footsteps brought your attention back to the matter at hand, and you struggled to keep quiet at the sight of Jasmine batting at Zayne’s wrist and shiny watch while he typed. Her small behind sat on the permitted stack of papers, while her even smaller, fluffier tail curled with her playful intent in time with the clicks of the keyboard.

You could see the minute movements of her head while she watched his fingers move, and before you could warn him of a potential attack, she pounced.

Zayne let out a noise of shock and froze — from his knuckles to his forearm was covered in the whole of Jasmine’s body, the white fur of her coat sticking to the black sleeve of his shirt like a second skin.

You couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer. “Oh no, she’s at it again.”

“Will you–?” he asked, his voice strained against the urge to laugh with you. “She’s a handful, just like someone else I know.”

“You poor thing.” The mugs fit perfectly on the coasters at his desk, and you leaned against the large desk drawers with your hip to take in the scene. “Asking me to take care of an unruly intern? Has the serious, frowning chief grown soft and sweet after so much sugar?”

The side-eye glare Zayne shot you made you almost buckle over in mirth — the glow of his eyes seemed to brighten with the taunt, and you dramatically wiped your cheek from pretend tears. “I can’t believe my eyes,” you breathed in awe — his admission truly astonishing.

“Just take her, please. And I will have this,” he said, deft fingers wrapping around the handle of his mug, “as my compensation. You should prepare more, for if I have to sue for damages…”

Your hand flew to your chest in mock offence. “How dare you! I run a tight ship with my assistants, it is not my fault that you can’t bear to tell her no.”

“Troublemaker.”

You sneered and poked his shoulder. “Grouch.”

From that moment on, the office was filled with the occasional chatter and whispers of taunts to the playful feline; bets of how many treats she would receive for distracting the other. The mugs had long been emptied and refilled several times, and you couldn’t help but feel content at being cosied up on the lounge chair Zayne placed in his working space just for you.

It truly felt as if the simple, unassuming piece of furniture had been in place for longer than it truly had been, but when he had surprised you with the gesture, you could recall just how you felt: the flutter of your heart in league with the butterflies in your stomach, as well as the love you held for him and the fact he noticed your need to be closer.

Over time, the couch had been broken in with many late nights reading books or binge watching a show with headphones, if the busy doctor couldn’t be disturbed.

Not to mention, the longer you stayed nestled into the cushions, the more suspiciously new blankets and pillows appeared. Your favourite was currently draped over your lap, the side of your hand that held your book resting on top of the crisp white plush fabric, whiter than snow. Light blue polka-dots were scattered in a carefree, artistic way, and you couldn’t help but pet over the soft areas with your palm absentmindedly.

Zayne swore he bought it purely for the reason of: “It matched what you described as my colours, darling.”

You rebuffed with the fact: “It looks like the snowman plushie on your desk.” The truth of that argument was discovered when a subtle tinge of pink moved from the tips of Zayne’s ears to his high cheekbones.

Sighing, you turned the page of your book, humming with content at the origin of your comfortable couch, when it happened.

“Jasmine.” Zayne’s tone was uncharacteristically sharp, and you looked up from the words of the page you were currently invested in.

The kitten, ever meddlesome, had wormed her way beneath the monitor and started to bat at the smaller cords that led from the screen and down the back of the desk. She didn’t listen, too engrossed in her mischief making.

Zayne rolled his eyes behind his glasses and reached out to wrap his hand around her middle. You couldn’t help the slight chuckle at the loud whine of protest that came from the kitten. “She’s just trying to help,” you insisted, though you failed to hide the amusement in your tone.

“She’s only causing trouble,” he grumbled, and he placed Jasmine on his chest, her paws pushing against the muscle there hard enough to wrinkle his once pristine shirt. His large hand pet down her back and held her bottom half so she wouldn’t fall. “Hm? Your only intention is to distract me and cause chaos.”

Jasmine’s pink nose bumped against the tip of Zayne’s.

“I know, you are cute, yes, little one,” he murmured, his free hand now moving the mouse of his computer. “But I have to get this done—afterwards we can play.”

The sight warmed your heart more than any hot chocolate could, and just when you thought it could not get any cuter, Zayne kissed the top of Jasmine’s head gently and placed her down on his desk closer to you. “Why don’t you bother your mother so I can get this done faster?”

You scoffed, but placed your book down, nonetheless. “Yeah, sure, use me as a scapegoat.” Jasmine tottered towards you, her ears perked forward at the sound of your voice, and you smiled at the little kitten. “C’mere, sweet girl.”

A comfortable silence stretched once more after Jasmine settled in your lap, her ears and nose twitching slightly as she investigated your book. Every now and then, you read a sentence aloud and watched with amusement as she looked up at you, curious as to the events of the story, no doubt.

“How can you be so sweet?” you asked her quietly, scratching her chin after she yawned.

“What a coincidence. I ask myself that every day about you. When you have the answer, do share,” Zayne mused aloud, his gaze homed in on the screen, though a slight smirk pulled at the visible corner of his lips.

The sudden heat of the room made you gaze at your lap shyly, but you couldn’t deny the swoop of your stomach at the sweetness of his words. “I eat too much sugar, that’s why,” you replied quietly, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

Time still seemed to slip by as you sat comfortably settled on the couch, Jasmine in your lap and the story evolving to be mysterious and full of turns. Though, the kitten had grown restless again, the absence of any ability to cause trouble while in your lap had gotten to her, and her patience began to wear thin.

You glanced from your book to Zayne, who was busy typing away on reports, his hazel eyes reading through line for line what care he provided to the patient, when it came to you — as an assistant, Jasmine was to be delegated important tasks to better the workload on her charge, which just happened to include the necessity for rest, and the dire need for laughter.

He always said your laughter could be the cure for all of his ailments…

The book closed quietly, and you moved to hold Jasmine with one hand, the kitten unusually still and cooperative as you maneuvered you both off of the couch.

“What are you up to?” Zayne asked suddenly, but his gaze did not shift from the screen.

You startled. “Uh– Nothing, I was just thinking of getting a snack…?” It was a flimsy excuse.

He only said a quiet, “Hm,” in reply before his typing resumed at the fast pace he was exceptional at. Only when you felt his focus was wholly back upon his reports, did you dare to move again. Your feet were silent over the floor as you padded towards his chair, your accomplice in hand — silent and ready to strike.

“I know you’re behind me, love.” The click of keys continued, nonplussed nor slowed in their rhythm.

It was time.

Jasmine let out a victorious mewl as you placed her upon her target, and you giggled as she wagged her tail.

Zayne made a choked sound of shock and indignation, ducking down at the sudden weight on the crown of his head — soft paws held fast, however, and she followed where he moved with a purr louder than ever before.

To say the sight was comical was understated. In the reflection of the monitor and the windows behind it, you saw Zayne’s expression turn from dumbfounded into playful annoyance, the curve of his grimace resembling more of a grin. The kitten was bright eyed once more and kneaded her paws into the black hair, tousling it from its normal neatness.

“Is this my assistant’s demand that it’s time for a break?” he asked, arching a brow while one of Jasmine’s paws slid from his mussed hair to his forehead, knocking his glasses askew and forcing his eye to close. The open one stared at you from the reflection of the monitor.

“It sure is, Doctor Zayne—we say it’s time for sweets.”

“Oh? It’s ‘we’ now?”

“I meant she says–” You backpedalled.

Zayne took off the crooked glasses and stood from his chair, turning around while one hand steadied the kitten on top of his head. “A good doctor always listens to the orders of his superior.” He kissed you on the lips and pulled away, laughing at the way Jasmine batted at your forehead. “Come on, before little miss becomes too unruly for being left out of any treats.”

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 ── Tolkien Edition Bingo (@fandom-free-bingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Play Fighting • B2 ── MASTERLIST ── Eclipsing Bingo (@eclipsingbingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Playing With Someone's Hair • G3 ── MASTERLIST

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 9 months ago

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He's My Man (Part 1)

Summary: The reader receives an anonymous text from a new client needing an off the books patch job. However he's annoyingly good looking and the last thing you need is some ex-special ops guy hanging around. Unfortunately for you, Russell Shaw isn't the kind of guy to walk away when he knows something's wrong...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 2,000ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury

A/N: Contains minor spoilers for Tracker 1x12. Please enjoy the start of this new series! I'm not sure how long it will go but thanks for coming on this ride with me!

__________

Your ears perked up on Saturday morning when your phone buzzed on the coffee table before you. Not your everyday one but your one for work. You swiped it open, pursing your lips when you saw it was from an unknown number.

Need a patch job on a quilt. Doug recommended you as a good seamstress in the area.

Alright, well at least this guy knew one of your clients. Doug wasn’t a regular but you’d seen him once or twice over the years which meant the person on the other end wasn’t a cop most likely.

I can fit you in. More complicated the patch, the more it’ll cost.

Not an issue.

You hummed and stood up, grabbing your coffee mug along the way.

129 Edwards Ave in twenty minutes. Use the red back door.

You took a long sip and went over to the kitchen, tossing the rest down the sink, leaving the mug to be cleaned later.

You just hoped this job wasn’t as bad as the last one.

Eighteen minutes later you heard the back door open and then silence, a moment’s hesitation as your new client entered what looked like a storage area. You flipped a light switch, illuminating the small enter sign over the doorway to the room you were prepping in. A few moments later there were heavy boots against the cement ground as he entered, turning to tile, your head lifting.

A man in his forties, a quite handsome one at that, gave the small operating room a cursory glance before settling on you, determining you were the only one there. Meanwhile your gaze shot to his injured left arm, a gunshot from the looks of it. You only spotted one bloody bullet hole and figured that was the worst of it from the way he cradled his forearm.

“You the seamstress?” he asked quietly, scanning the counter full of medical equipment and metal table in the center of the room.

“Take a seat,” you said, patting the table. You went to a sink and washed up, making sure to keep him in view at all times. He winced and struggled to get the coat off, finally managing and revealing a quick patch job had been done. After drying your hands, you snapped on some gloves, the man’s coat and overshirt now on the table behind him.

“Russell Shaw by the way,” he said.

“Y/N,” you said, carefully taking his forearm in one hand, the top of his muscular bicep in the other. You turned his arm slightly, Russell wincing again. “Looks like a through and through. We’ll do a quick x-ray to make sure there’s no shrapnel and then we’ll get you stitched up and I’ll send you home with some supplies and instructions to care for it. This your only injury?”

“Yeah. Doug said you were good.”

“I am,” you said, offering him a brief smile, he returned. “Do you have any PTSD? Going to come at me if I I need to use a scalpel?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I’m good with all that.”

You hummed, guiding him to lay back. Three minutes later you were pushing your x-ray machine aside and taking the lead vest away, Russell sitting upright.

“Can I ask a question?”

“You can ask, don’t mean I’ll answer, sweetie,” you said back, hanging up the vest and going to your laptop on the counter.

“How does one get into this line of work?” he asked.

“Asks the man that’s ex-special ops and does private contract gigs, not to mention killed probably three people minimum tonight.” You glanced over to him, Russell tilting his head. “I know who Doug is and what he does. Makes sense you do it too. You have blood under your fingernails and given the splatter patterns on your jeans, you had multiple different angled shots so multiple bodies you hit.”

“...And you don’t report that sort of thing?” he asked cautiously. You determined his x-ray looked good and washed up again, putting on more new gloves. By the time you were standing before him again, he looked nervous.

“On occasion. But only the monsters. You, you don’t strike me as a monster, Russell,” you said, wiping some antiseptic over his entry and exit wounds. He flinched but only slightly at the quick burn. A moment later you were giving him something to numb the area.

“Someone took Doug. Someone bad. They would have come back if I hadn’t done what needed to be done.” You wiped sterile gauze over his wound and then flushed it, Russell watching your graceful movements with interest.

“Like I said, not a monster.” You hummed as you worked, Russell fixated on you carefully cleaning and then pulling the skin back together, tying it up neatly. You wiped away the evidence of his blood and wrapped his bicep in thick gauze, taping it down so he could still get movement without worrying about it coming off.

You chucked your gloves in the trash and nodded back to the door behind you.

“There’s a shower in there and some brushes. Turn it on low, scrub yourself clean, under your nails too. Use the blue soap. When you’re done, throw everything away in the bin, including your bloody clothes. You leave your boots, anything you want to keep out here with me. There’s men’s sweats and some shirts on the shelf. By the time you’re done, your boots and other items will have no trace of wherever you’ve been. Got it?”

“I do like a woman that takes charge.” He smirked, sliding off the table and dropping slowly to kneel to unlace his shoes, still looking up at you. “Full service deal you got going here.”

“Yes it is and here’s a friendly reminder for my new client. You come anywhere near me with your dick out, I’ll make you regret being alive. Understand, sweetie?” you said, patting his cheek. “Off you go.”

“God damn, I love you,” he muttered under his breath. You rolled your eyes but smirked when your back was to him. Ten minutes later the room was clean and Russell exited the bathroom with damp, slicked back hair wearing a plain white t-shirt, black hanes sweat pants and white socks. You nodded to where his shoes sat on the end of the counter, Russell taking a seat in the chair nearby as he slipped them on.

After he checked he had his phone, keys and wallet, he raised himself to his feet, pulling out his wallet.

“What do I owe you?”

“A thousand.” To your surprise, he didn’t flinch at that number. But like most of your clients, he didn’t have the cash on him, at least not that much. Russell smirked as he glanced back in the bathroom.

“Smart woman. You keep the evidence as ransom until your clients pay up. You won’t destroy that until after I pay, will you.”

“Not until we get to know each other better do I do that sort of thing without payment. Seeing as you’re new and a friend of Doug’s, I’ll give you to the end of next week to pull it together. I offer payment plan options and other alternative forms of care if shit ever really hit the fan for you.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, putting down five hundred dollar bills. “I can bring the other half back here later today. Just need to run to an ATM.”

“Text me when you got the rest. I’ll send you a place to meet,” you said, nodding towards the door. He gave you a small salute and shook his head with a smile.

Forty minutes later you were sitting at a table in the cafe three blocks over, happily sipping on your coffee while working your way through a cheese danish. You spotted Russell when he came in. He gave you a quick, adorably awkward wave and ordered himself a drink. A few minutes later he was sitting down across from you, a small cup and what appeared to be a banana muffin in hand.

“You’re a coffee snob aren’t you. This place is pricey,” he teased, his brow furrowing when he had a drink from his styrofoam cup. “Shit. That’s fucking good.”

“Beats whatever motel crap I’m sure you’re used to,” you said, his gaze hardening for a split second. “Sorry. I always tail my first time clients to make sure they aren’t…you know who. You know the Elkwood Lodge on route 8 is cleaner and cheaper than what you’re paying for now.”

“How would you know that?” he asked. You shrugged and simply grinned, taking another bite of danish. He licked his lips, pointing at the yet to be touched danish beside you. “Was that one for me?”

“God no. I fucking love danishes and these are incredible,” you said, finishing off the first and biting into the other.

“You are something else,” he said, smirking when he slid a white envelope across the table. You tucked it into your jacket pocket, Russell picking at his own muffin. “You ain’t going to check it’s all there?”

“You’re a smart man, Russell. I think you know not to screw me over.” He looked you up and down, earning a pointed response. “Keep that gutter mind to yourself.”

“If I’m in the gutter, you’re right there with me,” he said, absently rubbing his injured arm. “And uh, if it gets infected or I think it is, I should reach out?”

“Absolutely. That ain’t a normal injury you’re used to. Don’t play tough guy, tough guy.” He nodded, his body twisting ever so slightly towards a standing position. “Nope. Stay for at least five minutes, then you can go.”

“You really like telling me what to do, don’t you,” he grinned.

“Russell.” Hss grin was wide before he took a long drag of coffee, humming as it went down.

“What if I want to stay more than five minutes?” You paused mid-chew of your danish. “Come on, one conversation won’t kill you.”

“I don’t get involved with clients.”

“Alright. I respect that but this ain’t my end goal. I’m going to have a normal life someday. I make a pretty mean homebrew. Going to get some land, open up a brewery, have some food, make it a little family place everybody can enjoy. So that’s my goal. I sure as hell know working as a seamstress ain’t your end goal either. So again, what’s the harm in one conversation?”

You bit your bottom lip, Russell’s expression changing, ever so slightly.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered. “What-“

“Shut up,” you mumbled. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your fucking face did. You don’t want to be a seamstress, do you? Can you not get out of your line of work?” You glanced out the window, even the wonderful flavors of the pastry doing nothing to help the unease in your gut. “I can help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” you snapped. You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Sorry. I…I’m just crabby because I didn’t have my morning coffee until just now.”

“Nice try.” You glared at him, his green eyes remarkably gentle. “I don’t leave my friends behind. Now either you tell me what’s going on or I’m going to poke around myself and I guarantee that’s going to be a lot more dangerous and you’ll just have to patch me up even more. What do you say?”

You stared at him and stared at him and stared at him for what felt like forever. Then you took out the envelope and handed it back to him, along with the five hundred in your purse.

“Go buy me two more cheese danishes and a large caramel frappe to go. Then take me to your motel room. This is a long fucking story.”

__________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#Russell Shaw x reader #Russell Shaw #Russell Shaw Fanfiction #Tracker Fanfiction #Tracker #Russell Shaw x you #Russell Shaw series

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partoffantasy · 12 days ago

Text

Playing Dirty - Liam Mairi

⸻ image credits to mybookishdoodles ⸻

summary: when their latest round of flirtation turns into something more, reader finds herself on the losing end for the first time. Because Liam isn’t just playing anymore. And when he finally makes his move, she realizes—maybe she never stood a chance to begin with.

pairing: liam mairi x fem!reader warnings: MDNI!, smut, swearing, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m) word count: 3.1k

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

–Liam’s POV–

I am going to die. Not from battle. Not from a wyvern attack. Not even from the war. No. I am going to die because of her. Because Y/N just peeled off her shirt like it was nothing, revealing a tight black sports bra and an equally tight pair of shorts that should be illegal. I feel my brain short-circuit.

Every thought evaporates from my head, leaving only one very obvious fact: She is wearing that on purpose. And she knows exactly what she’s doing. I catch the way her lips quirk when she stretches, rolling out her shoulders, pretending she doesn’t notice the way half the damn training grounds are watching her.

I definitely notice. And so does everyone else.

Sawyer whistles under his breath. “Oh, she’s playing dirty today.” Ridoc snickers. “Wonder who she’s trying to kill.” “Me,” I say immediately. “The answer is me.” Violet, standing beside me, hums knowingly. “Well, it’s about time someone made a move.” I shoot her a look, but my attention snaps back to the mat as Y/N steps up to her opponent—another first-year I don’t recognize.

And then she smirks. Oh, fuck me. Because I know that smirk. That smirk means trouble. That smirk means she’s about to put on a show. And I should look away. I should not let myself get sucked into this game she’s playing. But then she moves. Quick, sharp, precise—like she’s dancing, like she was born for this.

She dodges her opponent’s first hit with ease, twisting gracefully, using her smaller size to her advantage. And then she strikes—landing a hit so fast the first-year doesn’t even see it coming. He stumbles back. She smiles sweetly. And gods help me, I am not okay. Sawyer nudges me. “You’re staring.” I don’t even deny it. “She’s doing this on purpose.” Rhi grins. “Of course she is.”

“She’s trying to get in my head,” I mutter, watching as Y/N dodges another attack, her body twisting in a way that is absolutely illegal. “She thinks she’s winning.” Ridoc snorts. “Well… she kinda is.” I shoot him a glare. “Not for long.”

Because two can play this game. And the second Instructor Emet calls my name, I don’t hesitate. I grab the back of my shirt and tug it over my head, dropping it to the mat before stepping forward, letting my shoulders roll loose, letting my muscles flex just enough.

I hear the sharp intake of breath behind me. And when I turn to face Y/N, her eyes are locked on my chest. I smirk. Got her. Her throat bobs. I raise a brow. “Something wrong, Y/N?” She blinks fast, clearing her throat, forcing her gaze up. “Not at all.” But her voice wobbles.

–Y/N’s POV–

Oh, he thinks he’s so smart. Thinks he can one-up me. Thinks that just because he took his damn shirt off—and yes, okay, it’s annoyingly distracting—he has the upper hand. But what Liam doesn’t realize? I like a challenge.

Instructor Emet doesn’t waste time. “Cadets,” he calls, stepping back. “Begin.” And I don’t hesitate. I lunge first, aiming for his left side. He dodges. I spin, barely missing his grip, and twist—using the momentum to aim a sharp kick at his ribs.

He blocks me with his forearm, but his smile widens. “You’re fast,” he murmurs. I smirk. “You hesitated.” And then I strike again. We move like clockwork—fluid, sharp, precise. Attack. Block. Counter. Strike. It’s a deadly, dangerous dance, and neither of us are willing to give in. But the thing about Liam? He’s stronger.

And the second he catches my wrist, I know I’m in trouble. Because I might be fast, but he’s got sheer, unfair brute force on his side. He yanks me forward, using my own momentum against me, spinning me midair before pinning me flat against the mat.

And suddenly—He’s everywhere. His chest pressing into mine, his breath warm against my cheek, his fingers tight around my wrists. I freeze. Because fuck. Because he’s really close. Because his pupils are blown wide and his golden-retriever face is looking far too pleased with himself.

“Pinned you,” he murmurs, way too smug. I swallow hard. “You think you’ve won.” His grip tightens. “Haven’t I?” Oh, hell no. He’s playing dirty. So I do, too. I shift beneath him—arching just enough, pressing against the solid weight of him, letting my breath hitch just slightly. His whole body tenses. His jaw locks.

And I see it—the brief flicker of panic in his eyes, the moment he realizes that he might have just played himself. I smirk. “Not quite,” I whisper. And then I flip him.

He grunts as his back hits the mat, and before he can react, I’m on top of him, straddling his waist, pinning his wrists to the ground. His eyes go wild. “Oh,” he breathes. Just that. Just oh.

Like he finally understands.

Like he finally sees me.

Like he finally realizes that this game we’re playing? Neither of us are winning.

Because we’re both already gone.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The second classes end, I don’t hesitate. Liam is still talking to Ridoc about something utterly irrelevant—something about lunch, maybe? I don’t care. Because I have one goal.

I grab his wrist, fingers wrapping tight, and yank. “Whoa—Y/N?” His voice is confused, but his feet follow without hesitation. I don’t stop until we’re behind the massive stone statue near the edge of the courtyard—tucked away from prying eyes, away from everyone.

Alone.

The moment we’re in the shadows, I turn, my back hitting the cold stone, Liam right there in front of me, confused but very interested. “What are you—” “I’m tired of this game,” I cut him off, my voice low, breath coming fast.

His expression shifts—just slightly. His head tilts, watching me closely. He’s amused. That should infuriate me. Instead, it makes my stomach tighten. “Oh?” His voice is soft, teasing. “What game, exactly?”

Infuriating.

I step closer, closing the space between us, looking up at him through my lashes. He’s so tall, so broad, his shoulders blocking out the light. “The one we’ve been playing all day,” I whisper-shout at him, getting angry.

I see it—the flicker in his eyes, the moment my words hit. But then he does something I don’t expect. He laughs. Soft. Low. And then, in one slow movement, he steps closer. And closer.

Until I’m fully pinned against the statue, his hands braced on either side of me, caging me in.

Until I have nowhere to go.

Until his mouth is just at my ear, his breath warm against my skin.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice lower, rougher than I’ve ever heard it. “Stop calling this a game, you know it isn’t.” My breath catches. Oh, fuck. My heartbeat slams against my ribs. I refuse to break eye contact, but my fingers betray me—curling slightly, gripping his bicep just a little too tight.

He notices. And he smiles. A slow, knowing, dangerous smile. “Here’s the thing, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing just barely over my hip. “I see you. I see right through you. You act like you’re in control. Like you’re the one calling the shots.” His fingers tighten slightly. “But that’s not what you really want, is it?”

I don’t react. I can’t. Because he’s right. He knows he’s right. And fuck, that should scare me. But all it does is set me on fire. I open my mouth, but he’s already there—tilting my chin just slightly with his fingers, making me look at him.

“You need someone who isn’t afraid to take control,” he continues, his voice like gravel and heat. “Someone who doesn’t let you push them around. Someone who knows exactly what you need and isn’t afraid to give it to you.”

I suck in a sharp breath. His thumb brushes my lower lip, just barely. And then he pulls back. Just enough to make me feel the distance. Just enough to make me ache. Then he smirks. “Are you going to finally give in, Y/N?” I stop myself to think. Because if we start—We won’t stop.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Liam pulls me into his room, the door falling softly behind us, the sound of the lock clicking in place. The air between us crackles with anticipation. Before I can even process it, he presses me against the wall with a force that leaves me breathless, his lips crashing onto mine in a searing kiss. His hands grip my sides, pulling me closer, and I can feel the heat radiating off him. I tangle my fingers in his soft blonde hair, tugging at the strands as if grounding myself in the sensation of him.

His lips move from my mouth to my neck, trailing hot, wet kisses along my sensitive skin. My head falls back, instinctively giving him more access, and I shiver, feeling his warmth spread through me. His breath is ragged against my throat, and when he sucks gently on the skin there, a quiet moan escapes my lips. His grin is audible as he murmurs, “Fuck, I’ve been waiting to hear that.”

The sound of his voice makes my pulse spike, and the desire that has been simmering between us finally erupts into something urgent. I pull back slightly to look at him, my eyes locking onto his as I tug his shirt off. The moment his chest is exposed, the dim moonlight catches on the sculpted lines of his body, the muscles flexing under his smooth skin. My hands trace the ridges of his abs, traveling lower, grazing the waistband of his pants, and then finally dipping to the v-line that dips below. My breath catches in my throat as I look up at him, and his eyes are burning with something almost dangerous.

“You’re perfect,” I breathe out, my voice low and full of need.

Liam’s hands travel down my body, undoing the buttons of my shirt with an ease that speaks to how well he knows me. As the fabric slides off my shoulders, I stand before him in nothing but a delicate lace bra, my skin flushed and my heart pounding in anticipation. His eyes drop to my chest, his gaze dark and hungry, and I can’t stop the flush that blooms in my cheeks.

“You’re fucking stunning,” he mutters before his lips crash back onto mine in a kiss that leaves me breathless. I respond, hungry for more, my hands slipping to his belt, undoing it slowly, teasingly, my fingers brushing against the hardness I can feel through his pants. He groans into my mouth, and I smile against his lips as I slide down to my knees before him, feeling the heat of his body against mine.

I look up at him, his body towering above me, and my hands work swiftly to undo his pants. I hear the rustle of fabric, and then he’s free, his cock already thick and hard. I bite my lip, unable to suppress the smirk that tugs at the corner of my mouth.

“Someone’s eager,” I tease, my voice breathy with desire.

Liam’s breath hitches, his hands threading through my hair, pulling me closer. I look up at him one last time before I lean forward, brushing my lips over the tip of his cock. The taste of him is divine, and I slide my tongue along the length of him, savoring the salty, intoxicating flavor.

His hands tighten in my hair, guiding me slowly, and I take him deeper, inch by inch, until I can feel him at the back of my throat. My mouth moves with precision, hollowing my cheeks as I take him in completely, every inch of him filling me. Liam’s breathing becomes ragged as he watches me, his eyes dark and stormy.

“Gods, Y/N,” he groans, his hips thrusting slightly, urging me to take more. I hum in approval, the vibration causing him to shudder beneath my touch. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

I hollow my cheeks, sucking him in deeper, my hand gripping his thick thighs as I let myself fall into the rhythm, sucking and licking in time with his movements. I can feel the tension building between us, the heat intensifying as I take him deeper, pushing him to the back of my throat.

“Fuck,” he curses, and the sound of his voice is raw with need. “I can’t hold back much longer.”

He pulls me off him, and I gasp for air, my lips swollen from the intensity. Without missing a beat, he pulls me up, capturing my lips in a kiss that tastes like fire. He moves with purpose, his hands guiding me onto the bed. His lips travel down my neck, his breath warm against my skin. He’s moving with a controlled urgency, as if he’s trying to savor every moment of this.

He pauses, his eyes darkening as he looks at me with that intense, commanding gaze. “You’re perfect,” he breathes, his hands slipping to the waistband of my panties. In one swift motion, he pulls them off, throwing them aside. He looks down at me, his eyes hungry, and I feel a thrill of anticipation rush through me.

“Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the swell of my breasts. His lips tease along the lace of my bra, and I arch into him, desperate for more. My hands slide into his hair, tugging him closer, urging him on.

Without warning, his lips trail lower, and he places a soft kiss on my stomach before continuing downward. My breath catches as he reaches my inner thighs, his breath warm against my skin. I squirm beneath him, and he chuckles darkly, the sound making me ache with need.

Then, finally, he’s there, his tongue sweeping over my most sensitive part. A gasp escapes my lips, and I feel my body tremble at the sheer sensation of his mouth on me. He’s slow at first, his tongue exploring, teasing, before he presses harder, his lips suckling gently. I can feel the tension building inside me, a knot coiling tight as his fingers slip inside, stretching me as he works me open.

“Liam, please,” I whisper, my body arching into his touch.

He responds with a low groan, his fingers moving faster, harder, as his tongue works in rhythm with his hands. I can feel myself unraveling, the pleasure building to an unbearable height. “Cum for me, baby,” he urges, his voice a breathless command.

That’s all it takes. My body shudders as I reach the peak, and I scream his name, the force of my orgasm taking me completely. Liam doesn’t stop, continuing to stroke me through my release, his fingers pumping slowly, drawing out every last tremor.

When I finally collapse back onto the bed, panting and spent, he moves up beside me, kissing my forehead before trailing his lips down to my neck. His breath is ragged, and I can feel his heart racing as his hands roam over my body, grounding me back in the moment.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing me softly as he brushes his thumb over my lips. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come apart for me.”

I smile up at him, hazy with pleasure, my body still tingling from the aftershocks of my release. I run my finger along his jawline, tracing the lines of his face as I catch my breath.

But there’s no time to recover. He’s not done yet, and as he pulls me closer, I feel his cock pressing against my thigh, hard and ready once more. “You good?”, he asks, looking at me with those big blue eyes. My body responds to him instinctively, nodding and craving more of him.

He pushes my legs apart, settling between them as his tongue tangles with mine in a deep, hungry kiss. I feel the heat of him at my entrance, the weight of him pressing against me before he enters with a single, powerful thrust.

"Oh, fuck!" I cry out, my nails digging into his back, leaving crimson marks that I can’t bring myself to care about. He grins at me, eyes dark with desire.

"I couldn’t hold back," he murmurs, his breath ragged as he pulls out slowly before pushing back in, inch by inch.

I moan in response, my body aching for more. "Faster, please."

He obliges, his thrusts becoming relentless, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. The rhythm of it—raw, urgent—has me gasping for air, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. My hands rake over his back, leaving trails of fire in their wake as he kisses my neck.

But I push him away, a spark of something wild igniting within me. I twist, flipping us so that I’m on top. He smirks up at me, his hands settling on my waist, gripping hard. I move my hair from my face, letting it fall over my back as I use my hands to steady myself, planting them on his abs.

This position drives him deeper, and I’m sensitive, every inch of him sending waves of pleasure through me. "Fuck, you look like a goddess, Y/N," Liam moans, his voice strained, and he helps guide my movements with his hands.

I move faster, hips circling, driving him wild. His moans, raw and primal, spur me on. "That’s so good," he groans.

After a few minutes of blissful, unrelenting rhythm, he flips us again.

"Get on your knees, head down," he orders, voice thick with need. I bite my lip and obey, shivering with anticipation.

His thrusts come from behind, a new angle that has us both gasping. The intensity of it makes me push back, meeting each thrust with frantic urgency. His hands find my arms, guiding them to my back, holding me still as he presses my face into the pillow.

The scent of him—warm, familiar, intoxicating—fills my senses, and then his hand lands on my ass, a sharp slap that has me gasping, a strangled moan escaping my throat. It’s so damn sexy, I can’t help but cry out louder.

He drives into me, relentless, and the pressure builds—faster, stronger—until I’m teetering on the edge.

"Can you come for me, baby?" Liam groans, his hips faltering for just a moment.

"Yes, gods, Liam!" I moan, feeling the waves crash over me as my orgasm hits, intense and overwhelming. Moments later, he follows, his hips stuttering as he spills into me, the weight of his release pushing me over the edge again.

For a moment, we both lie still, breathless, before he gently pulls out and falls back onto the cushions beside me. He takes a deep breath, his body still trembling with aftershocks. I move toward him, resting my head on his chest as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer, his bare skin warm against mine.

“That was fucking incredible,” he mutters, his lips brushing my temple.

I smile against him, my eyes fluttering closed. “It was. So, so good.”

#fourth wing #liam fourth wing #liam mairi #liam mairi x reader #liam mairi smut #liam x reader #fourth wing smut #onyx storm smut #iron flame smut #the empyrean #xaden riorson #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine

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hidden-poet · 5 months ago

Text

Animal

Synopsis: After visiting a bathhouse Logan meets you, and the animal within him starts clawing out.

Warnings: not canon, dark!, non-con, a little bit of romantisation of things that should not be romanticized, kidnapping, Dark!logan(jimmy? james?), dom/sub vibes, spanking, female reader who is described quite a bit, rough sex, graphic sex, basically born with little plot, unedited and written in a couple of hours, dead dove to not eat.

AN: Something awoken within me. I never really cared for Wolverine, but suddenly I am binging all the movies. I don't really understand them so this will definitely not make sense to those who follow the fandom.

Word count: 12, 418

Logan walks through the city. People part as he storms through the path. Hearing the sound of his heavy boots as they thud against the concrete.

If his large frame wasn’t enough to warn off people, his scowl was. He didn’t even know what city he was in. Xavier sends him off to eliminate out of control mutants. Given the urgency, he is often sent without a goodbye, let alone a debrief.

He knew he was somewhere foreign. All the signs were in a different language with the english translation printed small underneath.

One of them read ‘bathhouse’ in bright red neon sign. He looks at the dirt caked under his nails. The final battle with the latest mutant took place in the forest.

He could feel small leaves in his hair, and dried mud clinging to his body.

A nice, hot, relaxing bath may elevate some of the tension he always carried with him, so he walks up the steps into the large stone building.

A lady in a robe greets him. The place is dark, only lit by a few strategically placed lamps. The front counter is placed in the entryway to the baths, and is sectioned by a large maroon colored wall that offers the men bathing privacy.

“How can I help you?” the woman asks.

“I’d like a bath”, he responds. His eyes go to view the bath that beckons him.

“Communal or private?”.

Logan looks around at the men in towels, lounging by the large pool. An elderly man takes off his towel to reveal nothing underneath, and steps into the steaming water.

“Private”, Logan answers, “please”.

She gives him a sly smile, asking him to follow her.

He is brought along the pool where men swam nude, and women who wore thick robes served them drinks, and cigars.

At the back of the communal bathing area there was a long stretch of red doors that were numbered in large golden letters. He follows her to door seven

The woman knocks on the door once before turning back to logan.

“Just through this door when you are ready”. With a sly smile she looks him up and down before returning to her hosting station.

“Ah-yeah, thanks”, he comments.

Muttering under his breath, he twists the door knob and takes a step inside, wanting nothing more than to wash away his adventure.

His hand clinches the door knob, his claws begging to come out upon hearing someone on the other side.

Had someone been following him? Another mutant, buddies with the one he had killed?

He lunges through the door, ready to face anyone willing. It startles him when he sees a young girl.

Your hair was blown out to give it volume, and styled in an effortlessly curled way. Your dress was short and black. The halter neck tied together behind your long neck, and was cut down to the middle of your chest. The thin material only reached your upper thigh. Your lipstick was a dark red, matching your pointed shoes. You looked ready for a club, not a bath.

You push yourself back into a chest of draws, surprised at his entrance.

“shit”, Logan turns from you, training his eyes to the ground. It felt wrong to look at you. “Sorry, i was told to come in here”.

“You were told correctly”, you state, “I am ready for you”.

Your voice was low and seductive, making Logan hard under his jeans.

“Ready for me?” Logan questions. He feels his brows furrow, the sweat that he had accumulated started to run down his forehead.

“This is a bathhouse”,you state, “You got a private room. You get bathed in private rooms”.

You seemed as confused as he was.

He looks at you stunned. His cock ached in his jeans to think of you bathing him. But you were young. Young, pretty, and naive. What were you doing here, giving baths to dirty old men like him. He couldn’t have it. Couldn’t be a part of it.

His other side begged him to have a bath, and enjoy your touch, but he didn’t want to do anything that he would regret. The animal side of him was hard to contain. He was sure you would pull the wrong string, and the restraint he had built would come undone.

He couldn’t even bring himself to bid you goodbye. All his will power went to turning back to the door.

“Wait” you call out. He freezes immediately, and looks over his shoulder at you.

“Is there something wrong with me?” you ask. His heart sunk at your question. He didn’t mean to offend you.

“Am I not desirable enough for you?”, you continue.

“God, no” he states, shutting the door firmly behind him as he turns. He didn’t want anyone passing to see you through the door. “No, you’re anything but undesirable”.

You blush but remain in your seductive composure. Your hand waves him forward, and his feet shuffle to your command.

“Well then stay. If they see you walk out, i’ll get in trouble. Men start walking out of my bathhouse, and they might turf me”, you state.

“Look, baby, I am just looking for a bath,” you eye the water so he continues to explain, “a bath alone. Without the help of a young woman, no matter how they look”.

“You don’t seem the nervous kind”, you provoke.

“I ain’t” he defends.

“How about this, I won’t look”. You spin around and face the wall, covering your eyes with your hand. “You can take a bath without my help, and I won’t get fired. Win, win”.

He thinks about it. With you facing away, and not touching him, what harm could be done? He would be doing you a favor.

“You sure you can restrain yourself?” he flirts.

Your giggle echoes off the wall to his ear.

“I am sure”.

Logan strips, leaving his clothes on the tiled floor, and entering the marble tub centered in the room. The water is steaming, and works to unknot his mussels.

He moans as he sinks into the water.

“Feel good?”, you ask.

His cock twitches at your words. He struggles to keep his voice even as he answers.

“Yeah”.

“I am y/n”, you comment, bringing your hand down to face the red wall.

“Is that your real name?”, he asks. He shouldn’t care what your real name was, but he did.

“Yeah”, you respond. He listens for your heart beat as you answer. It never falters so it was the truth, or a lie that had become the truth. Either way it was good enough for him.

“Logan”, he gives.

“In town for business or pleasure, Logan?”, you ask.

Your butt was three inches from the bottom of your dress. It curved around the material. Logan wanted to jump up from the water, and bite into it.

“Business” he answered absentmindedly. He forces himself to look away and up to the ceiling.

Your heartbeat was even. You weren’t scared of him. It comforted him to know.

“What do you do?”. The question irked him.

“Nothing good”, he spat.

You let out a breathy laugh as if he had told a bad joke.

“Men who do ‘nothing good’ aren’t afraid of young women in bathhouses”, you jest.

“Well I suppose I do bad things for a good cause”, he admits.

Although it never felt like a good cause. Only some of the mutants he killed deserved it. Most of them were only confused and scared. They were too dangerous to be allowed a second chance at reasoning. Like a wild dog, they had to be put down.

It would have made Logan feel better if he didn’t enjoy the fight.

“What bad things for a good cause?”.

Logan slides further into the water, trying to shield himself from your questioning.

‘Is this a bathhouse or a police station?” he bit. His voice was hard, and carried a commanding tone that made your heart skip.

He wanted to apologize, but you beat him to it.

“I am sorry. I am not used to talking to the clients. I overstepped”, you confess.

“Have you worked here long?”.

He wanted to turn the attention back on you, but he chose the wrong path. The last thing he wanted to hear was you admitting to washing men.

The image of you bathing other old men angered him. His claws dug through the bones in his hand, itching to come to the surface.

“A year”. It seemed like you were content in your workplace, but Logan fights to keep his claws under his skin. He splashed his hands under the water, worried that you would turn and see him in his mutated state.

You shuffle slightly, angling yourself so you were always turned to him. You move off the wall, back over to the door. Logan watches you, his body shifting to hide himself if you decide to look. His member was hard under the clear water. He didn’t want you to think he was some sort of pervert.

“Hey”, he calls, watching you move to pick up his clothes. Your hand shielded your eyes to him in the tub, “What are you doing?”.

You separate his room key, wallet from his jean pocket and place them next to his shoes before picking up his clothes, and turning your back once more. Moving to the far wall where a washer and dryer were stored under a sink.

“It’s part of the service. I wash your clothes for you”, you state.

“Just leave them” he commands, “they are fine”.

You ignore him, throwing the clothes in the machine, and starting the cycle.

“You’re paying for it”.

You crouch in your high heels as you dispense the detergent into the washing machine on the floor before rising back up, but you don’t turn. Talking to him through the shared space rather than at him.

“Do you mind if I sit at the vanity?”, you ask him.

“No. Sit where you are comfortable”.

Your eyes train at the walls of the room as you slide along to the vanity set in the corner. You stop just before you get to the mirror, and kick off your heels so you could drag the seat with your foot over to you. You sat facing the wall like a child on time-out.

He notices without your shoes, you were quite small. A small, pretty thing in a house of old men who wouldn’t need to be twice your size to overpower you. It didn’t sit right with logan.

“So, how did you end up here?” he asks.

“What this, a bath house or a police station”, you joke.

He stifles a laugh. He didn’t mind a bit of cheek.

“Fair enough’’, he relents, “Just tell me if any of these old guys ever caused you any trouble?”.

Just as he claws retreat, they shoot back again. If your answer was yes, he was going to find out who, and where after his bath.

But you shake your head no.

“We have a button that calls for help. As soon as I get a bad feeling I press the button and they are thrown out”.

You were intuitive like him. He wondered if it was a survival technique you were forced to pick up. He wanted to know why, but knew it was none of his business.

Instead, he picks up a cloth and runs the cooling water over his skin. He was right, mud stuck to his chest hairs, along with dried blood.

“You, uh, press that button a lot?” he pries.

“Enough times to know when I should”. Your voice had lost its seductive tone as it hardened.

“Maybe you should quit. Do something else”, he suggests.

He would love for you to do something else. Something outside of harm's way. You were a grown woman who could decide what she wanted. He had no right to tell you what to do, but he wanted you to listen to him.

“Only one of us hates their job”.

“You like this?”, his voice came out too angry. Your heart skipped another beat as he raised his voice at you.

“You like touching dirty old men? Help them get off?”, he bites his tongue to the point of blood to stop himself talking to you this way.

“No one gets off. I bathe them and send them on their way. Most of them are just lonely”.

“Lonely”, Logan scoffs, pushing the water away from him. But you were right. Logan was lonely. A dirty, old, lonely man wanting to taste your young flesh.

How many other dirty, old, lonely men wanted to do the same? How many times would you be able to get to the button to press for help before it was too late?

He wanted to protect you. To have his place in protecting you. Something about you drew him in. The animal called for him to throw you over his shoulder, and take you from his place in all his stark naked glory. But you were no one to him. He had only met you by mistake five minutes ago.

Your heart rate was too fast. He had succeeded in scaring you. If his clothes weren’t washing, he was sure you would have kicked him out.

He sighs, bringing his hands to the side of the tub.

“Darl, I am sorry. I just hate to think of a pretty young thing like you here without anyone looking out for you”.

“I look out for me, Logan”, you declare.

He nods his head, almost in disbelief. He rests the back of his head against the hard marble, causing the water to swish as he moves.

“There’s shampoo on the caddy. You should wash your hair. I noticed that some of it was stuck together”, you comment.

He was thrown across the forest floor just last night. He must have taken a harder hit than he realized.

“I can do it if you want?”, you offer.

“No. No. You stay right there” he demands. His hands itched to pull you in the bathtub with him. He wanted you to stay as far away as possible.

As he squirts the small bottle of shampoo into his hands, the washing machine rings out a tune to signal it was done.

“I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer” you declare.

He watches as you move again over to the machine, and kneel to transfer the clothes into the dryer.

Your bare feet make a nice sound against the tiles. Logan notices that your little toes were painted a dark red, and your fingers were perfectly shaped and painted the same color.

He supposed a woman of your profession, maintenance was important. He pretended for a second that wasn’t the case. That instead, you were his little woman.

He had come home after a long day of lumberjacking like he used to do, and you were fussing over him. The thought remained only for a second before he shook it off.

Everyone he loved died. A little thing like you didn’t stand a chance in his life.

“I hope you like the scent of vanilla”, you remark.

He grunts in response, dipping under the water to wash the shampoo out of his hair. It felt lighter as a rose from the water. It was due for a good wash.

He begins with a conditioner while he watches you lean against the counter of the sink instead of returning to your seat. His fingers dug into his scalp, pushing the liquid into his hair.

“Do you have a girlfriend? Is that why you don’t want me to look?”, you ask.

“No girlfriend. No wife. No dog”, he washes the soap from his hands, “I honestly didn’t know what I was signing up for”.

“Are you glad you signed up for it?”, your seductive tone returned from its disappearance.

“The view has been nice”, he returns.

“If you like my back, you should my front”.

His hands curled into fists. If anything had been in his hands, it would have been snapped in two.

“If i see your front, you might not see the light of day again”.

His eyes shut in rhythm with your heart skipping.

“Fuck. no. I didn’t mean” he began to justify but had nowhere to go. He had meant what he said, the way he said it.

“All this talk of protection from dirty, old men. Did you mean you?”.

Your voice didn’t sound scared, but your heart beat faster than it had all night.

Logan rises from the tub with conditioner still weighing down his hair.

“Look, how long until my clothes are ready?”.

“Ten minutes”, you answer.

He couldn’t wait ten minutes. He had to leave now.

“Just give them to me”, he demands.

“There's still ten minutes”, you complain.

“Give them to me, now!” his voice rose at you once more.

You jump as he yelled at you, quickly moving to pull the wet clothes from the machine and throw them backwards towards him.

They don’t go far enough from you and Logan is forced to get too close for his liking to dress himself.

He pulls his wet shirt on himself, the long sleeves stick to his skin as he yanks it on.

“Keep facing forward. Don’t turn around”, he orders.

“But” you begin. He can see you slow movement to turn around so he gently shoves you in the right direction.

“Listen to me. Face the wall”. His voice was angry again, commanding you to stay still.

The jeans didn’t want to go on wet. With his harsh, and quick movements it felt like he was in a fight. He does eventually get them on, only bothering to do up his button and not his zip.

He doesn’t bother putting on his socks. Keeping them in his hand while he picks up his wallet, shoes, and keys from the floor.

The jiggling of the keys gives way to his plan of escape.

“You still have fifteen minutes”, you state not moving from your position on the wall.

He wondered why you cared that he was leaving early. Did you not want him to get away from you? Or where you wondered about his reaction if he found out he was cut short?

“It doesn’t matter”, he barks as he makes a quick bee line to the door.

He pauses once he reaches it. The water pools at his feet as he turns to look at you once more.

“I am sorry” he comments.

He races back down towards the door he came in through. Everybody stares at his dripping state. Some men laugh quietly among themselves. He could still hear your elevated heart beat in room seven.

“Hey! Hey!” a voice calls behind him.

In his agitated state he was ready to rip their head off. He turns to do it to see the lady who greeted him.

“You still pay full price”, she demands.

“Huh? Yeah”. He steamrolled over her to the counter, pulling out his wallet.

His focus turns to the hallway expecting you to appear, but from what he could see your door never opened.

He taps his bank card without looking at the price. Xavier kept him comfortable for his work.

He leaves without approval, bumping back into the crowd of people as he makes his way back on the path.

Soaking wet, and barefoot, he makes his way back to his small apartment.

His claws dig underneath his skin, wanting to come out despite there being no threat. He fails to make it to the bed, laying on the carpet floor instead.

Your name repeats in his mind.

—---------------------------

He tries to forget you for the next three days. He was supposed to be back by now, but he couldn't bring himself to leave.

Xavier called him every hour to be sent straight to voicemail.

Logan walked the city, often finding himself walking along the front of the bathhouse. He never goes in, but listens for your voice, and breathes deep to smell your faint scent.

You didn’t talk much to your clients. A few flirty comments when they first arrived, but then silence as you completed your work.

You didn’t talk to them like you talked to him, and that had to mean something.

The worst part was not knowing exactly what you were doing. He loved to hear the beeping of the machine as you pressed the buttons, because at least that meant you weren’t touching them.

Even in his best efforts he couldn’t manage to walk away. He knows he should. There were plenty of other mutants that needed to be put down.

He should continue with his life, and you yours.

He couldn’t keep you. He could barely keep the kids at the mansion alive, and they all had powers to protect themselves.

He would be throwing you in the line of fire. A fire that he might not be able to protect you from.

You would grow old too. Unless he could figure out a way to keep you young. Could Xavier know of a way? He was sure that he could protect you from everything but time. He would need some help. A connection to someone who could slow down time in adjacent to him.

He grunts as he drives his claw into his right thigh. He lets out a painful laugh as he pounds his fist into the brink building he was hiding behind.

The brick crumbled under his fist. A reminder of what he could do to you without even intending it. He would only need to make a mistake once.

He was worried about protecting you from others, when he should have been worried about protecting you from him.

He was no good for you, even if you would be very good for him. He was destined to live out his life alone. A punishment for his ability.

Maybe a goodbye would help him. If he could leave you with a nice impression instead of an old, dirty man, maybe he could leave.

He crosses the sea of people to the steps of the building. He could hear you as you said goodbye to your client, and drained the water from the tub.

He waits by the bottom of the step until the man came down and passed him before entering.

Was this a place where you made appointments? How long would he have to wait to see you again? He wondered.

It was a different lady at the counter which alleviated some of Logan's anxiety.

She greets him in the same manner as the other lady.

“I was after a private bath with y/n. Would she be available?”.

The woman looks at her computer before smiling up at him.

“You’re in luck. She just finished up. Follow me”.

Logan wished he dressed nicer. Put on some cologne, brushed his hair.

Your scent became stronger the closer he got, it seemed to ease his nerves.

The women knocks three times on the door, and Logan's hand goes to reach for the knob prematurely.

“Just a second”, you call out.

“She won’t be long”, the woman addresses Logan, who drops his hand away.

With a nod and a smile the woman returns to her desk, and Logan waits by the door for you. He ran over what he was going to say, but when you swung the door open he had forgotten his opening line.

“I never expected to see you again” you state.

“Me either”, he responds.

To his surprise you step back from the door to allow him in. He quickly takes the invite, shutting the door behind him.

You were dressed in another black dress. This one had thick straps and an appropriate neckline but an open back that scooped down as far as possible.

“I wanted to apologize”, he expresses.

You tested the running water with your hand as you listened to him.

“You are far from my worst customer”, you revel.

You don’t look at him as you add bubbles to the bath.

“Still, what I said” Logan pauses under your stare before continuing, “What i did was uncalled for”.

You smile a pretty smile at him almost as if you were laughing at him.

“Well, you’re forgiven. Now did you want me to face the wall again?”, you ask.

Logan twists on his spot. “I ain’t looking for a bath. Just to apologize”.

“Have one” you insist.

You walk over to him, taking his belt into your hands. He catches your wrist to stop you from taking it off.

“You got me in trouble last time”, you tell him, “You’re not supposed to walk out scared and wet. If you walk out now in less than a minute they’ll wonder what I did”.

“Well I owe you two apologies”, he states.

“If you're looking to apologize, get in the tub”.

He feels you pull out of his hold, and he lets you make distance so you could spin around.

His self-restraint wasn’t that strong so he rids himself of his clothes and hides under the bubbles in the tub.

Hearing the water splash, you turn to him.

With the weight of his adamantium bones the water rises to the top and you quickly go to turn off the tap.

You kick off your shoes, leaving them at the faucet and walk back up to the top of the tub.

“I can’t see anything”, you console as you kneel down beside him.

He reaches his hand out to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“You’re a world of hurt for me, bub”.

“Your world only lasts fifty minutes”, you tease.

You move out of his touch to go behind him. Your small fingers squeeze his big shoulders. He relaxes under your touch as you work your way along his shoulders to his neck and back.

“Feels good, bub” he praises.

“Feels good?” you repeat.

Your hands trail down his chest, reaching for the top of the water. His hands catch yours before they could immerse under.

“Don’t” he warns.

“Okay. I am sorry” you apologize, tugging your hands free and back up to his neck, “I’ll stay above water”.

He found it hard to relax again. He felt vulnerable, naked under your touch. It would be better if you too were naked. It would make it less embarrassing when you realized he was hard under the water.

“I’ll put your clothes in the wash” you say.

He reaches out behind him for you to stop you moving away.

“No. Keep going”, he protests.

You don’t go to move again. Your fingers continue to massage him until he relaxes once more.

Only then do you stop to reach for the shampoo bottle in front of him. You squirt it into your hands, and then massage it into his head.

He falls back against the tub, loving the feeling of your hands twisting in his hair.

You do it for longer than necessary seeing that he liked it.

Your fingers roll in a circle on the side of his head, causing him to groan at the feeling.

His claws push up, moving the bones of his hands. It was painful every time but Logan had gotten used to the feeling. He flexes his fingers in an attempt to dissuade them from coming through.

You must have noticed the grimace on his face as he forces the metal back into his hand because you stop massaging and reach for the cup to rinse his hair.

You’re careful not to get it into his eyes, smoothing back the hair as the water and soap runs off. He could see why men pay for this.

He takes your hand not holding the cup and forces it against his cheek as he lays back. With his eyes closed he breathes softly against your skin.

“Are you okay?” you ask him.

“I am worried I’ll never be okay again”, he admits.

“You’re tough. I can see it” you flip your hand so your palm is pressed against his cheek, “You’ll be okay”.

You drop the cup next to him, and reach for the conditioner. He is grateful that you allow him to rest against your hand as you massage it into his head.

You try your best to get his whole head but his position made it difficult.

"You know you don’t have a scar over you”, you mention.

“Soft living’”, he jokes, although it was only funny to him.

As you leave the conditioner to soak, you pick up a clean rag and begin to scrub his skin.

Disappointment fills him when he feels you trying to release your hand from under him. He could have kept it stuck there but chooses to raise his head.

You lift up his arm and scrub under his armpit, and along his side. Carefully not to scrub any skin under the water.

You move onto the next and he laughs at you.

“The full treatment here”.

You smile back as you continue to work.

“$300 should get you the full treatment”, you utter.

“$300? Christ, that’s a year's worth of cigars”, he remarks.

“You smoke?” you ask him. He feels your hands push him forward so he leans for you to wash his back.

“Like a chimney” he honestly admits, “You get $300 an hour?”.

You were done with his back so he leans against the tub again.

“No” you state as you reach for the cup that had sunken under the water. You stop yourself before your hand goes under. “Would you mind passing me the cup?”.

“Oh yeah”, he remarks, reaching down into the water and bringing up your cup.

You take it from him and begin to rinse his hair.

“No, I make $150 an hour. The house makes half”.

“Still pretty good. Maybe I am in the wrong line of business”, Logan quips playfully.

“Maybe you are” you jest back, “You never did tell me what you did”.

“I told you. Bad things”, he pulls up out of your hold. He didn’t want to tell you what he did. What he was.

“Are you always this tense?” you ask him.

“Yes” was the short, curt reply.

With a final squeeze of your fingers against his neck, you move down to the bottom of the bath. Slowly you reach for his soapy feet that were propped up against the end of the tub. When he doesn’t object, you take it as permission and begin to massage his feet.

His head makes a heavy thud as it falls back into the marble. It had been a long time since he had ever felt this good.

When he hears you begin to speak, he lifts his head back up to have eye contact with you.

“What made you come back?”, you question.

He feels you apply more pressure to his foot as you ask. Something about the question made you nervous.

“You”, he answers honestly, “i didn’t want you to think I was a prick”.

Your lips curve into a smile at him, and Logan feels his heart twist.

“I didn’t think you were a prick”, you say.

“You’d be the first”, he huffs.

Relief floods him. He wanted to ask if you thought he was a dirty, old man but he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

No more conversation interrupts the peace. Logan allows himself to relax into the water while you dig your fingers into his flesh. He lets out soft groans to let you know that he appreciated what you were doing.

All too soon, your strong fingers stop pushing into the soft flesh of his foot. His head shoots back up automatically out of his relaxed composure.

His wet hair sticks to his forehead, and the steam from the bath had begun to sweat his skin. He looked like a wild animal, while you looked put together as always.

With your make-up perfectly placed and not a hair out of place. He would love to see you disheveled. A whining mess underneath him as he teased another orgasim from you. But tonight would be the last night he would ever see you.

You would go on, find a nice man to marry and have children to. Die of old age when your time comes.

Logan would go his separate way. Keep living well past what he desired. With no purpose, and dying friends.

You rise from your knees, and he watches you as you retrieve a towel from a warming rack and bring it back over.

With your body half turned to him, you hold out his towel.

“Get out and I’ll dry your hair”, you offer.

He takes the towel, and you walk over to your vanity as he rises from the water and wraps the towel around his waist.

He follows you, taking a seat when you tell him to.

You look at him in the mirror as you plug your hairdryer in. Once you began to maneuver the device around his head, your eyes followed but his remained staring at you in the mirror.

Sitting directly in front of you, he could see the actual size difference. You were half of him if that.

You said you looked out for you, but how would that be possible? You weren’t anything special. Were you a mutant too? Or just a naive little girl who had never faced any real danger.

Maybe it would be best if he were to take you. Danger lurks everywhere. He could take you home. Make sure nothing bad ever happened to you.

The bones in his knuckles separated and the metal began to break skin but as the sound of the hairdryer cut, his claws retracted back in.

He couldn’t take you. He was old enough to be your great grandfather. What had happened to him that he was thinking these thoughts? Has loneliness finally caught up with him after a century of being alive?

Your fingers snake up through his hair again, itching his scalp and the thoughts of taking you returned.

“There, all dry” you state.

The sound of a timer goes off, startling Logan who was expecting something wrong from the sudden noise.

“That’s our five minute warning” you tell him.

The forty-five minutes went too quickly. He would never see you again, or at least he had promised himself he would never see you again.

You gather his clothes for him and throw them over a blind.

“You can get dressed behind that”.

He nods his head. Moving quickly to cover himself again.

These thoughts were relentless telling him not to go. She couldn’t stop you from staying, no one could. His conscience told him. But he needed to leave your presence before he did something he couldn’t just apologize for.

Maybe some distance would help. He had been away from home too long. He just needed to return home and live comfortably for a while. Focus on the kids at school.

He makes sure his jeans were properly done up, and that his shirt and jacket were the right way before returning from behind the blind.

You were by the vanity chair, back on your knees with his shoes next to you.

You smile at him and pat the chair. Telling him without words to come to you.

He follows your request sitting down in front of you. You came up to his thigh in height.

“I can do it” he states.

“Full service” you reply.

He feels the wood of the chair cracking under his hands so he moves it to the top of his thigh in a tight ball.

You’re gentle as you place the socks on his feet, followed by his shoes. You even do up the laces for him despite the end timer going off two minutes prior.

You rise from the floor, taking his hand to lead him to the door.

“Will I see you again?” you ask him.

“No” he promises but taking another look at you, he wonders if he can follow through.

“Well, goodbye then, Logan”, you gently say.

“Goodbye, y/n” he returns.

He tears himself away from your door, walking the same quick pace back to the front counter where he throws his card on the desk and pushes his way back into the busy street.

His instinct told him to go back, he had to fight against it the whole way home.

—--------------------

He thought distance was the answer, but his heart ached to go get you. No amount of alcohol or pills satisfied it.

Everyone knew something was wrong. He got sick of everyone asking him what happened on his trip. If he was okay. If he wanted to talk.

He had gotten more aggressive than usual. Things that he could normally brush off, now end with someone pinned against the wall by their throat.

Xavier tried his best to get into Logan's head but his resolve would not soften. No one would understand how he felt. No one would justify the measures he was willing to go.

He booked a flight only a month later. Every day was spent thinking of you until he broke. He was a hero. Saved people daily. What was one life if it meant he was able to save countless others.

He books a room, the closest and cheapest to the bathhouse. He could smell you from here now that he had locked onto your scent.

The old bed creaked under his weight as he struggled with himself. With his head in his hands, he grumbled to himself.

He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be thinking these things to himself. It wasn’t too late to turn around. Nothing had been done that couldn’t be undone.

But then he heard it. Your sweet voice welcoming a man into your door. His feet took off before he could stop them. It was only a short distance of a block to the bathhouse.

The street was busy no matter the time of day, but much like when he first walked down it people parted to let him through.

When he grips the door knob it shatters underneath his hand. So he is more gentle when he pushes the door open.

A new woman greets him cautiously but he ignores her going straight to your room. The woman yells at him as he walks. One brave man tried to stop him and ended up thrown half a meter into the pool.

No one bothers him after that. He could hear the water move as you washed the man.

Knowing he will break the door knob, he instead pushes the door open, snapping the lock.

You gasp hearing the impact, and look at him startled. The position was compromising. You were sitting back on your heels scrubbing the man's back wearing the same halter neck slut dress that you wore when he first met you.

“Logan?” you question, “What are you doing?”.

The man rises from the tub, unashamed by his naked state.

“Get out”, Logan growls.

“Listen buddy, I paid the full-” the man stops his sentence when the claws emerge from logans hands.

You shrink back to the floor, using your hand to keep you upright.

“Get out”, he repeats.

This time the man scrambles to the door, running past Logan without his clothes.

You try to follow suit but Logan's long claws block you from your exit.

You stare at the shiny metal, your face reflecting back at you.

“You’re coming with me”, Logan states, putting away his claws so he could take you by the arm.

“Let go of me” you beg, trying to pull your arm from his grip.

He leads you to the chaos of the bathhouse. Word had spread that a mutant had entered the building and now people ran for cover.

“Let go. No!”, you scream.

You pull your arm too harshly in his hold, he could hear the muscles in your arm straining under the pressure. He loosens his grip so not to hurt you, but brings you closer to his chest.

“Stop it, kid” he demands, “You’re going to hurt yourself”.

“Stop, logan. Please, just let me go”. Your heart was fast, and your eyes dripped with tears.

He reaches up to touch your face but a gunshot pierces his body before it lands. An annoyed groan rubbles from his throat, and he pushes you away from the line of fire.

Another bullet lands in his chest when he turns to see a man in a robe holding a shaking gun.

He dodges the next shot, stalking forward to the frozen man, he grabs the gun out of his weak hold and sends him to the floor with a headbutt.

Tossing the gun aside, he turns to see you no longer in your spot. You couldn’t have made it to the door in that short of time, and your scent was still strong in the room.

He follows it behind the bar to where he saw you squeezed into a tight corner.

“Hey, bub” he tries his best to use a soft voice, “we gotta go. Come on”.

He reaches for you, but you push his hands away.

“Come on” he says more forcefully. He reaches for your waist and not your arm to avoid hurting you.

You thrash against him, begging him to let you go.

He allows it until you reach the front door then he extracts a single claw from his hand that crossed your stomach.

“Walk” he demands.

He manoovers himself so he was behind you with a hand on your stomach and his claw pressed into your side.

You allow him to walk you down the steps and through the crowd, back to his apartment. You were too scared to say anything. Some people gave you a strange look as you passed them crying but no one stopped to help.

“You’re alright. I ain't going to hurt you”, he promises.

He would never hurt you. As soon as you had managed to make your way through the crowd, Logan retracts his claw completely, instead placing both his strong hands on your hips to keep you moving forward.

“Almost there. Atta girl, just keep moving”. He encourages.

The dim lights of his hotel came into view. The vacancy sign buzzed allowing small flashes of light in an otherwise dark street.

He could see fine given his heightened ability, but knew that your lack of senses must be adding to your anxiety.

“Alright, this way”, he takes your wrist into his hand, trusting that you would follow him up the metal stairs.

Your heel snagged on the step. Without Logan's hold you would have been sent flying forward.

“Sorry” you gasp, trying to let him know that it was an honest stumble and not a deliberate act on your part.

“Are you hurt?”, he steps down to your level, throwing your arm over his shoulder while he bends down to take off your shoes, “Let's take these off”.

He holds them in his hand, and your waist in the other and continues to lead you up.

“Come on, we are almost there. Just down the end”.

You reach the top of the stairs and he leads you to the end of the corridor. Stopping at the door that peeled with paint while he digs in his pockets for his key.

He opens the door, quickly pushing you inside and shutting it again.

“Here sit” he suggests.

With his hands off you, he turns on the bedside lamp so you could see.

You do take a seat on the bed, and Logan stands in front of you.

“You’re a mutant?” you finally say.

“Yeah” he admits with a hard tone.

“Are you going to kill me?”, you whisper.

“Christ, no”, he kneels down in front of you so he could be in your eyesight, his hands caged around your legs on the mattress.

“Y/n, I am one of the good guys”, his own words froze him. His eyes cast down to where your dress has risen dangerously high up your thigh. His finger traces up from your knee to your dress hemline.

“Not that you are going to believe that after I am done with you” he says more to himself than you.

“What are you going to do?”, you quake.

He rises himself enough to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Whatever I want”, he whispers against your lips.

He pushes you as gently as he can into the mattress. Using his body weight to cement your place under him.

“Get off”, you complain the second his lips are off you.

“I can’t” Logan protests. His lips go to your neck, biting down harshly. He intended to leave a mark. A claim of sorts for the world to see.

He may have bitten down too harshly, as you push against his face with your hands.

He can hear your heartbeat as it thumps in your chest. It stills him in the crook of your neck.

He didn’t want to scare you.

“I am sorry”, he admits softly into your skin.

He places a soft kiss on the sore he had just created, and reaches to untie the knot of fabric around your neck.

Your hand reaches up to catch the fabric as it falls, holding it over your breasts.

He moves on, hooking his fingers around the elastic of your underwear, and pulling them off onto the floor.

“It’s alright, just breathe”, he concludes.

You keep your eyes shut, and your breaths manic.

In an effort to make you more comfortable, he lifts you up by your armpits and places you in the center of the bed. He changes positions to match yours, straddling you on the bed while he moves the pillows under your head, and by your sides.

You lay there frozen with your eyes squeezed shut, while he removes his clothes on top of you.

You feel his attention return when his lips press down on yours, his hand gently on the side of your face.

“Open your eyes, and look at me”, he commands in a low whisper.

You are met with his face, and bare shoulders peering over you.

“There she is”, he grins a beautiful smile as he brushes his thumb along your cheek.

His lips go to yours again before trailing down to your neck, and chest.

His hands met your on the fabric of your chest, and he tugs it down, bunching the dress around your hips.

A kiss is placed at the top of your breast activating your fight.

You tried to push against him but he was too heavy to even shift.

“Easy” he tells you, “take it easy. It’s alright”.

He comes back up to your face, and begins to stroke your face with his finger again.

“Settle down”, he breathes.

“Logan, please just let me go”, you beg.

“I tried to,” he admits, “but I've never been much of a quiter”.

He kneads the flesh of your breast in his hand, and grows darker at the thought of not completing what he wanted to do.

“Now you’re going to relax and let me take care of you, or I'll tie you to the bed”.

You don’t move again as Logan trails down your body to slide the bunched fabric of your dress down.

He nestles between your thighs next, keeping a strong grip as he inserts himself into you.

He groans as you accept him. Despite your protests you were warm, and wet for him.

He places his hands on stomach feeling the skin that had been hidden from him for so long.

“Please keep your hands away from me”, you shudder. You curl into yourself as much as you could, scared that the blades would come out and pierce into you.

He takes his hand off your stomach, per your request.

In an act to show you he had no intention of hurting you, he releases his claws, and drives them into the mattress either side of you. He feels as they push through the fabric to the bed frame.

“I would never hurt you” he promises.

He keeps his weight on his hands as he thrusts into you. Your hand remained on your chest until they sprang out to his shoulder in an attempt to control the pace.

He slows down until he is at a pace where you no longer push on his shoulder.

As he continues you find yourself building, so you turn away and bury your head into your pillow.

You hear as his claw is pulled from the mattress, and feel his tight grip as it latches around your chin. He pulls your face back to his direction, resting his forehead on top of yours.

You feel his quick breaths on your skin, and breathe them in.

His eyes were closed, but one hand now held your face in place, and the other held your hip down.

You gasp when you feel yourself cuming around him. A low growl makes its way to your ear but you were more focused on Logan fucking you through your orgasm.

Your nails become claws when he doesn’t stop. You make weak sounds, but no words as he thrusts into you.

“You can take it” he says, somehow knowing what you were trying to say.

His hold on your chin becomes hurtful as he reaches his end. You yank at his fingers trying to pry them off but your fingers slip from the force you were trying to use and makes no difference to him.

A loud moan tells you he was done before you felt the warm substance drip from you.

With a smaller, satisfied groan he opens his eyes to look at you. The same smile appears on his face preceding a deep kiss to your lips.

He doesn’t remove himself from you but loosens his hand on your chin, and hip.

You feel his body weight as he rests his head back on your forehead. He was conscious to keep his weight off you, yet the skin he pressed against yours, pinned you to the mattress.

“You alright, princess?” he pants.

You don’t answer him, and he kisses you in your silence.

By the third time you are fucked dumb. You have a glazed look in your eye, and your body is weak against his. He uses you like a toy. Kissing you, and fucking you while you lay there with little energy left.

His stamina and quick recovery times meant that once was never enough to satisfy him. You would lay quietly next to him for only a few minutes before he was ready to go again.

You whine as he approaches you again, not ready for yet another round.

He lays on top of you, gently caging your head between his arms as he whispers “I know, I know”.

He did know. When you began to cry from overstimulation, he felt terrible but couldn’t bring himself to stop. He wasn’t anywhere near his peak, and your pussy clenched so nicely around him.

“Don’t cry”, he begs, “sh, don’t cry”.

You wouldn’t listen. He wasn’t sure if you could even hear him in your state, but he continued to talk anyway.

“Sh, its alright. Feel good there?”, he asks as your hips buck against him.

“Feels good there, hey baby”, he targets the spot that makes your hips buck, and you latch on to his strong shoulders with your nails.

“Pretty girl like you should always feel good. Can I be the one to always make you feel good?”.

No more fresh tears sprang from your eyes, but the path was still wet, and a large tear balanced on the outer corner of your eye.

He moves his hands closer, using his thumbs to brush off the water.

“No more crying, hey bub”.

You turn your head away from him, resting your forehead on his bicep. He turns his attention to applying the right amount of force between your legs.

He gives you a bigger rest time between the next one. Despite, him roaring to go again.

You lay pressed against his side, half-asleep. He slung his arm over the top of your pillow, waiting for you to recover.

Your lipstick was worn off from his ferocious kissing, and your hair had come undone around you.

You open your eyes to look up at him, and he takes it as a sign that he could continue.

He takes your chin into his hand to keep it still as he slides down in the bed next to you.

“No. That’s enough”, you demand, trying to wiggle your head from his hold.

“Just one more” he promises, “I just need one more”.

He kisses you as he hooks your leg over his hip. Reaching back to guide himself into your swollen pussy. You fit together like a jigsaw piece, another reason why all of this was meant to be.

He liked the intimacy of the position, pushing against your lower back to force you closer. He holds his hand there as he thrusts into you, keeping you from wiggling away.

You rest your head on his chest, and arm over his neck taking what he gives you.

His pace is gentler than it had been all night. Slow, controlled thrusts that rocked your body rather than shook it.

His arm under your head kept you level with the large man, but also meant that every moan, and whimper went straight into his ear.

It was encouraging for him to hear you reluctantly enjoying yourself. He only wanted to bring you pleasure never pain.

You groan softly as you cum again, and it triggers his own orgasm.

When he was done with you for the final time, you collapse into the mattress without Logan's body scaffolding yours.

He brushes the hair that had fallen over your face away with his large palm, and lays flat on the bed.

“Come here” he requested, opening his arms for you.

With eyes closed you shuffle to his chest where he pulls you just over his heart. You fall asleep almost instantly, but Logan remains awake gently stroking your hair.

He had been called an animal all his life, but tonight was the only time he truly felt like it.

—-------------------

You woke the next morning to the sound of his voice,

“Hey bub, hey, come on, we have to get going”.

You feel him smooth his palm over the side of your face, and you knock it away. It felt like knocking your hand against an immovable metal pole.

Last night ruined you. You weren’t sure you could rise from the bed if you wanted to.

“I am not going anywhere with you”, you state.

He had taken what he wanted. The deal now was to leave you in peace.

The next sound of his claws unsheathing and digging themselves into the mattress next to you made your eyes sprung open in shock.

“Get up, now”, he demands. He was eager to get home and get you settled in.

Xavier would get involved if Logan was absent for too long. A week here and there was nothing unusual but Xavier knew Logan too well to ignore any strange behavior.

He passes you your dress as you rise, and you quickly place it on, looking for your panties next. Watching you put them back on made Logan want to take them back off but the plane was departing soon.

The short, black dress was definitely more night time appropriate. You stand trying to cover your chest with your folded arms.

He takes off his jacket, passing it to you as he speaks.

“How far is your place from the bathhouse?” he asks.

“Not far, a block”, you answer. You take the jacket off him and zip it up over your dress.

It smelt of him, and his cigars.

“Come on”. He says, taking your arm and tugging you behind him as he left the apartment.

“I can get there myself”, you fought.

“Kid, we haven’t got time”. He moves his grip to a harsher one on your upper arm, and half carries you in the direction he wanted you to go in.

Your heels click behind him down the steps. He detours to drop his room key back to reception before continuing on the path back to your work.

He is silent as he backtracks to the bathhouse. The street is much busier during the day. People stare as you pass them looking.

When the Bathhouse comes into clearing he can feel you pull against him trying to get him to stop.

He halts of his own accord, peering down at you in the middle of a busy street.

“I need to get my keys and phone from work”.

“I can get through the door. Don’t worry about that”, he shakes you slightly, getting impatient with the lack of direction, “Which way?”

You point to the left, and take the led back to your house.

The streets thin as you weave your way out of the center of the city, and into the residential block. Everything was old and run down.

Broken, smashed cars lined the streets, graffiti was sprayed on every covering, people kept to themselves not even looking out the window as you passed.

He follows you until you stop at a run down apartment block.

“This is it”, you state.

“Upstairs”, he orders but you don’t move.

“Let me go or I'll scream”, you threaten.

“And I’ll kill anyone that comes. Upstairs”.

You were yet to learn that Logan had reservations about killing needlessly, especially non-mutants, so you admit defeat and wander down three apartment blocks to your actual home.

The bar was low, but your apartment block was the nicest in the street. No graffiti or broken windows. A nice, clean brick that reached three stories and opened to a nice fourier.

There was no elevator but there was only one flight of stairs up to your apartment.

You show him your door labeled 2A, telling him there was no way to get it open unless he took you back to the bathhouse.

He ignores you, placing his hand on the knob and giving it a gentle push that breaks the lock.

Your heart rate picks up faster, which worries Logan as it was already quite high.

He lets go of your arm to allow you to go in first, and shuts the door behind him.

It was a one bedroom apartment, with a small open kitchen that opened to a small space that had to be chosen to be a living room or a dining area.

You had chosen a living room with a green couch sat in front of a small rectangular table.

“You can take what you want. I have some jewelry in the food cupboard”, you state.

“This isn’t a hold-up”, he grumbles, “Come here”.

He goes to your bedroom, listening to your feet following him.

He goes to your closet to see your luggage bag stored up top. He takes it down, and begins throwing items into it.

‘What are you doing?”, you begin to panic seeing him stuff your suitcase with your clothes.

“Do you have a passport?”

“Why?”

The plane was departing within the hour. He had no time to answer obvious questions.

“Do you have one?”. He reiterates.

“No”. Your heart skips a beat as you lie.

“Go get it”, he demands.

“I don’t want to”, your voice was quiet and strained.

He knew he should have taken a softer approach. To be uprooted overnight would be a hard thing for anybody.

Yet still, his claws dig through at your resistance.

“Go get it”, he said in a lower tone.

His blades work to persuade you, and you move quickly to your bedside table to retrieve it.

He zips up your suitcase, holding out his hand for your passport. You pass it to him, taking a step back once it's in his hand.

Checking it’s valid, he puts it in his back pocket alone with his.

“Logan, I can keep a secret” you say, “I would never tell anyone about you”.

“That’s nice, bub. Go change”, he nods to the wardrobe behind him which you take a pair of jeans, and a singlet from.

You were too quick to the bathroom, so he stops you before you enter.

“Ah” he tuts.

He takes a look inside first to check for windows. There was only a small one with a security screen so he allowed you to pass and shut the door on him.

After a frustrating phone call in which he was misunderstood twice, he manages to order a taxi to the airport, and knocks on the door to let you know it was on its way.

You open the door a different person. Your makeup was all wiped off, and your hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

The confident seductive was replaced with this fragile girl-next-door type. He didn’t think it was possible to love you anymore.

You hand out his jacket to him which he takes but opens it to wrap around your shoulders.

“Keep it. It looks good on you”.

“Logan-” you begin but he cuts you off.

“Sh” he dismisses taking your head into his hands, “it’s alright. I know”.

“But-” you try.

He sh’s you again, “Don’t think. Just come with me”, he begs.

Moving his hands from your head to your wrist he takes you back outside the bathroom to where your bag lay waiting by the door.

You don’t know why but you follow his direction to put your sandals on your feet, and follow him down to the street and into a taxi.

Your head reels as the car drives. The taxi is silent, only the sound from the radio plays. Logan holds onto your thigh while he looks out of the window.

You stare at his hands, wondering where the blades went when they were retracted.

You think about telling the driver but one man was no match for Logan.

The man pulls into the drop off station, and gets out to get your luggage.

Logan turns to you in the car, demanding your attention from his eyes alone.

“Are you going to save us both some time and be a good girl, or do we need to go over what will happen if you draw attention?”.

You shake your head ‘no’.

“Good girl, let’s go”.

Logan goes out the same door you do, instantly taking your hand in his in the busy station.

He pays the man, and takes your suitcase for you.

“Where are we going?”, you request.

Logan joins the back of the line for check-in’s

“New York”, he gives.

“What's in New york?” you ask him.

“Home”.

You flex your hands in his, trying to get it free.

“I am going home with you?”, you implore.

He nods, not looking at you.

“You said you were one of the good guys”, you remind him.

“I told you, I am a good guy that does bad things”.

His fingers clench around yours in a painful hold. Your eyes fill up with fresh tears. You knew Logan wouldn’t hurt you, but he was a stranger, a mutant, who had taken you from your home, and planned to place you in his.

“Don’t cry. Not here”, he demands.

He moves his body to shield you from prying eyes, as you try your best to conceal your panic.

A gentle hand rubs your back as you move up in line.

The girl at the counter notices your red eyes, and asks if you are okay.

“She’s a nervous flyer” he lies.

The woman ignores him, asking you the question again.

The hand you held had blades that came out on command so you nod your head in agreement.

“I’ll be fine once we are up in the air” you say.

The woman hands Logan the tickets, and you make your way over to the security screening.

Logan seemed amazed you had lied for him.

He kisses your head, thanking you for not causing a scene.

He lets you go easy when you reach the security point, letting you walk through the metal detector.

You eye the security and their guns, but you watched Logan get shot at point blank. Would their guns even dint him?

The metal detector beeps when Logan walks through. For a second, you think that you will find out if their guns work on him when a security officer closes in.

“Easy there, big guy”, Logan takes a slip of paper out of his pocket to show the man, “I have a metal hip”.

The man takes the pass over to his supervisor. You wonder if they know something is wrong as they talk, but the manger looks relaxed, and with a wave of his hand the pass is given back to Logan, and you get the go ahead.

Logan slings his arm over your shoulder past the security who don’t take a second glance.

“You have metal in your hands?” you whisper the question to him.

“I have adamantium in my entire body” he explains, “It’s a type of metal”.

You feel amazed at the news. A whole body of metal reinforcing him to be the most dangerous man you had ever met.

The most dangerous man you had ever met took you over to a cafe stand. Buying you, and himself a roll and coffee.

You never would have guessed the man you met at the bathhouse harbored such a secret. How many other clients were mutants too, or was he the only one.

“It’s gettin’ cold”, he says noticing you staring at him.

You accept his gift, starving after last night.

The rest of the time until boarding was silent. Only then did the sense of dread kick back in.

“Please”, you beg.

“I am sorry. Get on the plane”. His voice was soft, but you could hear no sound of true sympathy from it.

He keeps you in front of him as the attendant checks the tickets, and you find your seats.

You were the only two on your row, right at the back of the plane.

Logan settles into the seat beside you, doing up his seatbelt, and checking yours.

The cabin crew begin their safety speech. Your eyes were trained out the window, not looking at them. You hoped the plane crashed.

When the plane began moving at a fast pace, Logan checked your seatbelt again, pulling on it to make sure it was tight across your lap.

You look at him. He was tense again, and shut his eyes when the plane took off.

When it stabilized he let out a breath of air, and opened his eyes, falling back into his seat.

“Afraid of flying?” you ask surprised.

“If god wanted us to fly, we’d have wings”, he quips.

“And if god wanted us to have blades in our hands, we would”.

Logan's hands ball into fists. He was a freak in your eyes.

“One day I’ll explain what happened to me”, he promises.

“What else can you do? You’re strong, hard, body full of metal”, you start, “and that man. He shot you”.

“Baby, I can do alot of things”, he dismisses.

“Like what?” you push.

“Maybe now is not the time to be discussing this”. He says looking around at other passengers. Most of whom already had their earphones on.

“What do you want with me?”, you implore.

“Now’s really not the time to be discussing that” He grits.

“One of the good guys” you remind him.

“I'll settle for being an okay guy. Stop talking” he growls.

You turn back to the window away from him the rest of the flight.

You watch as the clouds below you turn orange, and then black. Logan passes you a food tray from the stewardess and you eat it in silence.

It must have looked odd to the stewardess. Neither you or Logan played with the screen in front of you. Just sat there with grim expressions on your faces.

Lights turn off as the cabin goes to sleep. You were nowhere near ready with the adrenaline pumping through your body.

Logan takes his blanket from the wrapper and lays it over your shoulder.

“You should sleep,” he says.

“Is that how it's going to be from now on? You telling me what to do” , you snap.

Logan turns away from you, facing to the front.

“It was just a suggestion”.

You run your hands over your face wondering what sort of keeper he was going to be.

“I need to pee” you say.

He unbuckles his seatbelt to get up out of your way but you couldn’t wait for him. You’re fighting to get past him as he tries to stand.

He grabs your waist to maneuver you but the touch sends rage through your body.

You scream in his face. A loud ear piercing scream that turned everyone’s attention on you.

Logan quickly let go, slumping back into his seat under the stare of other awake passengers.

You rush to the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

The tight space allows you to breathe.

Washing your face with cold water, you decide it is time to return to your seat.

Logan waits for the sound of a turning lock before he jumps from his seat to catch you as you exited and push you back inside.

He is quick to lock the door behind him.

Three, quick, firm smacks are placed on your bottom as he pushes you against the sink.

It stings when he sits you on the counter, and stands between your legs.

“Are you crazy, bub? Acting like that”, he scolds.

You try to move him out between your legs, but he pushes your knee down as you move your leg.

“Don’t you ever misbehave like that again”, he warns.

“Or what?”. He had already taken everything from you, and you trusted him enough to know he wouldn’t really hurt you.

His angry stare didn’t scare you, but when his hands reached for the button of your jeans your heart rate spiked.

“I gotta fuck the stupid out of you?” he spat.

“Get off” you demand.

You scream in his face again when his hand continues to unhook the button.

He is quick to quieten you, clamping a hand over your mouth. Your head hits the mirror from the force.

He secures your hands behind your back with a single hand when you begin to hit him. It caused you more pain than him, it felt as if you were hitting against a brick wall.

The force knocks out his necklace that he had never worn before. A rectangular pendant dangles as he moves. You could see it was inscribed but the writing was too small to make out.

“Is that how it’s going to be from now on? Me telling you what to do. Yeah. I think fucking so”, he grunts.

“Now don’t scream” he orders.

The hand over your mouth is removed as he uses it to tug down your jeans, and then his own.

You know you should scream, make some sort of noise that would alert the others, but desire pooled with him between your legs.

Your emotions were too complicated to unpack so you allowed him to take your pants off your legs.

He throws them to the floor, but keeps your panties in his hands.

You see why when he brings them to your lips, and forces them in your mouth. He clamps his hand back over to keep you from spitting them out.

He sighs as he enters you.

“You know, you don’t need to act stupid to get my attention”, he grunts as he rocks into you.

Your toes curl feeling him inside of you. He fit so completely that you were building from just clenching around him.

“Don’t cum. I’ll tell you when”, he says.

You muffle a protest against his hand, but it was met with no sympathy.

“Don’t you fucking cum or I’ll put you over my knee for ten more”.

Your ass still stung from the three he gave you so you delayed yourself the best you could.

He picks up his pace, slamming into you quickly, and hard. You hear his chain clink as he moves.

“Okay now”, he directs.

Your thighs shake as you clench around him.

His hand drops to allow you to regain your breath, bringing your pants from your mouth as he did.

He pants in unison with you, only he is quicker to regain his resolve. Your head was still reeling while he re-buttons his jeans.

He shakes his head as if he was trying to snap out of the trance he was in.

It seemed to have worked as he was gentle when he slid your underpants back on.

It was as if two people lived inside of him. One was sweet, and gentle, the other impulsive, and violent.

You weren’t sure which one turned you on the way it did.

He looks at you with those remorseful eyes. You should hate him but yourself wanting to comfort him. You knock it down to Stockholm and square your shoulders against his.

“Let me take a look at you”. He turns your face in his hand and smooths back your hair from your face with his other hand.

He checks to make sure you are okay. You didn’t look to be crying or in any pain.

“You right, Bub? You going to be good for me from now on?”, he asks.

You take the necklace out of his shirt. He doesn’t move to stop you, letting you read his dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ in capital letters and Howlett in smaller letters below. A series of numbers trace the bottom.

You flip it, feeling the indents on the other side, and run your finger over the name.

“Wolverine” you read, “like the animal?”.

He takes his tags from your hand and tucks them back under his shirt.

“Yeah, like the animal”.

#Dark!logan #dark!wolverine #logan howlet smut #logan howellt x you #dark logan howlett

375 notes · View notes

lovelykil · 9 months ago

Text

heart eyes─

ᯓ izuku midoriya

note; this was inspired by a cai bot :3 I lowkey rushed at the end. I am very sleepy 😔

everything was fine.. before Izuku got hit with a villain's peculiar quirk in a fight you and a few of your classmates participated in.

when you saw him cry out in pain you quickly punched the guy you were fighting and passed him to the cute doe-eyed girl.

"ah-! Wait Y/-"

"give him a final blow Uraraka!" You yelled out as you ran toward Midoriya. Uraraka watched as you dashed over to the hurt teen with the stunted man in her arms. Her curious eyes widened, but she was brought back to reality when the villain gained back consciousness.

"oh, right!"

you swiftly did a run and slide over to his injured self and immediately began to check on him. The villain that used their quirk on him was far gone, they ran from the scene with a cheeky laugh. You looked over at the disappearing villain and cursed,

"crap she got away.." as you grumbled you heard Izuku mumble something in pain, he groaned picking his head up. Your hand remained on his back when you quickly turned around.

"Oh Midoriya, are you alr—"

"I.. don't feel so good.." He looked up at you with his eyes sealed closed and his brows knitted together in pain.

"what did she do to you— oh?" Your eyes dilated in shock when he fluttered his eyes opened. His pupils were now.. heart shaped?

It took him a moment to adjust to his environment, his eyes shifted a few times before they landed on you. That's when his eyes began to dilate.

"oh wow you're so prettyy.. hahahaa." His speech was a little slurred as if he was drunk, he seemed like a completely different person when he spoke to you. You felt your cheeks warm up.

"What the???"

"and that's the last of them! I shall inform the police we have captured these hooligans." Iida adjusted the sticky tape thanks to sero, wrapped around the remaining villains. All four of them looked embarrassed and irritated they got their ass beaten by a bunch of teenagers.

uraraka came in to join on the surface after successfully restricting that one villain you passed on to her, she held onto sero's tape that was wrapped tightly around the villain and held it like a balloon. "and there's another, release!" The villain came crashing down on the hard ground with a thud while uravity landed quite delicately on the hard surface.

the three students smiled in contentment at one another, they served their amount of justice for today it seemed, and were ready to head back to their dorms.

"the cops will be here shortly!" Iida exclaimed as he set his phone away from his ear.

"greaatt, can't wait to head back now! I'm starvin'." Sero rubbed his tummy with a relieved smile.

"awesome! Now— oh wait deku and Y/n! I saw her rush over to him I'm not sure what happened but it seemed urgent." The doe-eyed girl looked around for you and quickly spotted two bodies, you and izuku.

"they're over there!" She pointed and started forward. Sero followed along quickly after but Iida stayed to watch the villains, he watched in the distance with a worrisome face.

"Y/n! Is everything fine? We captured all the villains and—" both of the two heroes stopped in their tracks once you turned around in a very eerie manner at their voices. Your head turned slowly to reveal Izuku with his arms around your neck and him desperately trying to kiss you. Your face was a mess of a red shade as well as dark and disturbed.

the two heroes who came to save you watched in shock, Uraraka even blushed herself she was even more surprised.

"help... me..." You croaked out dramatically. Something traumatizing for sure happened when those three were out fighting and you were left alone with izuku.

"WHAT HAPPENED??" In unison, sero and uraraka yelled out, stunned at the sight.

. . .

after taking izuku to the nurse she sent him back, he wasn't really injured but affected by a quirk .. so she couldn't do much to help the boy only thing she mentioned was "the quirk will eventually wear off within maybe a day so it would be better if he rested to cause nomore.. drama."

"I'll make sure he gets to his dorm since he apparently doesn't want to let go of me." You try your hardest to push the green-haired boy away but his grip around your arm is too strong. You groan.

uraraka and sero chuckle together, "hopefully the quirk will go away when he wakes up."

"yeah, let's pray." You nonchalantly reply with a grin, you turn around after giving those two a wave. They wave back and watch you disappear with Izuku still so close to you.

"I wonder what that villain's quirk was and has deku acting like that.." uraraka mumbles with her hand to her chest, her eyebrows knit, she was worried.

sero pats her back for comfort, "he'll be fine! He's gone through much worse anyway." uraraka's worried eyes soon change as she gazes up at him, her hand falls momentarily. "I guess you're right."

. . .

"and we're finally here..." You finally let out a sigh of relief now being in izuku's room. Your head lifts itself up and your met with so much all might merch. Your eyes dilate.

"oh boy."

I forgot he is such a fanboy... you say to yourself.

izuku suddenly drags you over to his bed by the arm, you hadn't had time to even take in his room and he was already starting his bullshit caused by that damn quirk... that love quirk you now know of.

"ahg-! Izuku?!" He places you onto his bed with no time to spare, it's like he was waiting.. to do this. He pushes your body down on his sheets with his strong hands as he slowly climbs on top of you.

you don't have time to hide your blush, you don't have time to even process this situation anyway !!! Your cheeks were so hot you were practically boiling.

he had put you in a pot and was going to eat you ALIVE.

"y/n.. I.. I'm sorry I can't really help it, it's like something inside of me.. just really wants you." His heart-shaped pupils stare right into your shocked ones. His voice was so low and whiney as he apologized it made you gulp hard.

temptation was getting to you.

you've always liked him and for some time really, but you never told him,, only because you guys were focusing on becoming heroes and because you guys were good friends. You didn't wanna ruin anything.. but apparently now, that didn't seem to matter.

izuku was quite literally in between your legs now, his hot breath you could feel on your lips drove you crazy. He was so close.

"izu.." You breathe out, your eyes narrow down to his lips then to his love sick eyes.

his hand makes it to your warm cheek and caresses it lightly with his thumb. His other hand sneaks it's way onto your waist, after that you immediately folded he's got you now.

anything he says now you'll obey.

shit.. your eyes dart away, flushed as ever.

"aw come on, look at me sweetheart." His sweet voice rings in your ear. Your head turns almost immediately and he smiles.

"you're so cute when you get nervous you know?" His hand on your waist starts to slide up and down as he whispers to you. You choke out

this was to much, you wanted to escape, run away, something! But then again you wanted him to kiss you so badly, you were practically dying for it to happen already.

"I.. uhm" He simply smiles once again, watching you struggle to say something. His heart-shaped eyes looked to soften in size as he gazes upon you. Oh how so cute you look, it was finally time.

izuku wasn't really izuku right now obviously because of the quirk, but a little bit of him still remained in control. He felt a bit nervous currently but thanks to the quirk you couldn't detect it. He also wanted to kiss you, badly.

but was that really him or the quirk?

"I.. I wanna kiss you, is that okay?" He mutters, suddenly his gaze leaving yours. His hand leaves your waist and he leans away. He's playing with his fingers suddenly?

you slowly sit upwards from the wall and study him, he is fidgeting, is he nervous now?

"you want to kiss me?" your eyes light up, sparkle even. He looks up and nods, the way he does it is so cute . He looks so shy now with his green eyes softening at you.

you think for a second, will he even remember this kiss?

your eyes find his and leave them there, your lips curl suddenly, and you nod.

It would be better if he didn't remember... it would save the embarrassment.

"you can kiss me." Izu lips part, he's taken back at your reply. He's about to speak but something inside him seems to switch on. His fingers twitch and you notice his pupils, heart-shaped, dilate again.

oh no, it's back.

"oh you're so cute I can't wait to taste you sweetheart.." izu moves forward again, he makes you lean back against the wall. You blush a bright red, your nerves are back gosh he is so DIFFERENT now..

not so soft and shy but flirty and obsessed.

"taste??!" You blurt out as he lifts your chin toward him. He smirks, his eyes narrowing to your sweet lips.

"that's what I said, no?"

. . .

"should we tell deku dinner is being served? Or let him sleep?" Uraraka asks iida who walked beside her.

"well y/n hasn't made her way to the common room so she is most likely with Midoriya right as we speak. We should inform her and have her bring dinner to him." Iida states. They both motion toward Izuku's room, growing closer.

"that seems good, I hope he's okay though and she isn't having to much trouble with—"

"AAAAAHHHH MIDORIYAAA, STOP !!!"

a loud shriek echoes through the halls that made the two wandering students stop dead in their tracks.

"what in the world was that??" Iida looks around, alarmed. Uraraka points to the door.. izukus's door.

"It came from there!" The girl blasts off quickly to the rescue. Iida is caught off guard by her speed as he follows behind her

"wait up!"

the two race to the selected door and come crashing in, ready to tackle any danger that might have gotten inside.

"stop you crimin- oh!?" The brunette's face takes on a shade of pink at the sight infront of her. Her brows, once stitched together were now raised to her forehead.

her eyes flicker a few times before she makes a loud flushed noise and covers her face.

it was you and izuku, he was now ontop of you. His legs were protecting your sides as he attempted to kiss you once again. Your arms are on his shoulders..TRYING to stop him but uraraka probably already had the wrong idea.

you turn your head at the flushed girl, you blush yourself.

"uraraka?!" You shout, now incredibly embarrassed. She didn't say anything but kept her hands on her face.

"and IIDA!! what are you two DOING??" suddenly four eyes makes his appearance.

your eyes widen which makes your arms fall, izu finally kisses you but.. it wasn't your lips he met.

"IIDA??? OH MY GO— EEK?!" Your body tenses up, izuku kissed your neck. Oh my god he kissed your neck and wasn't stopping.

your body temperature rose like a thermometer, you were officially a red tomato.

"IZUKU???"

#𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺𝘬𝘪𝘭 ᯓ��#boku no hero acedamia #mha x reader #mha #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya

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osmanthus-wine-addiction · 1 month ago

Text

16 Lactation

Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Zhongli's heat makes him produce dragon's milk

Your lover had a habit of avoiding you whenever his heat came around. You've always found it unnecessary, but he insisted.

"Just let me take care of you." You pouted, determined to prove you could be of help to him during these trying times. "I visited Bubu Pharmacy and asked Doctor Baizhu to give me that medicine you usually take. At least let me come in and brew it for you…"

"My dearest, I appreciate all that you do for me." He sighed. "However, I can handle this on my own. It is not something I want to burden you with. As soon as I am certain this affliction has passed, I shall make it up to you."

And so you could only stand there in his doorway. He wouldn't even open the door wider than a crack, as if swinging it open all the way would reveal something so unflattering, it would send you running.

Although the two of you had been together for some time already, Zhongli had made it a personal mission to keep this particular aspect of himself away from you. It only made you all the more curious. You've asked him many times before, what exactly happens during his heats. All you got were vague answers, like how he had less control over his impulses, which you were more than willing to accommodate. There were also physical changes that only took place during these times, things he warned you would find bizarre. You had seen him a handful of times with his draconic features out, horns protruding from the top of his head and teeth elongated to a point. Even if he sprouted a scaly tail, you would not be surprised.

"Zhongli, I'm not scared of whatever you're hiding. Even if you're not entirely yourself, I know you won't hurt me. Just let me come in. I'm already here and I'm not going home until I watch you drink this." You held up the medicine.

"You truly drive a hard bargain." He finally yields to your stubbornness. An exasperated smile is on his lips, appreciation brimming in his eyes.

You grinned, looking straight into Zhongli’s eyes. As soon as he pulled the door open all the way, your eyes immediately swept up and down his body. Sure enough, crystalline horns glinted in the dim light. A scattering of scales were visible along his neck and wrists, possibly all along his glowing arms, underneath his sleeves. He turned, allowing you to step inside. Your gaze returned to his face after he shut the door. There was a perpetual flush on your lover's face. You tried to pull him in for a hug, but he gracefully evaded you, determined to stay out of your reach even though the two of you were now alone inside his house. There was a thick tension in the air and it was getting even more apparent the longer you stayed in his presence.

As soon as you entered his kitchen, you pulled out a pot and unwrapped one of the herbal pouches, emptying it's contents followed by several cups of water. The herbal tea was covered and sat on the flame, waiting to come to a boil.

You turned your attention back to Zhongli, who was leaning against the wall beside you, arms crossed. His eyes were shut, possibly to keep them from constantly raking over your form. It was impossible to suppress his growing arousal with you so close, right within his reach, but he had to do his best. Your faint scent drifted into his nostrils, stimulating him further.

Your eyes glanced over at the pot of medicine. "Do these herbs suppress whatever's going on with your body?"

"The opposite." He replied. His voice was a bit gravelly.

"It amplifies it?" Your eyes widened. No wonder he was so on edge. "Why would Baizhu give you something that makes your symptoms worse?"

"So that it runs its course over a shorter amount of time. That way I can get back to you sooner as my usual self, darling." He explains with as much patience as he could muster. That was the main challenge during his heat. His patience was in pitifully short supply right now.

"Oh…" You fell silent as the words sunk in.

"Perhaps I should excuse myself while you brew this." He sounded almost desperate to get away from you.

"Wait!" You wouldn't let him, of course.

Zhongli let out a surprisingly loud gasp as you backed him into the wall he was just leaning against. Poor man was so jittery, you immediately stepped away to give him some space.

"I don't want you to hide from me, Zhongli. You can show me what your heat is like."

"Darling…" Zhongli breathed unsteady as if he had just gotten the air knocked out of his lungs. He swallowed thickly before granting you what you had come here for. "Very well."

First, you reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet your lips. You could feel his body tremble. Normally, he would not have such a strong response to a simple kiss and your embrace. Your hands wandered up his chest. That was when your eyes widened.

"Zhongli…" You had to pull away to make sure what you were feeling underneath your palms wasn't just your imagination.

His face was even redder now that you had discovered the true extent of his physical changes. Haggard breaths fanned against the top of your head as you reached up to unbutton his shirt. Initially, you did not notice the soaked patches because of the dark color of the fabric. His chest also felt different from usual. It was softer, fuller than what you remembered.

"It is as you've guessed. While in heat, my body undergoes quite the rigorous change. Aside from producing eggs, it will also produce a substance which is akin to what humans nurse their young with."

You blinked at him. "Milk?"

He nodded. "Does that unsettle you, dear?"

You shook your head, a strange smirk on your face. "So you lay eggs and lactate during your heat. A bit strange, but nothing I can't get used to…"

"If unchecked, this could go on for months. All the while, I would exhibit behaviors that you may find exasperating…"

"Like horniness?" You giggled.

This had always been your suspicion as to why your lover was so adamant on staying out of your way while he was on his heat. Letting his pristine image slip in front of you occasionally was one thing, but being unable to restrain himself was an entirely different matter. A gentleman like Zhongli would predictably lock himself up before he would ever allow that to happen.

"That is among them, indeed." He sighed, relieved that you were still in a light mood. "Along with nesting tendancies, increased need for physical proximity, irritability, and a constant, voracious appetite."

"Do they feel heavy?" You asked, eyeing a trickle of creamy white that had seeped out from his engorged chest.

You reached up, brushing a fingernail against the glistening peak. He let out a soft moan as you proceeded to play with it. "A bit, yes."

"I've tried cow's milk, goat's milk, and coconut milk before, but I've never tried dragon's milk…"

"Are you suggesting that you'd like to try it?" He could hardly hold in his shock, but even moreso the anticipation from your bizarre words.

"Can I?" You asked, warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin of his areola.

Zhongli nodded slowly, as if in a trance. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a gasp when you leaned in, closing your lips over his nipple. A shiver rippled through his body when you began suckling. A deep rumble emitted from his throat. His large hands found their way to the back of your head, cradling you against his chest, while his fingers threaded into your hair. Your own hands reached up to fondle his luscious mounds, kneading them diligently, earning you an appreciative hum from your lover.

The flavor and texture of dragon's milk was undeniably different from what you were familiar with, a mixture of sweet and metallic. It was thick and creamy, probably very nutrutious too. You were latched onto one teet for a good few seconds before drawing enough milk to swallow, moving onto the neglected one immediately after. Over your head drifted a steady stream of groans and shallow breaths while content purrs vibrated through his chest.

Once you were pleased with your fill, you let go of the abused nipple, giving it a parting lick. Zhongli panted as he met your gaze, eyes burning with muted desire. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, gathering him into a kiss. Your lips were still glazed with his creamy excretion. He didn't mind the taste of himself on your lips. It wasn't the first time you had swallowed something of his.

"Someone's a bit worked up." You teased him, reaching down to palm his bulge through the silk of his pants.

Zhongli chuckled. "That's expected, is it not?"

You sunk down to your knees, fingers latching onto the waistband of his pants. "Do you need me to milk you down here too?"

"Darling…" He breathed, cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red. "I'd be lying if I say I'm not imagining your lovely lips wrapped around my cock right now."

"See? It's not so hard to be honest with me." You grinned up at him as you tugged down his pants, revealing how needy your lover actually was underneath the collected facade.

You traced the bulging vein with the tip of your tongue before taking his cock into your mouth. It immediately throbbed with ignited pleasure. You had to hold him still with your hands as you sucked on the leaking tip. Zhongli let out a strangled moan as you toyed with his cock.

"My dear, please…" He choked out. "I cannot withstand teasing right now…"

Even though Zhongli was already bursting from the bit of stimulation you were giving him, thanks to his heat, he still wanted to afford you as much time and patience as he could muster. This manifested in breathless pleas and soft whimpers, sounds you had never imagined coming out of your lover in all the time you had known him. You couldn't possibly resist him like this.

Your lips parted wide as you eagerly shoved him into your mouth. The gagging and initial discomfort of having something so thick lodged in your throat was ignored. Your focus was solely on drawing as many of those delicious sounds from your lover's lips as you could.

Zhongli leaned against the wall, legs trembling as you knelt in front of him. His hands were once again buried in your hair as he got lost in the sensation of your mouth wrapped around his throbbing cock. You bobbed your head along his shaft, up and down, lips dripping in saliva. He freed a hand to massage his leaking teet, which spilled a cascade of milk all the way down his abdomen. You almost thought he had climaxed, but the sweetness of his milk was a welcome quencher. An unwilling groan escaped Zhongli as you spat him out to clean up the mess his milkers had made on his chest and abs.

"You did not need to do that, but I appreciate the gesture." Your lover somehow still had his manners intact even after all you had done.

"It would've gone to waste." You insisted. "Might as well let me enjoy it."

"Do you… enjoy it?"

You nodded. "It tastes quite good actually."

With that, you got back to pleasuring him, massaging the pouches at the base of his cock while swallowing him to the hilt. Zhongli arched his neck back as his senses were overwhelmed, just like how you imagined him. Seeing your reserved lover at the brink of his self control was such a treat. You gave his cock a gentle squeeze with your palms while simultaneously prodding the slit on his tip with your tongue. He immediately bucked against your lips, plunging his cock against the back of your throat. A loud groan escaped him as he exploded into your mouth, spilling his milky white cum down your throat. Perhaps his heat had something to do with it, but the sheer amount of his release was alarming. You nearly choked trying to swallow all of it. Inevitably, much of his load ended up escaping your lips and dripping unceremoniously down your jaw and chin, resulting in an unsightly splatter on the front of your shirt.

"Have you had your fill yet?" Zhongli sighed, shaking his head at your less than dignified state.

"I.. I think so." You answered as you got up.

Your lover gently wiped what he could off your face and neck, but the stains on your clothes would have to be washed off. The scent of herbal tea permeated the kitchen, mixed with hints of something heady and suggestive.

"It appears I may need to have you visit more often rather than seal myself off to you during these times." Zhongli muses as you drape your arms over his shoulders. "You do such a fine job alleviating the burdens of my heat."

"Of course." You replied proudly while turning off the stove.

---

I know some of you will be wondering how the fuck a dragon produces milk. Let's just say dragons are mythical creatures, not lizards, and he's probably related to a platypus lol. Also, he may or may not be a protandrous hermaphrodite like a clownfish in here. My brain had to do some serious cartwheels to make this brainrot make sense, so please don't speculate way too hard on the biology of this smut like I did.

#zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #zhongli fanfic #zhongli x you #18+ mdni #mdni #minors do not interact #kinktober 2024

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emotionoitme · 3 months ago

Text

i didn’t know

i didn't know - skinshape

final part of don’t call my name

warnings: some fighting at the beginning, but it’s mostly just one big love and fuckfest, mommy issues, slight mention of disordered eating, carmy is a PERV!! unprotected sex throughout but what else did you expect, shower sex (water off for SAFETY), teasing, play fighting (like shoving), brat/brat tamer themes, f receiving oral, fingering, major voyeurism (while otp with richie because i have a crush on him), spanking (and mention of skin being red), slight dacryphilia, sexy pictures, face fucking (m receiving oral), he spits in her mouth, kind of rough handling (thank u dom carmy), but it’s sweet and sappy too, breeding kink oop, bittersweet ending, pls let me know if i missed any warnings my brain is fried from looking at this for so long.

wc: 21k - but tumblr has a 1k "block limit" so this chapter is broken into two posts

a/n: sorry that took me so long i took a grippy sock vacation lol. wow i am so excited for all of you to read this. and the only way i can apologize is with 21k words of the nastiest smut i’ve ever written. LET THERE BE LIGHT!!! (part two of this chapter will be linked at the bottom! no more waiting i promise!!)

playlist

knock knock

he calls her name.

she rolls her eyes, brushing out the tangles in her hair. “i need to talk to you.” his voice comes sternly.

she cracks the door, continuing to detangle. the plan was to ignore him, yet she can’t help but seethe at the fact that she had to deal with claire again.

“go talk to your girlfriend” her retort comes sharply.

“can you not start this shit?” his face scrunches.

“i’m not starting anything,” she defends, “you’re the one who keeps inviting that girl over here.”

“she forgot her scarf,” he states, “she just came to pick it up. that’s it.”

the girl scoffs.

“i’m sure she wanted a lot more than her scarf from you, carm.”

“you-,” he rubs his forehead, sighing, “i told her that we’re together, okay?” his eyebrow twitches from the argument.

“you only told her that because she saw me in your shirt,” the girl argues stubbornly, “if i didn’t walk behind you, you wouldn’t have said anything.” she turns the shower on.

“yes i would have,” he contests, “and even if she didn’t see you, i’ve got these fuckin’ things all over my neck,” pointing to the dark purple hickeys that lay on his skin, “thanks for those, by the way. gotta go into work tomorrow like this.”

she bites her lip to hide a smirk.

he catches it and raises his eyebrows in response.

“payback.”

“what?” he stutters, shaking his head.

“those are nothing compared to what you gave me.”

he scoffs and crosses his arms. tries to push away how roused he becomes when they bicker like this.

“i didn’t hear any complaints while i was giving you them,” he counters.

she rolls her eyes.

“can you get out? i need to shower.”

“m’not done talking to you,” his eyes lock on her face.

she puts her hand on her hip and scoffs, staring at him for a moment, studying his features. cursing how her body tingled from the argument. deliberating.

“fine,” she concedes, threading her fingers under the hem of the borrowed shirt, lifting it up over her head to reveal her nudity. if he won’t leave, she’ll just shower anyways.

carmen fights a groan at the sight, instead forcefully exhaling through his nose.

she was right, the marks on his neck were nothing compared to the bruises littering her skin, trailing from her neck all the way down to her chest, ranging from red to purple to brown.

the girl turns to open the glass door of the shower, stepping in, watching as the man shamelessly admires her figure. she goes about her business as if he’s not there, submerging her head under the stream of water, carding her fingers through her hair to scrub her scalp.

he’s not done talking to her, yet he can’t seem to remember what he even wanted to say, transfixed by her nude, wet body just feet away. she begins to hum a tune and lather up her hair with shampoo.

carmen approaches the glass.

“hey,” he tries with a knock, eyebrow twitching. something else twitching, too.

she glances at him, suds dripping down the side of her face, sliding down her breasts. she smirks knowingly at the sight of his flustered face, pushing her chest out slightly before drenching her face underneath the water again.

he knocks on the glass door again, jaw tightly clenched. she rubs the water out of her eye and turns to him, cracking the door of the shower open.

“hm?” she questions, gazing up at him.

“we gonna finish talking?” he asks. he looks angry, but she knows better. the way his chest puffs out. the way his jaw clenches in that certain way. he looks hungry, and she’s tempted to keep pushing.

“i can’t. i’m in the shower,” she bites down on her lip to refrain from smirking.

“why-” a sigh, running his fingers through his hair, “why you being such a brat today, huh?” he strains, giving great effort to keep his gaze from trailing down.

“because i want you to myself,” she bites, “i’m tired of sharing with claire.”

“will you knock that shit off? y’not sharing me with anyone.”

“uh, i beg to differ,” her eyebrows scrunch, “you’ve been fucking around with her since i moved in.”

“fucking around?” he scoffs, “she was getting her scarf.”

“there was the other time, too, carm,” she reminds him.

“that’s because-” he lets out a sigh of exasperation, hand carding through his hair. “listen. she’s the last person i wanna be with. we just…weren't good together.”

“why not?” she presses

“there just wasn’t…i dunno, sparks? it was like dating a friend.”

“okay.” she’s still mad, but she likes the words that come from his mouth. because if she has one thing with carmen, it’s definitely sparks.

“yeah?” he tries, leaning to see her face, “you know i’m yours, right?”

“yeah. whatever.” she doesn’t want to concede, too fired up about claire coming back over. “you should’ve told me.”

“i knew it’d make you mad,” he defends.

“not as mad as it makes me thinking that you invited her,” she scoffs, “fucking hate seeing that girl bat her eyelashes at you.” she lathers shampoo between her hands and begins to wash her hair.

“yeah?” he raises his eyebrows, “feeling jealous?”

“shut up.” she can sense the stupid smirk on his face.

carmy’s concentration breaks, and his gaze flits down to her sudsy chest. fuck. he clears his throat before speaking.

“didn’t know girls like you could get jealous.”

“girls like m-what? what is that supposed to mean?” she cracks an eye open.

“means you’re too fuckin’ pretty to worry about that shit. so just lose the attitude.”

his answer catches her off guard. the pulsing between her legs catches her off guard too. so she just turns away from him, scrubbing her scalp with her soapy fingers and shutting her eyes tightly.

he chides her name and pushes the glass door open further.

she ignores him, soaking her hair under the stream of water, muffling his voice. her eyebrow twitches.

carmy steps partially in and turns off the water, getting his shirt wet in the process. the girl’s eyes shoot open and she whips around to face him.

“what the fuck, carmy?!”

“i need you to fuckin’ hear me.” his comes louder than he anticipated. “i don’t. want. claire.”

she doesn’t even care anymore. his lips look so inviting, she thinks. his white shirt clings to his chest in the spot that got wet.

she just looks at him for a moment. studies his frenetic expression. looks at his lips again.

“are you gonna keep fucking fighting with me or are you gonna take that wet shirt off?”

it takes him a half second of firm deliberation before he’s yanking his shirt over his head and pushing his sweatpants off. she grins as he roughly grabs her face and slams his lips against hers.

he kisses her with a hungry frenzy, like he has something to prove.

and they apologize to each other with their bodies yet again, as carmen lifts her against the cold tile and fucks her, coaxing and kissing and thrusting an orgasm out of her.

he fucks her until it feels like all the hurting is gone. until she gets lovey and desperate for him. until he gets so worked up he groans promises about finding her in california and giving her a ring.

by the time they finish, the water is cold and the girl begins to shiver. so the two quickly finish washing up and carmy wraps her in a towel.

he retrieves one of his sweatshirts for her to wear, smoothing his hands over her arms to help warm her up.

without many words exchanged, they decide to cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie together. she lays her head on his lap and he cards his fingers through her hair absentmindedly. exchanging tenderness to help mend the argument. forgetting feelings of jealousy and shortcoming and guilt.

they cozy up in carmen’s bed that night, taking a moment before falling asleep to just lay staring at each other. joking softly, touching each other sweetly.

he asks her about california, and watches with fascination as she lights up telling him about the beach she grew up next to. tells him about how when things would get bad at home she would sneak out her window and spend hours swimming in the salty water. letting the waves lap at her skin. letting the sun kiss her better. how it seems so dangerous looking back at it, but as kid nothing ever seemed that dangerous. it felt like nothing could hurt you.

carmy enthusiastically agrees with her. follows her memory with his own anecdote of when donna took him, mikey, and nat to lake michigan and little carmy got separated from everyone. how he would have otherwise panicked and ran around and made the situation worse, but it was such a beautiful evening. so he decided to just sit on a rock and watch the waves roll in.

a big smile grows on the girl's face as he recounts the moment when his mom found him. how she threw her arms around him and cried. how he was too young to understand why she was so scared when it was such a lovely evening.

she wraps her arms around his shoulders and their chests press flush together. she kisses his neck, and they stay quiet for a moment.

“i wish i didn’t have to go back,” she whispers her admission.

“me too.” he keeps playing with her hair.

it’s quiet for a moment. there’s a heaviness that fills the room.

“how long you gonna have to end up staying?” carmy asks softly, leaning away from her to study her eyes. her face. trying to memorize every detail. he doesn’t miss the way her expression falters at his question.

the girl doesn’t answer, and her eyes become glossy.

“shit,” he breathes. her eyes dart to his. “you’re not coming back, are you?”

“my whole family is there,” she whispers, “my friends. there’s nothing for me here.”

“really?” he scoffs, “nothing at all?”

“don’t start, carm.”

“y’know i fuckin’ love you,” he harshly whispers. she flinches slightly at the word. it feels so much heavier without the haze of lust.

“all we ever do is fuck and fight.”

“that’s not true,” he argues.

“it is.”

the man lets out a sigh of frustration, studying her eyes. her face. her lips.

“it just…it feels right with you,” his tone softens.

she doesn’t say anything for a moment, and fantasizes about leaving everything behind and building something in chicago, no matter how much she had grown to hate the weather. she fantasizes about the man in front of her. how she wants to build a life with him. how makes her feel like no other man ever has.

it’s hard to verbalize as her mind racks back and forth, so instead she just leans forward and kisses him softly, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck.

carmy reciprocates hesitantly, mind racing with the things he wants to tell her. how he doesn’t care about the distance. how he’ll call her every night. how he’ll keep her room vacant incase she wants to come back. he softly groans into the kiss when she slips her tongue into his mouth, feeling her press her chest flush against his. it feels so good, but he knows it’s wrong to keep pushing the hard conversations away with more sex.

the girl finds his hand and softly guides it under the hem of her shirt. carmen lets her, fingertips finding the softness of her skin. but when she tries to pull his hand up to her breast, he stops the attempt, fingers firmly pressing against her ribs.

the girl whines against his lips, moving closer.

carmy indulges in the taste of her for only a moment more before pulling back and saying her name. she ignores him, chasing his lips, hand moving to grasp his strong bicep.

“hey,” he turns his head and her kisses land messily along his jaw, “c’mon.”

she ignores him, knowing he’ll want to keep talking about california, pressing herself closer, wanting to indulge in the feeling of him without thinking about the end.

he calls her name again, voice coming out strained. she can feel his erection pressing against her, and keeps peppering kisses along his jaw and face.

“just make me feel good,” she begs against his skin, “please.”

carmen feels himself throb against her, wanting nothing more than to give in. knowing it won’t fix anything. knowing it’ll only complicate things more.

“thought you said all we do is fuck and fight?” his fingers grip into her, jaw tightening, feeling his resolve begin to crumble beneath her lips.

“mhm,” she breathes into his skin, “so fuck me again,” trailing her hand down his bare abdomen.

he grips her wrist before she can move any further down. her eyes come up to meet his, taking in the stern look on his face.

“i know you wanna,” she breathes, a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips, “can feel you throbbing against me.”

carmen harshly exhales, trying to keep his mind focused. she’s completely right, he thinks, he’s stiff as wood. but he has to stay strong, prove to himself he has control around her.

“stop fucking around. i wanna talk to you.” his voice comes more sharply than he means.

the girl stiffens at his tone, pulling away to sit up and retreat. he doesn’t release her wrist.

“let me go,” she tells him.

“no. we’re gonna fuckin’ finish this,” his eyebrows furrow, “i didn’t even know you weren’t coming back until now.”

“i don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” her throat feels tight.

“no? just want me to make you feel better? that all this is to you?” he can’t help the harshness of his tone.

“carm, i-”

“y’know i’ve never fuckin’ felt this way about anyone? never said ‘i love you’ to anyone but you?” his nose scrunches, eyes appearing glossy.

“we’ve only known each other for a few weeks.” her tone comes hushed as her chest painfully tightens.

“yeah, well, i know you enough to know that this is real. that i don’t even-” a sigh, “ i don’t want anybody else but you.”

“everything you’re saying is just gonna make it harder when i leave.” her voice breaks.

his furrowed brows soften at the sound, releasing her wrist. she says seated on the bed, trying to take deep breaths and stave off the hot tears that threaten to form.

“fuck, i-” he pauses, harshly rubs his hand over his face, taking a moment before meeting her eyes again and saying her name. “i like you. a lot.”

“i know. i like you too, carm.” she rubs the tears away harshly.

“so why can’t we just…enjoy it? while you’re still here? go all out on this?”

she stares at him blankly for a second as a cue to elaborate.

the man exhales and shakes his head, trying to piece together what to say. he can’t seem to find the words. she thankfully cuts in.

“go all out on this?” she asks.

he nods.

“like, you wanna be my fuckin’…. boyfriend?”

carmen can’t help the small smile that flashes across his face at the title. he tries to turn his head to hide it but she catches it, playfully shoving his arm. his smile turns to a chuckle.

“shut up,” she grins, wiping the last stray tear away, “you so wanna be my boyfriend.”

he bring his arms to rest behind his head, staring up at the girl with a lazy smile. he studies her smile. her pretty face. they way in which she’s leaned in closer.

“fuck yeah, i do. you kidding me?”

her eyebrows raise at how assertively he says it. her head falls back, and she begins to laugh. partially out of joy and partially out of disbelief. the sound is hearty and sweet, and carmy finds himself wishing he’d make her laugh more.

the girl leans over him, smile still gracing her face, and she plants a tender kiss against his lips.

carmen gazes dreamily at her as she sits back up and tucks her hair behind her ears. her face is flushed, and she’s wearing an expression he can’t quite read. they keep staring at each other silently.

“this is gonna be a bad idea, huh?” she asks after a moment.

“why?”

“why wouldn’t it be?” her eyes take in his handsome face. she thinks about how hard it’s gonna be to leave.

“well…i like you,” he clears his throat, “a lot. actually i’m kind of fuckin’ crazy about you.”

her gaze softens at this. he continues.

“and i’m very attracted to you. and we, uh… we have great sex…”

“yeah, we do,” she concedes, “these are all good points.”

“so then, you’re my girlfriend.”

“carmy…” she sighs, pausing. thinking of what to say. “i don’t like it here. i’ve felt homesick for the past year. i’m really not coming back.” her voice is quiet.

“yeah.” he nods, clearing his throat, “i know you’re not.” he knows, but it’s still hard to be reminded of.

“so, you’re gonna be okay with that?”

“i mean…i’m not okay with it, but i’ll deal with it if it means we get to spend these next few weeks together.”

she thinks for a moment, studying his genuine expression.

“okay…but if we do this, we have to promise each other that we’re not gonna get too attached. i really don’t want this to be messy. i like you too much.”

“it won’t be,” he assures, although it feels more like a prayer than a fact.

“okay,” she whispers, “then you’re my boyfriend i guess.”

his eyes light up a bit at this, and a boyish grin breaks his face.

“nice.”

“you’re stupid.” she laughs at his response, lightly shoving his chest again.

he reaches up and shoves her shoulder back playfully.

“you are.”

she scoffs and goes to shove him again, harder this time. he catches her wrist and pulls her forward so she can’t. the girl lets out a yelp of surprise, splaying out over him, face inches from his.

the simple display of dominance makes her feel dizzy, placing her free hand on his firm chest to center herself.

“why you like fighting so much, hm?” he asks, his breath ghosting over her lips, “you’re always testing.”

she tries to pull her wrist away, but his grip is firm.

“cause you’re…sexy when you’re mad,” she admits, eyes drooping to his lips.

“i’m sexy when i’m mad?” he has a slight mocking tone.

“mhm.” she can’t keep her eyes off his lips. “if i worked at your restaurant, i’d probably mess shit up on purpose just so you’d yell at me.”

“jesus,” he lets out a laugh, rubbing his free hand over his face, “what, you like when i get a little rough you?”

“n-no,” she blurts out. the way she averts her eyes immediately reveals her lie.

“yeah, i think you do,” he grins.

she goes to defend herself again, but shuts her mouth when she can’t think of anything to say. it is kind of true, anyways.

“shut up,” she pushes his face away from her gently, “or else i’ll break up with you.”

this makes him fully laugh. it’s a really nice sound. she watches the way his face crinkles with the big smile. when his laugh fades, he reaches for her chin and pulls her into a gentle kiss. she sighs into the feeling, settling her body closer to his.

“m’tired,” she mutters into his lips, “you exhaust me.”

carmy rolls his eyes at this. “c’mere.” he says, pulling the sheets back for her.

the girl slips in next to him and presses her back against his chest, resting her head on his bicep.

carmy reaches behind him to turn off the lamp, then wraps his arm securely around her. he plants a kiss on her neck and nuzzles his nose into her hair.

boyfriend.

he could get used to the title.

carmen gets home late from work on a cold night, late into november, crashing down onto the couch and basking in the silence of the apartment.

it was a long day in the kitchen, followed by meeting with a contracting crew to update some structural components after hours.

he had finally taken off after being there for almost 12 hours straight, begrudgingly leaving the renovations to be overseen by richie after having snapped at the crew for the third time.

he hears soft footsteps padding down the hall, and opens his eyes to see his girlfriend. his sweet, perfect, sexy fucking girlfriend. and it’s like a breath of fresh air, especially after not having seen her the past few days. and she’s wearing a tiny pair of shorts with a crop top that barely covers the curve of her breasts.

it’s like a reward, he thinks to himself, for all the bullshit he put up with today at the restaurant.

“welcome home,” she greets, walking past the couch and into the kitchen.

“hey,” he returns, eyes following her, gaze raking down her backside as she gets herself a glass of water.

“how was work?” she’s oblivious to the way he’s hungrily looking at her, oblivious to how pent up he feels.

“long,” he responds, eyes trailing up the length of her legs.

she lets out a hum of acknowledgement, turning to face him and taking a long sip of water. she catches him watching her intently, his arm stretched out over the back of the couch and neck craned.

“enjoying the view?” comes her tease.

“y’look good,” he defends.

“yeah?”

“mhm.”

the girl sets her glass down and begins to saunter to the couch. carmen’s eyes follow her closely.

“how good?” she stops in front of him.

“good enough to eat.” a small smile twitches the edge of his lip.

“yeah? wanna taste?” her hands come to her hips, and she pushes her chest out slightly.

fuck. he shamelessly looks her up and down. this was getting to be dangerous territory.

“do you wanna go to out to dinner this week?” he changes course, watching her brain stutter for a second.

“wh-dinner?”

he nods, resting his head against his hand. she pauses for a moment, studying his face.

“where?”

“wherever you want.”

“like…a date?”

“mhm,” a smirk tugs at the edge of his lips, “cause you’re, uh…my girlfriend now.”

a grin breaks her face. she thinks for a moment.

“can we go to your restaurant?”

“uh…yeah, i guess we can.”

“you guess?” she asks.

“yeah, we can go. but you’re probably gonna get a lot of, uh…attention.” he admits hesitantly.

“from who? your staff?”

he nods. they would probably lose their shit seeing him bring in a girl to eat dinner with. not to mention a girl that looks like her.

“okay,” she nods, “i’ll dress cute. you can help me pick.”

“yeah?” he likes the sound of that.

“mhm. whatever you want.”

carmen rubs his hand over his face then locks his eyes on her again. this girl is going to be the death of him.

“c’mere,” he beckons.

the girl gently steps forward, standing in between his spread legs. his hand comes to the back of her thigh as he sits forward, gazing up at her with those big blue eyes. he looks so handsome, and she can’t help but place her hands on his face and lean in to kiss him.

it’s gentle and sweet, and it only makes him want more, tightening his grip on her leg as she pulls away.

“you taste minty,” she says softly, still leaning over him, stroking her thumb across his face.

“you sure?” he’s fixated on her lips, “might wanna check again.” he definitely is minty from the nicorette gum he’d been chewing. but it’s worth a shot.

this makes her smile. and she does check again. decides it’s spearmint she tastes.

before she can pull back, carmy pulls her forward to straddle him. she makes a sound of surprise, but leans into it, wrapping her arms around his neck and continuing to kiss him.

“missed you today,” he slips in between kisses.

“liar,” she smiles against his lips.

his hands come to her hips, pulling her against him.

“nah, it’s true,” another kiss, “couldn’t stop fuckin’ thinking about you.”

“prove it.” she grinds against his bulge, making him tighten his grip.

“lay down,” he growls, pulling away. there’s a dark gleam in his eyes.

“or else what?” she challenges

he grabs both sides of her thighs and stands up with her still straddling his waist, turning and dropping her back onto the couch.

okay, he’s not in the mood for arguing anymore. good to know.

carmen cages her with his arms and kisses her deeply before trailing his lips down her jaw, neck, collarbones, only being stopped by the neckline of her shirt. he glances up at her, and she eagerly takes it off. he smiles at the silent act of obedience and continues kissing down her body, barely giving any attention to her breasts before his lips come to her stomach. the girl huffs at this, and he pretends to not notice.

“what are you doing?” she strains, watching as his lips come to rest just above the waistband of her shorts.

“m’getting my taste,” he replies casually

“carmy,” she chides, face becoming red and hot.

“what?” his fingers hook her waistband, “you embarrassed or something?” another kiss on her hipbone.

she is, inexplicably. and vulnerable and exposed and horny all at the same time. she hides her face in her arms instead of responding, feeling him slide the shorts down her legs, left clad only in a thin pair of panties.

carmy hooks his arms around her legs and pulls her closer to his mouth, pressing slow, firm kisses to her covered mound.

the girl lets out a labored breath at the heat of his lips against her clit as he begins to place wet, open mouthed kisses on her covered pussy. her cotton underwear becomes damp with his tongue, and she arches into the feeling with a sharp breath in.

carmy nuzzles the fabric and deeply inhales, letting out a low groan.

“ah- don’t do that!” the girl tries to clamp her legs shut out of embarrassment, but he holds them firmly in place and presses his face closer to her core, continuing to kiss and suck her through the fabric.

“you smell good,” carmy defends. “and these are cute,” he snaps the band of her panties.

she can hardly even process the statement before he starts sliding them down her thighs, bunching up the fabric and putting it in his pocket.

“hey, you can’t have those,” she strains.

there’s a delay in carmen’s response—too busy studying her soft pussy up close, lips gleaming with wetness, bundle of nerves twitching under his gaze.

“i’ll, uh…make it up to you,” his eyes stay fixed on the glorious sight upon him.

he leans in, flattens his tongue against her clit, and begins to gently lick.

the girl gasps, and her hands fly down to grab his hair as she releases a whine of pleasure.

the tantalizing licks to her clit are gentle. almost not enough. she tugs on his hair and tries to scoot forward, so he eases his tongue back.

when his eyes flicker to her face. her skin is flushed, lip clamped between her teeth, and she’s looking at him hungrily.

“y’so pretty,” he presses a kiss to her clit, “taste so fuckin’ good.”

her head falls back and she breathes out sharply. it’s too much to keep making eye contact with him. the slow, teasing licks are the only thing she can concentrate on.

“you gonna say thank you?” it’s more of a demand than a question, as he glides his finger over her entrance, collecting her syrupy wetness.

“n-no,” she struggles, face hot and red.

thank you, really? how embarrassing.

his tongue flicks over her clit repeatedly, his finger dips inside of her opening ever so slightly.

“no?” his lips close around her clit and he sucks, cherishing the sound of the first moan she allows to slip out.

“mmm,” she whines in response, beginning to pant at the feeling of his mouth.

“c’mon, be a good girl for me?” unlikely, but he asks anyways

“i am,” she argues, pulling his head towards her needy heat. he scoffs at this and continues to swirl his tongue around her clit.

“then say thank you.”

“carm, i’m not saying-ah thank you!” she cuts herself off with a moan as he sinks his finger inside of her. “y’welcome” he replies lowly, a smirk fighting to break his face.

“shut up. i didn’t-mmh! …mean it like that.”

she sits up onto her forearms, watching him curl his digit upwards inside of her, trying to keep it together.

“you’re so fuckin’ cute.” he growls, then dives forward to taste her again. his fingers curl rhythmically, tongue lightly swirling her sensitive clit, giving her barely enough stimulation to get by.

“more,” she whines, bucking her hips up slightly. he gives her a disapproving glance, so she adds a “please”.

“yeah?” he kisses her clit.

she frantically nods her head, trying to scoot closer to the man, trying to buck her hips against his hand.

carmen speeds up the pace of his fingers, sucking her clit into his mouth, free hand gripping onto her thigh.

“yeah,” she moans, “fuck, you’re so good at that.”

he preens at the praise and swirls her clit with his tongue, beginning to lap at her pussy. when he adds a second finger she cries out his name.

the view above him in combination with how sweet she sounds leaves his cock pulsing beneath his denim. he reaches down with his free hand, undoing his belt buckle and unzipping his pants. he just needs a little something to keep him from fucking her into the couch.

as he goes to wrap his fingers around his cock, he’s interrupted by the harsh buzz of his phone on the table.

the girl startles at this, and both of their eyes dart to the contact tag.

fucking richie.

he doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers, and leans back in to taste her again, ignoring the loud vibrations. he begins to softly stroke himself, groaning into her pussy.

“do you need to-ah… to get that?

“no,” he replies sharply, “y’taste too fuckin’ good to stop.”

the girl whimpers at the sound of his voice. at how low and raspy and hungry it sounds.

“let me taste,” her plead comes breathily.

carmen nearly groans at her request, more than willing to happily oblige. he licks a long stripe up her pussy, collecting her slick on his tongue, then leans over for a kiss. the girl eagerly (and messily) accepts his lips, swirling her tongue around his own, tasting her juices. she tasted herself before off his fingers, but it’s so much better off his tongue. she moans appreciatively and holds the sides of his face, pulling him in for deeper, sloppier, wetter kisses. the vibration of the phone stops, and his fingers continue their pace, curling into her heat, beginning to produce a squelching sound from the slick of her arousal.

“yes!” she cries into his lips, eyes nearly rolling back into her head.

“so perfect, y’know that?” he punctuates his words with the thrust of his fingers, gently biting at the girl’s bottom lip.

she’s only able to muster a moan in response, trailing her hand down her stomach to circle her neglected clit, babbling out a string of “yes yes yes yes.”

the phone vibrates harshly atop the edge of the table again, falling to the floor with a loud thud.

“fuck!” carmen exclaims, ripping his hand out of his pants. he stops curling his fingers inside of her and leans down to angrily grab his phone. the girl lets out a cry of protest.

“carmy m’so close, please,” she begs pathetically. grabbing at his arm.

“be quiet,” he hushes her, scooting back down to his previous position between her legs, “can y’do that for me?”

she nods eagerly, biting down on her lip.

carmen answers the call with a harsh “what?” and rolls his eyes at the voice that blares through the other line.

his fingers remain engulfed in her heat, and he begins to slowly curl them again. the girl lets out a sharp breath and he shoots her a warning look, mouthing a stern “quiet.”

he puts the call on speakerphone, then places it on her stomach, leaning down to softly lick her clit. the girls eyes widen in surprise. a loud voice begins to come through the phone.

“-that he was going to do it anyways, but i said ‘no way, carmy would have a fuckin’ bitch fit if we didn’t ask!’ so don’t answer the phone all fuckin’ mad, it’s not my fault,” the voice at the other line loudly rambles. carmy lifts his mouth from her pussy to respond

“jesus, richie, just look at the fucking floor plan.”

“you don’t think we tried that? the vents aren’t lining up with the floor pla- what is that sound?”

carmy curls his fingers a bit faster, pressing his tongue flat against her clit instead of answering. the girl gasps, convinced her lip is going to start bleeding from how hard she’s biting down on it.

his eyes flicker up to her, and she mouths a “what the fuck?”

like an asshole, he just grins in response.

“hello?? earth to asshole,” richie’s voice cuts in loudly, “what the fuck are you doing over there?”

carmen pulls away from her pussy with wet lips. he looks pretty, she thinks, like he has lipgloss on or something.

“m’eating dessert,” he responds truthfully. the girl’s faces grows incredibly hot.

“you wh- dessert? what is it, is it good?”

“fuck, richie, you-” he sighs, “forget about the vents,” he begins to rub gentle circles around her clit, “just have them do the pipes and go home. and stop fucking calling me.”

“you think i wanted to call you, you fuckin’ baby? it’s gonna be an extra $200 for them to come back tomorrow and…” he continues to ramble on. meanwhile the girl holds onto carmy’s shoulder, digging her nails in, trying to anchor herself. the feeling of his fingers plunging into her is incredible, and there’s an unexpected rush at the risk of being listened to. of being caught.

carmen laps at her pussy, then closes his lips around her clit and sucks gently. he keeps doing this rhythmically, curling his fingers up into her core, continually switching between gentle licks and slurping and sucking. it’s a particularly deep thrust of his fingers that make her release her lip from her teeth and cry out loudly.

“ah-!”

carmy’s eyes dart upwards at the moan, watching as she claps a hand over her mouth in shock.

“what the fuck was that?” richie’s voice sounds after a pause.

carmen, without a care that they could be caught, continues eating the girl out, giving her a look that says “you are so getting it.”

“hello?? are you watching porn or something, you fuckin’ weirdo?”

he rolls his eyes at the accustation, why would he be watching porn while on the phone?

“no, i’m not watching fucking porn, richie. finish the vents tomorrow, i’m not arguing about this anymore. goodnight.” he grows increasingly impatient, and it reflects in the quickened pace of his fingers.

“wait, wait, one more thing-”

“fuck, what?!” carmen snaps.

the girl lets out a sound of exasperation, coming up on a perpetual orgasm then being denied every time he removes his mouth. the pressure is growing to be unbearable, and she softly whines a “carmyy.”

“i know, baby, i got you,” he whispers back, barely loud enough for her to hear. he brings his mouth to suck on her clit again while richie continues yapping about the fucking vents. fuck the vents.

carmy just watches the girl’s face, tuning out the voice from the phone. he studies how flushed she is—from her cheeks all the way down to her chest. how she seems like she’s barely holding on. how her legs begin to tremble. how she tries desperately to keep from making noise, pressing her lips together firmly, eyes screwed shut, breathing ragged.

the wet, squelching sound from her pussy begins to sound again, juices flooding down his fingers, soaking his hand. it feels unbelievable and she begins to lose patience.

“carm, hang up,” she cries, much louder than she means to. richie’s voice stops in its tracks.

“are you f-what the hell are you doing?” he asks, “who is that?”

“none of your fuckin’ buisness,” carmy snaps, “the central vent is the one that’s the most fucked up, so get it sealed and go the fuck home. and don’t fucking call me again.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever. you have fun over there, assh-” carmy hangs up the phone and tosses it onto the floor.

“what the fuck, carm?” she asks exasperatedly, face fully flushed.

“you’re not very good at staying quiet.”

“you were- ah!” she loses her sentence as he dips back down to swirl her clit with his tongue.

“i was what?” he mutters into her wetness, slipping his free hand back into his pants.

“you were doing that!” she cries, tangling her fingers in his curls.

“it feel good?” he laps at her cunt, rhythmically curling his fingers.

“yeah,” she cries, “please don’t stop again. please.”

a small smirk breaks on his face at how nicely she’s able to ask, even after being tormented with interruptions moments ago. he rewards her by continuing his steady pace, keeping everything constant, coaxing an orgasm out of her.

he squeezes the head of his cock, stroking the length of it faster now. she tastes so good, and the sounds she’s making are so pretty, it’s easy to lose himself in the pleasure.

she bucks her hips against his face, getting his nose wet. her grip on his hair tightens. her body feels hotter, hotter, hotter and-

“carm-!” she gasps, “fuck, baby, that’s so good. m’gonna cum. please keep doing that pleasepleasepleasebabyyesyesyes,” she babbles, grinding her hips against his face, practically riding his fingers which curl so deliciously inside of her. the man has to force himself to not stop and make a snarky comment about how cute she sounds when she’s all fucked out like this .

with a final few curls of his fingers and another swirl of his tongue, she’s coming completely undone. her head falls back and she rides out the orgasm shakily.

he bucks his hips into his hand with fervor, groaning into her pussy as he feels himself approaching an embarrassingly easy climax.

she clenches around his fingers, and he wriggles them as deeply as he can, swirling her clit with his tongue.

the girl lets out a cry, feeling herself be pushed far past her peak, hand flying down to grab his wrist.

“ah-carm, s’too much.”

“you can take it, yeah?” he growls, rutting into his hand. he’s so close. just needs to taste her for a little longer. there’s a hot pulse surging throughout his body.

the girl’s breathing becomes loud, a rapid inhale exhale inhale exhale.

at the labored sound, he takes some mercy on her and stops moving his fingers, focusing solely on lapping at her throbbing clit. his cock twitches in his hand, and with a few final frenzied pumps, he cums into his palm.

“fuck,” he groans, resting his head on her pelvis for a moment. the two of them bask in the post-orgasm high, catching their breaths. carmen’s jaw aches a bit. he plants one last kiss on her oversensitive clit, then pulls away, easing his fingers out slowly.

“kiss me,” she pleads breathily, feeling slightly dizzy from the orgasm.

“yeah? wanna taste yourself again?” his voice is low, kind of raspy.

she nods eagerly.

he leans over and, to her surprise, shoves his fingers in her mouth, swirling them around her tongue, making sure she gets every drop she left behind. the girl enthusiastically cleans his fingers, taking them deeply into her mouth.

the moment he eases them out, he dives into her lips hungrily, shoving his tongue in her mouth, tasting the heavenly mix of her saliva and arousal.

she grabs his face and licks her cum from the side of his lips, from his chin, gathering it before kissing him frantically again.

“mm, thank you,” she mutters against his lips sweetly.

“y’welcome.” he loves how she thanks him.

the taste is intoxicating, and he’s tempted to lick her pussy again just so the both of them can continue to indulge. but there’s a sticky mess on his hand and the inside of his boxers, so he pulls away from her lips, and grabs a tissue from the box on the coffee table.

the girl’s eyes widen in surprise as he eases his cum-covered hand out of his boxers.

“is that- did you..?”

he wipes the white substance off his hand, small small teasing the edge of his lips.

“uh…yeah. that was, um… that was really hot,” he admits.

“yeah, except the part where you put me on the phone with your employee.”

“nah…” he shakes his head, a smirk on his face, “i think you liked that.”

“wha-no i did not,” her eyes widen, “it was so embarrassing.” it was embarrassing, but it really turned her on—not that he needs to know that.

“embarrassing?”

“yes, embarrassing! get that dumb grin off your face, it was!”

this only makes him smile harder, beginning to laugh.

“yeah? that why you soaked my fuckin’ fingers?”

she sits up and reaches for her tank top, a bashful expression on her face.

“no. that’s just because it felt good.”

“you were squeezing me like crazy trying to stay quiet,” he continues to try and provoke her, liking how feisty she becomes.

“give me my panties back.” the girl rolls her eyes and ignores his statement.

“what panties?” he asks cluelessly.

“carmy.”

“yeah, baby?”

she scoffs and mutters a “whatever” before standing up and slipping on her shorts. pantiless. there’s a creeping blush on her face as she wonders what he even wants them for.

“so, tomorrow?” he asks before she can walk away, “for our date?”

she pauses, then nods.

“but we’re not going to your restaurant.”

“why not?” there’s a small smirk on his face.

she gives him a look that says, because you just ate me out on the phone with the guy that would probably be serving us, dumbass, but stays quiet, beginning to walk to the stairs

carmen lets out a chuckle, and stands to follow her after cleaning his hand off. he hooks the waistband of her shorts and pulls her back. hands coming to her hips to steady her, his chest flush against her back.

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” he leans down to kiss her neck. she can feel his smirk against her skin, “you hungry? y’eat yet?”

she shakes her head no, closing her eyes at the sensation of his kisses.

“no you didn’t eat or no you’re not hungry?” he asks, nipping the skin below her earlobe.

“both,” she exhales, leaning back against him, her hands coming overtop his. she suddenly notices how big they are splayed out over her hips.

“you haven’t eaten dinner yet?” he stops kissing her.

“m’not hungry,” she breathes, “keep kissing me there.”

he removes his hands from her hips and steps back. she lets out a noise of disappointment and turns to face him with a pout. he doesn’t see this, though, already walking to the kitchen and turning on the light to make her something.

“carmy,” she calls, following him, “it’s late. let’s just go to bed.”

he ignores her, opening their cabinets to retrieve a box of spaghetti.

“hey,” she grabs his arm, leaning to meet his eyes, “come on. i wanna cuddle.”

“we will. but i’m gonna make you dinner first.” his voice is firm. he pulls his arm away from her and reaches down to grab a pot.

he’s so demanding. but the gesture makes her feel incredibly affectionate towards the man, so it’s hard to be mad at.

as he fills the pot with water, the girl snakes her arms around his waist and hugs him from behind, pressing herself flush against his back.

“thank you,” she mumbles into his shirt, taking a deep breath of their shared laundry detergent. her hand sneaks under his shirt and she drags her fingers into the deep cut of his v line.

carmen reaches his hand behind him, caressing her hip without saying anything in response.

she pulls away after a moment and he puts the pot of water on to boil.

“you eating enough?”

his question catches her off guard.

“i- what?”

“you heard me.” he crosses his arms.

she stares at him for a moment, studying his tightly set jaw. the way it twitches a bit.

“yeah, i am.”

“yeah?” he looks like he doesn’t believe her.

and maybe she had been a bit forgetful lately, missing breakfast, oftentimes coming home too tired to make dinner and opting for a snack instead. she didn't think he had been so observant, though.

“yes.” her tone is quiet.

he just stares at the girl silently, striking blue eyes boring a hole into her. she crumbles under his gaze.

“i’ve just been…stressed. i don’t know. haven’t had much of an appetite.”

“what are you stressed about?”

“going back home i guess,” she admits quietly, shuffling on her feet.

he doesn’t respond, giving her the opportunity to elaborate without pressure.

“i just- it’s gonna be hard. y’know when i told you my mom and i have a complicated relationship?”

he nods, and she continues.

“yeah, that was like…understatement of the year.”

he nods, a knowing look on his face.

“yeah, no. i, uh…i know exactly what you mean.” he really does.

“and um, she’s sick. like, not entirely there,” she points to her head, “so she gets really mean. but then she can also be the nicest, most motherly person. its just…really unpredictable.”

it was almost uncanny, the way in which he pictures donna as she gives her description.

“i, uh…yeah. i get it,” he clears his throat, “i’ve dealt with someone like that my whole life.” he intently locks eyes with her, wishing he could say more to alleviate her dread.

“how did-how do you deal with it?” she asks quietly, after a moment.

“i, uh…i don’t really?” he rubs his neck, letting out a sardonic chuckle, “i haven’t talked to her in…months probably.”

“really?”

“yeah, i’ve, um…been kind of an asshole, actually. my sister is really the only one that deals with her.”

“you’re not an asshole,” she locks eyes with him, “well, sometimes you are. but not cause of that. that’s more like a…i dunno, a defense response.”

he laughs at her bluntness.

“so i am an asshole, just not for that?”

“correct.”

“how am i an asshole?”

“you’ve been trying to make me jealous since i got here.”

“not trying. it actually worked very well.” he has a stupid smile on his face when he says that.

“shut up!” she laughs, shoving her hands against his chest as hard as she can. he barely moves from it, grabbing both her wrists firmly with an amused look on his face. she struggles against his grip, trying to shake the feeling of arousal that comes with how easily he’s able to overpower her.

“why’re you so fiesty, huh?” he grins, pulling her closer.

“cause you’re a fucker, that’s why.” she tries again to pull her arms back, but to no avail. her face feels hot, and she becomes hyper aware of the fabric touching her skin, the hair on her neck, the tingle of the rough grip on her wrists. his face is much closer now, and she fights the urge to lean forward and indulge.

“yeah?”

“mhm,” her response overlaps his.

“what are you gonna do about it?” he mocks, “huh?”

her eyes flicker down his face. he has a stupid fucking smirk plastered on his lips. fuck, she wants to kiss him.

an idea pops into her head.

the girl leans forward, gently ghosting her lips over his own. her tongue darts out and she licks his bottom lip, then sucks it into her mouth and bites softly. then she gives him a soft and gentle barely there kiss.

she feels his grasp on her wrist loosen, so she splays her hand over his chest.

her lips hover over his for just a moment more, and then she shoves him.

carmy stumbles back slightly, less prepared that time, hands coming behind him to steady himself on the counter. when he meets her eyes again he has a dark glint in his eyes. almost like anger, but hungrier.

the next thing she knows, he yanks her into his chest, grabs her hip and roughly bends her over the countertop.

she just thinks to herself, finally.

carmen tugs her hips back until her forearms fall to the counter and she arches her spine. until she’s flush with his pelvis and he’s pressing his achingly hard cock against her ass.

“such a bratty fuckin’ girl,” his tone is rough, strained. “you know that? fuckin’ had it with you.”

“i’m n-” she cuts herself off with a gasp as he harshly tugs the waistband of her shorts up, wedging the fabric between her cheeks and giving himself a nice view of the supple skin.

“you’re what?” he smooths his hand over her ass, watching her arch into his touch. watching as she opens her mouth to say something, then close, staying silent and shuffling her hips against his groin.

carmen lets out a groan—half frustration, half arousal, smoothing his hands over her hamstrings and firmly squeezing the soft flesh before trailing back up to her ass.

“you doing this on purpose?” both hands grab her ass, kneading, pulling her closer against his hardness.

no response. she can’t, not without moaning.

“hmm?” he shoves his hips forward into her, “you trying to get a reaction outta me tonight? or are y’really just that fucking bratty?” the hand gripping her flesh squeezes harder.

“i-mmh…that-…keep doing that.” she chooses to ignore his question.

“answer me.”

still nothing.

“you want me to spank you? cause that’s what’s gonna happen if you keep this shit up.”

his words make her stomach flip. of course she does. she hides her smile in her arms and stays quiet, pushing back into him. hoping he’ll stick to his words.

carmen raises his hand, and cracks it down on her right cheek, grabbing the flesh immediately after to ease some of the sting.

“ah-!” she grips the countertop, arching her spine. his hand leaves behind a hot, tingling sensation, flooding through her body like a wave.

“y’okay?” he tries to sound caring but his tone comes out rough, heavy with arousal.

“yeah.” better than okay. incredibly horny, actually. “that hurt?” his hand smooths over the reddening skin.

“no,” she shakes her head, pushing back against him again, “thought you were gonna spank me.”

she cranes her neck trying to get a look at the man. his pupils are blown, face is rosy, and when she meets his eyes there’s a dangerous glint to them.

he wedges her shorts up higher, exposing more of her ass, then smacks her in the same spot without warning. harder this time.

“fuck-!” she gasps sharply. it hurts, but in a way that has her pressing her thighs together desperately to try and get some relief.

“can you take one more, pretty girl?”

“yeah,” she whines enthusiastically, shuffling her hips back against his groin.

“yeah? y’so tough, baby.” his voice has a slight mocking edge to it as he does everything in his power to not yank the shorts down her legs and fuck her into the counter.

“just…shut up and do it.” she tries to mask her eagerness, but it doesn’t work very well.

he scoffs, and rubs his large hand over her supple skin. when he feels her relax, he raises it and cracks down on her other cheek.

she partially muffles the loud cry by biting down on her forearm, feeling a few tears begin to form in her eyes.

“you have such a cute ass, y’know that?” he squeezes both of her cheeks in tandem, pulling them apart, pushing them together, “can already see the handprints forming.” his voice is low and rough.

“wh-really?” her brain feels fuzzy with desire as she tries to switch gears.

“you wanna see?”

she nods her head frantically, butterflies arising at the thought.

carmen pulls his phone out of his back pocket and holds it over her, snapping a picture with a low groan.

“look back at me,” he demands softly.

she does, peering over her right shoulder to see him holding the camera facing her. the embarrassment makes her face feel hot, but she lets him take the picture anyway, looking into the lense with a small pout on her face.

“so fucking pretty,” he growls, lowering the phone and clicking on the picture he took, admiring it for a moment before turning the phone so she could see.

it was quite the picture—cherry red handprints over her round ass, shorts wedged up so far they look like underwear, the curves of her body accentuated by the angle.

carmy swipes to the left and reveals the photo of her looking back at the camera, all flushed cheeks and pouty lips and misty eyes. she knows she should probably feel embarrassed, but seeing herself like that just makes the throbbing between her legs intensify.

carmen turns off the phone and puts it back in his pocket. he leans over and grabs her face, studying her with furrowed brows before leaning down kissing her firmly.

“you okay?” another kiss, “really?”

she nods, eagerly reciprocating the kiss, moaning a soft “mhm” against his lips.

“didn’t hurt too bad?” his brows are furrowed, their movements beginning to quicken. she slips her tongue into his mouth and she begins to kiss him faster, losing herself in his lips.

carmy reciprocates for a moment before muttering a gentle “hey,” pulling back a bit, “answer me.” his gaze flickers over the sheen on her cheeks, left behind from a few stray tears.

her eyes flutter open, fighting the urge to not chase his lips.

“it didn’t hurt,” she affirms hazily, “felt good. can you put it in? please?”

“jesus, christ” he groans, dipping back in for another kiss, “want me to fuck you? needy fuckin’ girl.”

she nods with a small, bashful smile and softly nips at his bottom lip, fighting the urge to bite harder.

carmen straightens to his previous position behind her and slips his fingers beneath the hem of her bunched up shorts. he pulls them to the side to reveal her glistening pussy, letting out a sharp exhale at the sight. he’s about to reach out and touch her when she gasps.

“carm, the water.”

it angrily bubbles and pours down the sides of the pot, sizzling when it splashes onto the flames.

“fuck,” he pulls away from her, quickly moving to turn off the burner. “stay right there.”

and she would’ve, had another fucking phone not started ringing.

the girl cries out his name frustratedly, just wanting him to come back over and fuck her brains out.

“it’s not mine this time,” carmy defends, adjusting the tent of his pants. he’s so hard it’s almost painful, increasingly eager to get back behind her.

she huffs and straightens, readjusting the uncomfortably wedged-up shorts as she follows the sound of the ringer. when she retrieves her phone from between the couch cushions, her heart drops at the contact name.

mom.

in a single moment it’s like the air gets sucked from her lungs. her skin stops tingling with that warm heat, body stops buzzing with pleasure—all the good feelings flood from her suddenly.

carmen wipes down the stove, drying the water that had boiled over before refilling the pot and turning the heat back on. his roommate talks in a hushed, urgent tone in the living room, and he tries to refrain from curiously moving closer and eavesdropping. curiosity almost gets the better of him, but a few more moments pass and he hears delicate footsteps approaching.

he looks up, and catches the sight of her tear-streaked face. her big, sad eyes. a pit forms in his stomach.

“everything okay?” he’s unable to hide the concern in his tone.

she doesn’t say anything. she can’t. so she just rushes forward and crashes into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“hey,” he soothes, tightly reciprocating the hug, “what happened?” he kisses the side of her head.

it takes her a minute before she’s able to verbalize, just wanting to nuzzle herself as far into his chest as she can, wishing she could just disappear into him completely.

he says her name, pulling away slightly to get a look at her sweet, sad face. “what’s goin’ on, huh?”

“i’m going back next week,” it’s hard to make eye contact with him, so she looks to the side with blurry vision.

“what?” it’s like a punch in the stomach.

“i-…my mom,” she sighs exasperatedly, “she’s just getting worse,” at this point the tears stream down her cheeks.

he cups her face with both hands, wiping them away with his thumbs. he just stares at her, not knowing exactly what to say to make this shitty situation better.

“i’m-….fuck, i’m sorry.” he puts his forehead on hers, “m’so so sorry.” he doesn’t know exactly what he’s apologizing for—the state of her mother or the dread of her sudden departure. either way, there’s this overwhelming feeling of loss trying to wrap his head around how soon next week really is.

“m’gonna go to bed,” she mutters, tightly closing her eyes to stop the flow of tears, nose brushing against his.

“you don’t wanna eat with me?”

she gives a small shake of her head, having lost her appetite at the news.

carmy wants to push it. but she just looks so tired and sad, he figures it’s better not to. his hand comes to the back of her neck, and he pulls her into a bear hug, kissing the side of her head.

“go wait in my bed for me,” another kiss, “i’ll be up in a bit.”

“i need a shower,” she mutters into his neck, “you made me all…sticky.”

he can’t help but let out a humorous exhale, finding a small bit of relief from her words.

“yeah? sorry about that.” he has a soft, barely there smile on his face.

“you know i love you, carmy?”

her quiet confession stops his train of thought. stops the noise of it all. it kind of feels like it even stops his heart, just for a second.

it was something she hadn’t yet said to him without the hazy high of lust. something she had been waiting on until it felt real.

carmen eases away from the tight hug, getting a good look at her face. she’s entirely genuine, brows furrowed and eyes glossy, searching his expression for reassurance. he dips forward and kisses her softly, hand caressing her cheek.

“i know,” his thumb traces along her jaw, “i love you too.”

she turns her head to the side and kisses his hand.

“you gonna come to california with me?” she softly bites his thumb.

“yeah, baby.” he nods. it’s a lie, and they both know that.

sometimes it’s easier to fantasize about what could be than accept what never will.

it’s far too late into the night by the time carmen has eaten and showered. he blearily trudges down the hall and pushes his door open. and like a breath of fresh air, there she was. cuddled up in his blankets, face buried in his pillow. it feels incredibly domestic, and he finds himself wishing he could come home to this every night of his life.

carmen eases into bed slowly as to not wake her, shuffling his body against hers. then he just watches her for a bit.

he watches her chest rise and fall. watches the way her lips slightly part with her heavy breaths. she looks so peaceful unconscious, like there isn’t a worry in the world.

he thinks about how selfishly he wants to keep that placating expression on her face. wants to keep her to himself. thinks about how selfishly he wishes she didn’t even have a family to return to—how fucked up is that? it’s almost surreal, staring at her sleeping form, mourning her loss while she’s still in front of him. tangible and soft and beautiful and sleeping right there.

carmen reaches out and strokes her cheek at the thought, then leans in to press a gentle kiss to her resting lips. it doesn’t make him feel better like he thought it would.

he turns off the light and pulls her in close.

pt 2 of i didn't know

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagine #the bear imagine

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