#and will did grow into that dark potential! but in doing so he had to basically leave a significant part of himself behind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollfacefantasy · 4 months ago

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I WANNA BE YOURS ♡

pairing: logan howlett x puppy-hybrid!fem!reader

summary: logan finds you, a special kind of mutant, out on a mission. when he takes in this puppy girl, you quickly forms a bond to him. he tries to tell himself he doesn't like his new shadow or want the attention, but it gets harder to deny as the two of you grow closer.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), hybrids, breeding kink, praise kink, dumbification, fluff, canon-typical violence, blood, nightmares

a/n: thank you so much to @gor3-hound and @nexysworld for beta reading <33

Adamantium strains against the skin between Logan's knuckles as his fists collide with his opponents' bodies. His claws beg to come out, to slice through his own skin and into the men he's striking. Despite causing himself pain, it would make this little struggle easier.

Regardless, he reigns in the urge and continues to fight without them. He didn't need them yet. Having a skeleton of impenetrable metal served as the only weapon he needed for right now. These guys taking him on weren't anything special, simple lackeys hired to protect a facility they didn't even understand the operation of.

His unpierced knuckles land a few strikes to one's abdomen, and he pops the other's face with his elbow. He whips his forearm around and slams the first to the ground in a finishing blow. The other man comes crashing down close behind after he connects his fist with the center of his face.

He looks at both of them crumpled up and unconscious on the ground, shaking off the adrenaline from the scuffle with a few rolls of his shoulders. He swipes the set of keys that hang off the belt of one who went down first and reconvenes with the rest of the team at the point of entrance to the next part of this warehouse.

"Did you find a way to open the doors?" Storm asks him. The white-haired woman struts beside him to the large cement doors at the end of the hallway.

Logan holds up the set of metallic keys, giving them a little jingle as his answer.

"Wow, and without shedding any blood. Impressive," Cyclops mocks from behind. Him and Jean walk a couple paces to the back of him, their eyes scanning for any potential hindrances to the mission.

"Night's not over yet, bub."

The four of them reach the door, and fortunately, it only takes a few tests to determine which key is meant for this lock. Before either Logan or Storm can push the barrier open, the door swings back under the force of Jean's telepathy.

They head inside but brace themselves for what they might see. This mission came about after the professor discovered that this building was being used as some kind of location to traffic mutants. The team had dealt with cases like this before, and they were never pretty. Often, the victims were young and struggling, picked up off the street or gathered from false mutant shelters to be sold into a life of experimentation or fetishization.

Upon first glance, this section of the building holds nothing new. The room isn't large in comparison to the others before it and looks more like a connector between the last hallway and another one. It's dark, not much light to get a good look at anything that could be hiding away.

Storm is eager to keep moving along and guides them towards the entrance to the next hallway. His other two teammates overtake him as well and follow behind her.

"I'm gonna sniff around here for a minute. I'll be right behind you," Logan says and waves them forward.

The two women spare him a skeptic glance, but Scott couldn't be more eager to part from him. They head off in the other direction, leaving Logan alone in the quiet between these four walls.

He just wanted to be sure there was nothing here, whether it be something he could help or something meaning to do them harm. Though he kind of hoped it was the latter. He never felt very good at the 'saving' part of being on this team. Let him go in a room full of threats, and he was guaranteed to be successful. He'd take every last one down in record time and not even have to think twice about it. But give him one person to comfort and tell that everything is gonna be ok, and that would have him breaking a sweat. It's not that he couldn't do it; he simply had to work at it. He didn't have to work at being a weapon.

Treading over the pavement cautiously, Logan's eyes sweep over the few vacant shelves and lonely crates. The room truly seemed unoccupied. He could probably only justify a few more feet before having to go join the rest of the team. But then he sees it.

A cage towards the back of the room, a tarp over the top. It sat near a smaller door he hadn't noticed before. He wasn't too concerned with going in just yet. First he wanted to see if anything was confined behind those thin black bars.

It was larger than a simple pet kennel but too small to give the impression that held anything monstrous. He walks closer to it. No sound came from it nor could he see any movement, but his curiosity had been triggered. He had to know why this thing had been secluded.

Once he's close enough, he crouches down and pushes away the rough white material draped over it. His fingers undo the latch and open the door so he could get a better look inside.

He peers in and is met with a pair of eyes staring back at him out of the darkness. His first instinct is to back up and get into a defensive position, but whatever's inside doesn't give him the chance.

You lunge at him and knock him flat onto his back.

He hits the cement with a grunt, and his claws cry out to him again. He could easily unsheathe them and tear whatever you were to shreds. But before he does this, he realizes that this isn't an attack. He's not in any kind of pain. In fact, nothing is really happening to him. All you were doing was... sniffing him?

He could hear your rapid inhales and exhales as your nose trailed along the collar of his white tank top. Straining his neck back as much as he can, he finally gets a good look at you. You were human - smaller than most with wide, curious eyes - but you also had floppy ears erupting from your scalp and a long tail coming from your backside that was whipping back and forth.

Even with all the different kinds of mutants he'd seen, he couldn't help thinking this was bizarre at first glance. He knew it was possible for mutations to express physically even though most were internal. For god's sake he had literal claws and knew multiple people who were straight up blue. But he'd never seen anything like this.

You looked like just a mix of canine and human. In honesty, you were pretty cute. You didn't look like the type of thing someone would shout 'freak' at from across the street. Hybrid was probably a more accurate descriptor than mutant. Either way, he didn't want you on top of him.

"Quit it," he growls before grabbing your waist and pushing you off. Based on the fact that you weren't attacking, he assumes you're a victim rather than a perpetrator. He rises to his feet to stand above you, ready to fight just in case. "What the hell are you supposed to be?"

You sit there, tail still wagging despite his rough temperament. Your eyes have that gleam that likens your appearance to a puppy even more than your ears or tail do. He realizes you might not be able to talk or something, but he doesn't get too far with that thought before you speak.

"A mutant. Like you."

His eyes narrow.

"Yeah? How do you know I'm a mutant?" he asks. He hadn't shown you his claws and you hadn't seen his skin magically stitch itself back together. Maybe you were on the other side of this mission.

"I can smell it," you answer.

That makes his eyebrow slowly raise. "Smell it?" he says.

You nod. "Mutants smell different than humans," you say.

You rise to your feet and stand next to him. Leaning in again, you smell his arm. Your head moves down his bicep and to his elbow and forearm. He pulls his limb away with a scowl, but you'd already had a chance to register the scent that'd caught your attention.

"You smell metallic too," you say.

So your canine traits weren't just physical. Logan knew you weren't lying, having an enhanced olfaction himself. He'd just never met someone else who also had that ability.

"Your mutation is basically just being an overgrown dog then?" he asks with a bemused expression, "You like playing fetch? Want me to call you a good girl?"

You can't help the automatic twitch in your tail when you hear that phrase, but your expression darkens as if a storm cloud had formed inches above those folded ears.

"I'm not a dog. If I'm a dog, are you like a robot since you have metal in you?" you huff and cross your arms.

A sharp puff of air comes from his nostrils at your attempted retort. "Robot isn't exactly what they call me."

You grumble and roll your eyes. Your tail had gone still behind you and hung between your legs.

He continues to stare down at you, trying to decide what to do next. Even though you were a mutant, you didn't seem to be a fighter or have any skills that would be useful in combat. He wasn't just going to leave you here, but he didn't know how big a risk it would be to let you tag along.

"What are you doing here? Did someone lock you in that cage, or is that just where you spend your free time?" he asks.

"Someone took me and locked me in there," you say, your pout deepening.

"For how long?"

You shrug. Logan has the urge to roll his eyes just as you did, but he can tell your lack of knowledge is genuine.

"You don't know how long you were in there?" he prompts.

"No. Maybe like... a couple weeks or something. I don't know. It's hard to keep track."

Of course. Just like a puppy, you had a poor concept of time. He shakes his head and rubs his hand over his face. It did look like you'd been captive for a few weeks. You weren't in the best shape and had bruises littering your body. Your clothes were dirty and torn at the hems. As annoying as he found you in the few minutes he'd known you, he knew you didn't deserve this treatment. Locking a cute little thing like you in a cage was plain cruelty.

"Alright. Well what's your name? I'm Logan," he sighs.

You tell him, but just as the last syllable leaves your lips, footsteps burst into the room from the direction of the hallway.

Scott and Jean round the corner, clearly looking for their teammate. Logan turns around to see the new arrivals and relaxes when he recognizes the man in the visor and the redhead beside him.

"There you are. We thought you took off or something," Scott mocks casually.

He opens his mouth to respond, but the words dissolve when he feels a thud against his back.

You don’t recognize the people who'd just shown up, so you hide yourself behind the man who found you. Pressing yourself against his back, you cautiously tilt your head to his side to peek at Scott and Jean. Your fingers clutch the fabric of Logan's tank top so tight they threaten to poke little holes in the ribbed material.

"What- what are you doing?" he grunts and tries to look over his shoulder at you. The way you were latched onto him prevented him from turning around fully. He lifts one of his arms to see your eyes scoping out the potential danger in front of him.

"Get- C'mon get off. They're not gonna hurt you," he continues, brushing you off by reaching back and lightly tugging your hair.

You stumble to the side, and he manages to grab your shoulders and walk you in front of him. He holds you there, presenting you to Scott and Jean. The way your ears pin back to your head makes him feel a little guilty about making you confront the strangers so directly, but they weren't gonna do anything to you. Assuming they were gonna rescue you and take you back to Xavier's, you'd have to get used to prying eyes and meeting new people.

Both Scott and Jean look at you curiously, Jean with less confusion than Scott. Clearly, he had a similar thought process to Logan while the woman next to him could sense that you were a mutant and what your abilities were.

"I found her in that cage back there," he explains.

The two of them nod. They take a few more moments to simply observe you before they move closer and ask for your name. You give it just like you had to Logan. They nod again and then begin running through a similar routine of questions. Theirs are more detailed though and manage to coax more information out of you.

Your responses give them a quick little rundown of you. You fit the profile of the people they usually found on these missions. You're young, early 20s, struggling because getting a job was nearly impossible with your ears and tail. You had no family. They'd given you up after your mutation began to manifest. Everyone thinks puppies are cute, but apparently, no one wanted a human child that shared features with them. You'd been taken from the shelter you were staying at like most others who found themselves in this situation.

As you answer each one posed to you, Logan feels you subtly sinking back against him. Your back meets his abdomen like two magnets slowly being pulled together. Despite the annoyed look on his face, he doesn't say anything or pull away.

When the brief interrogation comes to a close, Scott relays to Logan that they had found other victims in another part of the facility. Storm was with them now, guiding them to the extraction point where they'd be taken to safety. The four of you just had to follow along.

Scott and Jean lead the way. Logan follows behind and you trot along beside him. He notices you're staying close to him in particular.

"Did the guys who took you say anything else about why they wanted you?" he asks. The fact that you were kept separate was still lingering in his mind. To him it didn't mean anything good.

You shrug and look up at him. "They didn't really talk to me that much unless they were being mean or spitting at me. Or kicking the cage," you say.

You say it like it's casual, but he can tell it hurts. He knows how it feels to an extent. All mutants do. Not many people will openly talk shit about a guy with metal claws, but the sentiment is still there. The idea that you're inferior. That something is wrong with you. That you don't belong in this life.

He just nods, not knowing much else to offer as comfort. "Did you ever overhear them talking about you? Any reason they wouldn't have put you with the others?"

"I think they wanted to figure out if there was more of me. Or if they could make anymore at least," you say after taking a moment to think, "Cause you know. Guys like the whole puppy thing. Makes me worth more I guess."

He cringes at the ugly picture you paint with those words.

The group of you continues walking, footsteps being the only sound in the hallway. Your tail had started wagging again which makes him feel a little better about not offering anything in terms of reassurance. But when you reach the room where the other victims had been, your tail comes to a halt and droops between your legs.

A party of men is spread throughout the area. They walk around scanning the now empty space, visibly incensed at their captives being freed. You slide yourself against Logan's back again, but you don't try to peek at them like you did with Scott and Jean. It doesn't take much to figure out that these are the ones who kept you in that cage.

They hear the team and you approaching and turn to face you. Despite your efforts to hide, they spot you before you're completely concealed behind the bulk of Logan's muscular frame. The one closest scowls at your attempt.

"I'm guessing the three of you know what happened to the things we had in here?" he says, sarcasm lacing each word.

"You could say that. And those people are long gone by now, so it's probably best you move on," Scott answers. His fingers rise to his temple in preparation to operate his visor.

The men don't seem to be threatened. The amalgamation of them tightens, forming a more crowded cluster.

"Yeah, you're probably right. But you're not leaving with that one," the same one says and gestures to you hiding, "She stays here."

"Not gonna happen, bub," Logan responds so quickly it surprises even himself.

His teammates also look interested in his seeming budding attachment to you, but they know better than to squabble in front of adversaries.

You are the only one the words don't strike in any sort of way, but that's because you didn't totally hear them. You're too busy trembling, hoping with everything you had that Logan wouldn't force you in front of him again and then kick you into the group of guys.

But obviously, that doesn't happen. There's more arguing that you don't hear because you choose to tune it out. You can sense Logan becoming more agitated and the air around everyone becoming more tense. Your body grows more rigid, your ears glued back to your scalp. You just want this to be over.

As these thoughts whirl through your mind, the arguing comes to a head, and Logan launches away from you. You feel naked without his large body shielding yours.

Scott and Jean aid him. Your first inclination is to turn the other direction and just try to stay out of the way. You weren't confident in your combat skills. If you could seriously fight, you probably wouldn't have gotten snatched up. You didn't want to be the reason any of these people who were trying to help you got hurt.

But then you see someone coming up behind Logan brandishing a knife. It's out of your control, the way your muscles go taut and your lip curls back. You'd only ever been in a real fight once before in your life, and you don't remember feeling this vicious. You spring up behind the man, finding where his shoulder meets his neck and biting down hard.

The cries of agony and grunts of anger seem to go on forever. The smell of blood invades your nostrils as you deal with your target. He'd fallen to the floor when your teeth sunk into his flesh. You feel him thrashing underneath you as you rip and tear, but you don't stop until he's gone still. You then pull off and wipe your mouth, twisting around to sit on the abdomen of your incapacitated enemy.

Logan also had no difficulty dealing with the men coming at him. There were just more of them, so he took a little longer. After one last thud of a body crumpling to the floor, only heavy breathing sounds through the warehouse.

Jean and Scott seem fine. They stand there checking each other over, and you see them share a brief kiss. You glance over towards Logan next and decide to return to his side.

He's alone. The sounds of panting are mostly coming from him. His body glistens, muscles lightly coated in perspiration. His scent is stronger to you now, and it only grows more overwhelming as you approach him. Men lie at his feet with pools of blood around them, presumably the same crimson liquid that stains his hands, wrists, and forearms in streaks.

You make your next move without thinking. Coming up to his side, trying in vain to avoid getting your ratty socks soaked with blood, you press your cheek against his bicep and snake your arms around his.

He then looks down at you. His eyebrows raise at the blood that coats your mouth and chin and trails down your shirt. You hadn't seemed like any type of predator before. Your presence was more akin to a puppy that'd be torn apart by wolves than anything that could do anyone harm.

"How'd you do that?" he asks.

Your finger rises and hooks under your upper lip, pulling it back to reveal your canines, sharper than a normal person's.

He nods and watches you with some mixture of curiosity, irritation, and fondness.

"Pretty good," he says simply.

You beam at the praise, blood-stained lips parting into a wide smile. He feels your tail wag harder and brush against the back of his leg.

The touch is nice. It makes him more conscious of the way you're still holding onto him, your hand curled around his muscle and your hip against his. He's not sure what it is. A silent thank you, a note of understanding, or a pledge of loyalty.

But he doesn't need a thank you, someone to understand him or devote themself to him. He's just doing what he's supposed to.

He slides his arm out of your clutches and gently pats you on the head.

"C'mon, let's get going," he says and starts walking towards the exit.

You trot wordlessly behind him, which he's grateful for. But more than that, he's just happy Scott didn't have anything to say about your sudden bond to him.

Once the jet picked you up from the extraction point, the trip back to the school was a breeze. You mostly keep to yourself while trying to stick close to Logan. He sits you next to him and cleans up your face, but you sleep for most of the actual traveling time to the destination.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until the seat hit your back and the buckles of the seat belt latched over your chest. With that manifestation of security, your eyes began drooping and your head was drifting to your shoulder like it was your center of gravity.

Logan's voice is what wakes you up. It's unclear to you how much time has passed, but that doesn't bother you. You feel him gently jostling you before unbuckling the straps across your chest. He calls your name a few times until your bleary eyes open and focus on his face.

"There you are," he says, "C'mon. We're here."

You still watch him without saying a word. Your hand rubs over your face to try and pull yourself closer to being awake. He watches you before offering his hand.

"I'm not carrying you, so you need to get up," he says in a tone you were becoming familiar with. It sounded irritated but not directly at you. Like this man was just in a constant state of being pissy about something.

You take the offer regardless and let him pull you to your feet. The two of you exit the jet together, him helping you out to ensure you don't trip on the gap between the ramp and the ground.

Once you're out, your eyes widen. You expected a boarding school to be pretty fancy, but this was nicer than any place you'd ever been. The walls stretched up the sky, crafted with bricks and decorated with large glass windows. The path there was paved and bordered with kept plants. You could see beyond that though. The large expanse of the property. So much space to run and do things.

Logan watches your reaction with amusement. "It's a lot to take in when you first get here," he says.

You nod, and your eyes continue to dart around and absorb the sight of everything. Storm and Jean lead the others who were saved off to another part of the building to be reunited with their families or taken back to their lives or even given verifiable resources. But you don't want to go with them.

You grab Logan's hand and look up at him, shaking your head.

His first reaction is to try and pull his hand free of you, but you have a tighter grip than expected. "What? What's the matter?" he asks you while still trying worm his hand out of your finger's lock.

You don't know how to articulate it because what you want is very simple. You want to stay with him. You want to stay here. You don't want to go back out to the world where people point and laugh at you or turn you away from everything. You just don't know how to say that without it seeming weird.

Luckily for you, Scott gives you a bit of help. You're not sure if that's his intention or not, but either way, you're grateful for the help.

"Maybe we should take her to the Professor. He might want to see about her mutation or ask her about that stuff back there," he tells Logan. You can tell from the way Scott speaks that he doesn't really like him too much.

Logan thinks about it for a moment before nodding. Before leading you there, he uses his other hand to pry your fingers off of him. You frown at the loss of connection and shoot him a glare. That brings an actual smile to his face.

"Follow along, pup. Don't need you getting lost," he says as he turns to guide you down the halls of the school.

The sun hadn't even risen, so not too many people occupied the common rooms. You catch sight of a few. They stare back at you, but unlike what you're used to, they don't look at you with disdain or mocking. It's simple, innocent curiosity. The only thing that seems to worry them is the bright red stain going down the front of your shirt.

Inside the room had been an older guy in a wheelchair. The professor talked the nicest out of all the men you'd been around today. When he looked at you, you felt like he understood you. He didn't even seem perplexed like Scott or Logan had. He'd merely said you were "interesting."

He talked to you for a while. He asked similar questions similar to the ones you already answered, but the third round of them got even deeper than the last two. Once he revealed that he could enter your thoughts if he wanted, that made a lot of sense.

Though he didn't really need his ability to understand you. Your experiences were written all over your face, practically sewn into the seams of your clothes.

He could see how, like every mutant, you led a life dominated by rejection. But in a different way than most others of your kind, you were vaguely familiar. Seeing someone with a tongue ten feet long or with blue skin or claws was jarring. It was weird.

But you - you look like a cute puppy. You walk the line between disturbing and endearing.

Charles can also see how you long for belonging even deeper than most. It's as if your mutation gives you the drive to seek out affection, for someone to devote yourself to. He can tell this by the way you linger around Logan.

If he moved an inch, you followed in the same direction. If he looked away, your eyes followed along. You were only settled if he was looking at you, not in danger of leaving your vicinity.

After talking to you for a while, hearing about your abilities and getting to understand your personality, he offers to let you stay at the school. He tells you it might be beneficial for you, and if you don't like it, you're welcome to leave anytime. It's only meant to give you a chance to understand your gifts and learn to control them and use them for good.

Of course, you accept. It wasn't even a question.

"Wonderful. Scott, show her to the extra rooms she can stay in and the shower so she can clean up a bit," Charles says. He watches as your eyes flit to Logan and then Scott. He also sees Scott's uncertainty as to why he was given this job.

But he nods and gestures for you to follow him, which you reluctantly do.

You trail him silently up the stairs, and he gives you a little guide to where everything is. He gestures at the direction of the student wing and the staff wing and then takes you to the latter. He points out the different bedrooms and grabs you a change of clothes on the way to the bathrooms.

He's nice to you. A little stiff, but he still smiles and laughs softly at quips he makes or your skeptical reactions to things. You want to ask him about his sunglasses, but you figure that'd be rude so you refrain. When he leaves you at the bathroom door, he tells you to just call if you need anything cause he's right down the hall.

Stepping inside, you peer around the expansive room. You'd never seen a bathroom so large. It was nice like everything else was in this place. The counter was spotless and smooth. The tile was sleek with a soft mat beneath your feet at the door and waiting for you in front of the shower.

You undress yourself quickly and turn on the water, waiting for it to heat before stepping inside. There's some products on the shelf inside that you use. You lather the soap on your hands and rub it over yourself fast. It felt really good, especially since you hadn't had a proper shower while being held captive. But you still work at a sped up pace. Although the novelty of everything had impressed you at first, you were beginning to yearn to be by Logan again. It wasn't a need that would make you lose control, just a little itch like a bug crawling up the path of your veins.

Downstairs, Charles kept Logan behind in his office so the two could talk. They briefly recap the mission before moving to the subject that was the true reason for the extended conversation.

"It seems she's quite taken with you," the older man starts simply.

"I guess," Logan responds, his voice unamused with the idea.

Charles huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He goes to say something else, but the other man carries on the conversation himself.

"She'll get over it. She's like a little duck following around the first person she sees," he says and crosses his arms.

"I think you underestimate her intelligence, Logan. She's not a helpless animal-"

"I know that," he interjects quickly.

"She's one of us. She's formed an attachment to you for whatever reason. I would like her to stay here for at least for a little while to examine the traits of her mutation. I've never seen any that so closely mimic an already existing animal," he explains, "But I want to know that you're ok with that."

Logan scoffs. "Why wouldn't I be? That doesn't have anything to do with me."

"While she's here, she's most likely going to want to be around you. I just wanted to make sure that's not something you're wholly uncomfortable with."

"Please. I can handle it," he dismisses.

Charles watches him, ever-entertained by how hard he tries to present the idea that he's unaffected.

"If you say so," he says, "Just try not to scare off too quickly."

"I'll play nice," he says.

A few more words, and he's dismissed. He turns on his heel and heads out the same doors he entered. Just as he does, you glide down the stairs into his field of vision, tail wagging lazily behind you over the waistband of the sweats Scott gave you.

When you see him, it swishes a bit faster and your ears perk up. His eyes narrow.

"What are you doing down here? Didn't Scott show you where to go?" he asks.

You nod and prance down the remaining steps. Truthfully, you'd been seeking the man before your eyes, but you couldn't just say that.

"Am I not allowed to look around?" you ask.

His eyes remain hard on your face. "Aren't you tired? Mauling that guy didn't take anything out of you?"

A subtle pout forms on your lips, and you consider retreating back to the bedroom you'd been given. He clearly wasn't in the mood for you right now.

Logan sees the reaction his words brought on. He feels that little sliver of guilt shifting around inside him. Maybe his phrasing hadn't been the best... but then again why did he give a shit?

"How about we just get you back to bed? I'll show you around more tomorrow," he suggests.

You take what you can get and nod, your features slightly elevating at the form of peace he offers you. He retraces your steps up the stairs and down the hall with you on his heels. He spots the room Scott had picked for you. The door was ajar from how you'd left it to go find him.

He leads you inside but remains in the doorway himself. There really wasn't any reason to stay, so he should probably be leaving...

"Have you been here a long time?" you ask suddenly.

His eyes land on you again. You were perched on the end of your bed that was still fully made up, the comforter tucked in and everything.

"What?" he asks.

"Have you been here long? Scott said he's been here since he was a teenager," you say.

"Oh. No. Only a little while," he says. "I'm still pretty new here too."

That makes you happy, it's obvious from the hope that gleams in your eyes. "Are you like a teacher too? Or... something else?"

"What would that something else be?" he asks with a smirk, taking a few steps into the room with you, "Having a hard time picturing me teaching?"

"Well I just mean-" you try to justify before laughing a little, giving in, "Yeah. I can't really see it."

"Me neither. I'm not a teacher. I just help out sometimes," he says.

He walks even closer to you, causing your head to tilt up to look at him. Now you really looked like a puppy.

This close, he was all you could smell. You could see every individual hair on his forearm. It felt as though you could hear the strong beat of his heart. His eyes pierced into you from above, and you wondered if he was observing you in a similar manner.

"You gonna sleep on top of these blankets?" he asks.

The mention of something else besides him snaps you out of your little Logan-centric daze. You look around at the bedding and then back up at his head. The two styled points of dark hair look like he has two ears of his own mirroring yours.

"No. I'll fix them," you say and stand up to tug them free, "I don't need you to tuck me in."

"I wasn't offering to. I just don't want you getting up and trying to 'look around' again. Don't need you getting lost and wandering to my bed."

The idea brings heat to your cheeks and neck. It sounded nice for so many reasons. But the bed you had now outmatched the hard bottom of the cage you'd been sleeping on, so you weren't going to try and swing for more.

Once the comforter and sheets are peeled down, you climb back on the bed and sit against the pillows. There's a small pause. A puddle of silence pooling between the two of you. You don't know what else to ask, but you feel if you don't say anything he's gonna leave. So you pull out the first thing you can think of.

"What is your actual mutation?"

His brows rise with interest, and he closes the gap between you by sitting on the edge of your bed. Curiosity shines from his eyes onto you, silently questioning why you wanted to know.

"I know you're not actually a robot, but I can still smell the metal and stuff. What does it do?" you ask.

"The metal isn't my mutation," he says.

He raises his fist about a foot away from your face. His fingers are balled up tight against his hand. You cock your head, wondering what he's showing you.

Before you can ask any questions though, three shining metal claws emerge from between his knuckles. They come out slowly, a pace prolonged enough to be considered teasing. Your eyes widen at the sharp points and you scoot back, smooshing the pillows against your head board. All you can wonder is if he didn't take them out earlier or if you really had missed something so monumental.

His laugh rises in volume. "Relax, I'm not gonna cut you."

The claws come to a halt when fully extended. You wait just in case something else is going to happen, but nothing does. You bring your finger up and poke at the hard surface. They were so beautiful but unnatural too. You'd never seen anything like them.

"But I didn't see anywhere for them to come out?" you say softly.

He flexes his hand and extends his fingers, retracting the claws much quicker than they appeared.

"There is no place for them to come out of," he says and offers you his hand.

You frown at the little cuts the sharp rods left in their wake, but like little zippers, they close up. You blink at his hand. All evidence of his mutation was gone.

"So you can heal? And you have claws?" you say more to yourself than him, "Does it still hurt when they come out?"

He nods and watches you examine his hand.

Upon seeing his confirmation, you can't even help what you do next. You pull his limb a little closer and kiss each spot where a claw had emerged. Every phantom cut gets a soft smooch left where it would soon reappear.

"What are you doing?" Logan asks, her arm tensing up on instinct.

You glance at his face before releasing his hand. "Oh... sorry," you say and shrug sheepishly.

To your surprise, he doesn't scold or chastise you, doesn't get up to leave in a hurry. He simply pulls his hand back and gives you another look before saying good night.

"Get some good sleep. Like I said, I'll show you around tomorrow," he says.

You slip down in the bed, resting your head on the plush pillows and pulling the blanket up over your form. He heads out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

A deep exhale leaves his lungs. He shakes some of that tension loose. What had he been doing? It almost felt like some different person had taken over him in there. Another version of himself that didn't have to be reminded to 'play nice.'

The few weeks you're supposed to stay at the school stretches out into a longer timeframe. It'd now been a few months since that day he found you in the cage and set you free. Though that month or so you'd spent locked up turned out to be worth it because you now had a place that made you happier than anywhere you'd lived before. You had a family.

You had Jean and Storm who were helping you train so you could one day go on missions with them. You had the Professor who taught you more about yourself than you had ever thought to ask. Scott was there too.

And of course, you had Logan.

Logan. As much as he tried to seem reluctant, to appear uncaring and nonchalant, he had grown to enjoy your company more with each passing day that you followed him like a shadow.

It was irritating at first. Before, he'd been able to drift through the school relatively unnoticed. Now, every single place he went, he was trailed by whoosh whoosh whoosh. The sound of your tail going back and forth. Anything he tried to do was accompanied by the feeling of two glimmering eyes trained on him. He'd tried to brush you off, but you didn't waver.

"Don't you have anything better to do than stalk me?" he'd ask, shooting a side eye your way.

"No," you'd respond.

"Well, find something."

"I don't wanna."

And who was he to argue with that?

In a way, the bond you seemed to have formed with him was flattering. It seemed like he could do anything, and you'd never view him as anything but the greatest creation to grace this earth. So he just lets you follow him around. He assumes after a while, you'll see him for what he is and lose interest, or you'll just grow bored of him and find something else to be the object of your obsession. Though so far that day hadn't come.

After a while of you always at his side, he started to cave and include you in his little routines.

One day he was doing sit ups at the foot of his bed while you sat nearby. His body rose and fell, abdomen kissing his thighs in regular intervals. But every time he came up, he found himself looking over at you.

"Hey, pup," he said, the nickname he developed for you coming out effortlessly, "C'mere for a second."

Your ears perked up. You weren't usually involved in what he was doing. You scoot over to him and kneel at his feet, awaiting a command. You could be so obedient sometimes it nearly made him feel guilty.

"You wanna help me with something?" he asked. As he expected, you nodded right away, so he continued, "Just hold my feet down. These only work if your feet stay flat. So just make sure they do."

You gave him another dutiful nod and got in position. Your hands held his feet down as he worked out just like he asked. Each time he came up off the ground, you looked at him with a big goofy smile.

That was just the first thing. From then on, the two of you actually did stuff together rather than just going about your things nearby one another. He'd help you train, and you'd help him clean Scott's bike when he finished using it.

Tonight, exhaustion aches in your bones after running around all day. On top of that, you'd had so much stuff to do yourself that you'd barely even seen Logan all day.

When the sun's finally down and the students have all retired to their bedrooms, you find him in the living room. He's leaned back into the couch, nursing a bottle of something. You assume it's not beer since you're at a school, but with how often he lamented about that limitation, you wouldn't put it past him to sneak one in.

You hop over the arm rest and curl up on the opposite side of the couch from him. He looks over at you, not displeased with your presence.

"There you are. I thought you finally got tired of me and found someone else to bother," he teases.

"I could never do that," you reply with the same playful cadence. You scoot a little closer. "I was just super busy today. The Professor was having me talk to some of the students, and then Scott needed me to grab something for him from the shed. It was really hard to find, so it took a while. Then I had to do my own training, and Jean made me try on some sizes for my suit..."

As you chatter on about your day, Logan finds himself nodding along, even occasionally reacting to what you say. He's not rolling his eyes or telling you to leave him alone. It's weird, but he can't say he wants to feel differently.

"Sounds like they're working you like a dog," he says when your story has reached an end.

Your face darkens like it had on the day he met you, shooting him a quick glare as a reminder not to say the forbidden d-word.

"Right, sorry," he corrects, "It just sounds like they're running you ragged. Don't let 'em work you too hard. Scott can get his own shit."

He still didn't understand your hang up about that word. He could call you pup, puppy, or any variation of that, and you'd react with nothing but joy. But utter d-o-g in your vicinity, and he felt like he was at risk of getting his throat chomped on. Luckily, it only takes his small apology for your normal demeanor to make its return.

"It's ok. I don't mind helping. I like having stuff to do," you say and shrug.

"I thought your 'stuff to do' was watching over me," he jokes and leans forward, placing his bottle down on the table.

You're not sure why, but you take that as an invitation to scoot even closer to him.

"I thought you wanted me to find better stuff to do."

"Fair," he chuckles, "Maybe this is one of those things where I'm not gonna realize I miss something until it's gone."

He brings his hand up from the back of the couch to massage the base of one of your ears. The soft fluff feels almost luxurious against the rough pads of his finger tips. He knew you loved the sensation. It had been an accidental discovery, something he did one time as a joke. But the way you melted into the touch had been more than just funny to him.

You lean into it now and nuzzle his palm.

"It was just one day. It's not like a permanent new routine."

"For now. Then soon enough, I'm gonna catch you trailing somebody else with hearts in your eyes," he says and gently tugs your ear.

You laugh at the tug and the stupid words. "You will not. Plus, I don't have hearts in my eyes for you."

"Oh really?" he teases. He leans in, his face hovering a couple inches away from yours. "I think I can see some now."

The two of you stay locked in a stare for a few lingering seconds. He'd never been this close to you before. You'd never heard his voice lower in that way, sounding almost desiring. Heat starts to crawl up from your belly through your chest to your neck. Before it can reach your cheeks, you turn your head to face the tv.

"Shut up," you huff, choosing to play the interaction off as a joke.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his grin. He chuckles and his arm returns to its place behind you, above your shoulders. Quiet blooms between the two of you, kept from being total silence only by the hushed noises of the tv set across the room. It doesn't feel awkward though even with the sudden shyness he'd brought over you.

You angle yourself and lean in so that you're sitting against his side. No words come from him, he simply lowers his arm to sling around your shoulders and keep you there. His thumb idly pets back and forth over the smooth skin of your forearm.

The heat of his body radiates from his side and into you. Makes you feel safe and comfortable. Like you're where you're supposed to be. It's easy to sink into him further and tilt your head to rest on his chest. Before long, your eyes feel a little droopy. Blinking feels sticky, and your mind just wants to retreat to the soft embrace of sleep.

Logan can tell. He's not sure of the feeling this knowledge brings him. Pride? Contentment? Affection? Instead of thinking about it harder, he just pulls you a little closer and lets you drift off. He considers saying something, letting you know he doesn't mind and that you don't have to try and stay up. But nothing comes from him and the quiet continues.

He watches you slowly slip away. Your neck loses the wherewithal to stay upright, and your breaths soften, blowing in and out in a thoughtless rhythm.

The feeling that flows through him takes him by surprise. Pure endearment towards you, not a hint of anything else. He lets you sleep there for the next hour or so. When you're still out cold after that time has passed, he's unsure of his next move. He doesn't want to wake you and shatter the peace that had settled over the room, but he had to head to bed himself and wasn't going to leave you stranded on the couch in the common room.

The light of the tv glows across the two of you as he mulls over his options. When he finally decides, he grabs the remote and shuts the device off, cloaking the room in darkness, spare the distant blinking lights that could be seen through the windows. He rises from the cushions that had molded to cradle his weight, making sure to keep a hand on you to prevent you from slumping over.

This time he doesn't shake you or offer a hand. He reaches around and tucks an arm under your legs. His other supports you across your shoulder blades as he lifts you into his arms. He traverses the furniture with caution, making sure to avoid bumping into a stray corner or tripping on a catch in the rug. Then he moves up the stairs. Your limp body bounces with each step.

He nudges the door open to your bedroom and takes you inside. Your scent seemed to fill the entire room. Every time he took a breath, he got a lungful of the heady smell. Your bedroom was so you now. The way you'd decorated it and splashed your personality over every inch, it'd be hard to believe that just a few months ago it had been so sparse.

What had been a blank bed, covered only by a plain duvet and thin pillows, now held your extra fluffy cushions, a nest of blankets, and your steadily-growing collection of plushies. Trinkets lined your shelves and tables, and you even displayed a few posters over the walls. It was you, all around him.

He walks the few paces to the edge of the mattress before laying your body down on the foamy surface. He drapes a nearby blanket over your form. Even though he's technically accomplished what he meant to, he doesn't leave yet. He lingers like he can't seem to help doing around you.

You're still fast asleep, unaware of the change in locations. He watches a haphazard swallow move through your throat before you settle into the familiar setting.

He finds himself not wanting to go back to his room. He'd been at the school longer than you and never made his own so nice. Really, he didn't think he could make it as nice. But that was just because nothing about him was as nice as you.

When the resolve to leave finally surfaces in him, he reaches out and rubs the base of your ear.

"See you in the morning," he murmurs. Unlike before, the rest of what he wants to say doesn't get tangled up in his throat. "My little puppy girl."

That night won't leave your head for the next week. It almost feels like a dream. You'd woken up in your bed the next morning, assuming that's what it was. The undeniable change in location was the only thing that made your mind accept it as reality.

In the following days, things stayed the same for the most part, though you would have sworn, Logan acted a little less grumpy around you. Only by a microscopic degree, but enough for you to note the shift.

Nothing that big happens though. You don't even repeat the cuddling incident again. You kind of just assume that it was a one time thing. A nice experience, but not one to be repeated.

The memory of it floats through your mind often though. The pulse of his heart beating against your cheek, how you could hear it in your ear clear as day. Your stomach flutters at the thought of him actively pulling you closer, wanting you that close. You can feel your dedication to Logan blossoming into something more. It was already rooted so deep inside you that you didn't think it was possible, but you could feel it. The branches of reverence spreading in your chest and growing into something closer to adoration.

You could feel it now, sitting next to him on the bench in the school's spacious yard. He'd been tasked with watching some of the students for the afternoon, so of course, you tagged along. Shade speckled his face with alternating blotches of sunlight and gray. The stray beams of light made his eyes glow, and his hair shine all pretty. The sounds of the students practicing their abilities clouds the background of your focus, and they become even more distant when he suddenly turns to you.

"You're staring," he teases with that little smirk of his.

Your eyes flutter at the accusation. "No... I was not."

"Yeah you were. Even worse than usual."

"I just was thinking and zoned out," you defend, turning to face forward.

He hums in acknowledgement, obviously not believing your excuse. "Were you thinking about me?"

"You wish."

"I don't have to wish, puppy. You're not a very good liar."

You really weren't. Your tail swished with each beat of this little back and forth. Your ears pinned back to your head, folded over by the guilt of being caught. Everything you were feeling was made apparent by your supposed 'gifts.'

"Well whatever. Even if I was, it's none of your business," you say. A smile pulls at your lips. Your tells weren't solely from your mutation.

"If you say so," he taunts, one last jab before he returns his attention to the kids he was supposed to be supervising.

Nothing he said hinted at anything more than playful banter, but the way he spoke had them wrapped around your heart like unbreakable restraints. The way he said them made you feel like he wanted it this way. Wanted you to hear that smug cadence in your mind for the next few days. Maybe he found you entertaining. Maybe your emotions were a new game he discovered he liked to play with.

Hours later, you're curled up in your bed, by yourself as per usual. Everyone in the school had gone to bed, you and Logan had parted a while ago yourselves.

Sleep weighs you down to the mattress, but your ears perk up automatically when they register a distant sound of distress. It's faint. If it happened alone, you would've just assumed it was part of your dream and not done anything else. But more follow it.

Your eyes crack open, still glazed with drowsiness as you come to. You listen for the sounds that disturbed you. For a moment, there's nothing. Just the gentle breeze outside your room and the crickets chirping in the cut grass in the yard.

Then it happens again. A normal person wouldn't be able to hear these sounds. They were reserved for you with your enhanced senses. It sounds like grunting and groaning though you can pick up the pained undertone of fear. The worst part of it to you is that immediately you know it's coming from Logan.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, freeing them from the fleece warmth of your blankets. Padding out of the room, you cross the hall to his. You open the door in the specific way so that it doesn't creak and then shut it behind you. Your feet are gentle on the hardwood as they bring you closer to the source of the noise.

Once you're in, it's no mystery. Logan lays on his back in the center of his bed, shoulders twitching in agitation. He mumbles to himself, different words you can't make out. Your head cocks at the sight.

Approaching the side of his bed, you just watch him for a few more moments. When he doesn't wake up, you feel the urge to intervene. It felt wrong watching him suffer. Something pulled at your insides to help him.

You reach out and nudge his bicep. There's no effect. You do it a few more times but still nothing happens. Finally, you actually grip his shoulder and shake him gently, whispering into the darkness a simple "Logan."

That wakes him. No mistake about it. He gasps and snaps up. His claws come out from his hands without a second thought and slash at you. You hop back right away, tripping over your own feet and crashing onto the ground.

Your pulse thunders in your ears. The adrenaline coursing through you wasn't so much out of fear but rather confusion. Your mind was still a bit bogged by sleep itself, and at this moment, you're less concerned with Logan's reasoning and more so the logistics of a potential fight with him. Even though you had been training for the past several months, you had absolutely zero belief that you'd be able to beat him in a fight. Or even really compete for that matter.

Fortunately for you, it doesn't come to that. His eyes recognize you not long after his fists took the swing. You watch as his face morphs into a handful of different emotions in the span of about five seconds.

"I- what- how- I didn't-" he starts before getting a handle on his ability to speak, "I'm sorry."

Your body starts to come down from the brief high when it's clear he's not going to attack. You feel less wound up and let out a sigh. Your eyes remain inquisitive while gazing at him though. What did he dream about that made him freak out like that?

You guess it's not the best time to ask, so instead of pushing your luck, you push up off the ground and get your footing back. You step up to him at the edge of the bed and stand between his thighs. You plan on asking him if he's ok, but his arms reach out and yank you to his chest before you have the chance.

His hold is tight on you. The little half-hugs he'd given you a couple times before didn't compare at all. His arms were locked around you like they never intended to let go. You could hear him panting in your ear, and you could feel his heart thundering against both of your rib cages like it wanted to be released from its chamber.

"You're not hurt, are you?" he whispers.

You shake your head and wrap your arms around him too. The gesture relaxes him a lot, you can feel the tension seep away.

"Are you ok? I didn't mean to bother you, you just sounded like you needed help," you say at the same volume.

"You didn't bother me. I'm ok. I'm sorry. You don't have to worry about me like that."

His skin is warm and clammy against your own. You gently pat his back as some form of silent reassurance. Even if he wasn't as distraught as he had been a few minutes ago, you could tell the events that occurred were gnawing at him.

One of your hands drifts up, and you thread your fingers in his hair. It's like pulling a lever. He exhales deeply and pushes his face more against your neck.

"I'm sorry, pup," he murmurs.

You nuzzle the side of his head, and your heart nearly stops because he reciprocates this gesture with a few of the softest kisses you've ever felt, placed on your throat.

"I'd never hurt you on purpose. You know that."

You nod. Of course you knew that. And you would never say this to him out loud, but you felt so deeply for him, you weren't sure that your perception of him would have changed had his claws landed the strike on you.

Pulling back your head a little, you nudge his so you can see him. Both of your eyes connect for a moment before you lean in and kiss him. His lips are softer than you'd expected. His scent permeates your senses, but it's not one of booze or the brand of cigars he smokes. That's there, but your nostrils sense deeper. You could smell his essence. The way his blood runs hot as your tongue swipes into his mouth.

The kiss grows deeper. No words are said. Neither of you need them. Your fingers tighten on the dark locks of brown hair, and you climb into his lap. His hands land on your hips almost instantaneously. The only sounds between the two of you are sharp exhales and shallow inhales.

"What are you doing, bub?" he murmurs against your lips, breaking the silence. Despite his questions, he wasn't stopping you. Not at all. His fingers dig into your flesh and pull you a little closer.

"Wanna make you feel better. And show you that I know."

You weren't sure what you and Logan were after that night. Boyfriend-girlfriend, friends with benefits, or maybe simple companions. You didn't really care because regardless of the answer, you were happy.

Kissing was the only thing that transpired that night, but that was ok with you. It didn't dampen your outlook on your relationship with him in the slightest. You'd made out for a while, tangling up with each other and the sheets before he pulled back. He didn't want to go further when you both were coming down from all that emotion. And you agreed. You didn't need more. You felt elated from receiving that much affection in the first place. Your tail whacked against the mattress as you curled up to his side and put your head on his sternum to rest.

The next morning though, he had been ready for more. Once he fell back asleep, his dreams had been much more pleasant. He woke up stiff and aching for you, and you were more than happy to provide some relief.

You alleviated that throbbing between his legs multiple times that morning, and you'd been taking care of it at least once a day every day since then.

The team could tell something was going on between the two of you, a deeper bond than your initial affinity for Logan. You walked with a faster wag in your tail, and he seemed less jagged at the edges. Others were less likely to get cut now if they reached for him the wrong way.

Each of your steps also came with a small jingle now since Logan had given you his dog tags. You'd been lying against his side, basking in the afterglow of one of your escapades when he dangled the metal chain between the two of you.

"Want you to have these, pup," he rasped.

You'd looked at him with curiosity swimming in your eyes. Excitement mingled there too though.

He chuckled at the look before boosting your head so he could put them on you.

"I know my pretty puppy doesn't want to wear a collar for me yet," he teased, getting a pout out of you, "I just want you to have something of mine. You don't even have to wear 'em if you don't want to."

You'd worn them every moment since he gave them to you. Wouldn't take them off for anything. The physical representation of your attachment stayed secured around your neck at all times. The way it made you feel had you thinking a collar would be a pretty nice next step.

It'd been just over a month since you became something more with him. Your tail zips back and forth as you clean up the training room, thinking all of this over. A little smile rests on your features too. Jean helps out nearby, laughing gently at your mood.

"You have it bad," she teases.

Your head turns, and you grin, exposing those elongated canines. Shrugging, you prance over to help her finish the area she was tidying up.

When the two of you get everything back into shape, you head out into the sleek hallway back towards the main part of the mansion. Your shoes squeak against the tile as you bound towards the doors.

Entering the primary floor from the rooms below always brought a bit of adjustment for your eyes. The lights downstairs shone bright, fluorescent white. Coming back to the soft lamps of the common rooms had you blinking while your pupils scanned the room for Logan.

You catch sight of him standing near the two large doors that acted as entrance to the school. Right now, you can only see him from behind, but you spot Charles next to him. It looks like they're talking to someone, though the former's bulky frame prevents you from seeing who.

Your legs carry you over to the pair. You come up on the side of Logan that Charles doesn't occupy. Tucking yourself under his arm, you look up at him first before your eyes land on the other person speaking.

The sight of her makes your head tilt to the side just the slightest. Every feature on her embodies beauty. Her red hair, similar to Jean's in color, sits slicked back on her head. Deep blue coats every inch of her body. Seductive yellow eyes flit between the two men she's conversing with, and now that you had appeared, they cast to you as well.

You'd seen her before around the mansion once or twice, and you didn't really trust her. She didn't seem like a bad person, but she worked opposite the team. Even though Logan had assured you she was just offering some information about a common goal, you didn't feel confident that Mystique's motives were of such pure intent.

Still, you don't interrupt the in-progress discussion. You stay quietly pressed to Logan's side, tail coasting against the back of his leg. He doesn't wrap his arm around you as tight as normal or rub between your ears like he often did, but he gives you a little pat on the shoulder to acknowledge your presence.

Mystique finishes listening to Charles' point before directing her full attention to you.

"I knew you all wore uniforms, but you two didn't tell me your team had a little mascot too."

You bristle at the comment but try to remain composed. You were better than a thoughtless animal that snapped at a little poke. Charles hadn't even noticed your presence. He looks over at you and realizes what Mystique's quip referred to. He introduces you briefly.

"She's new to the team and is still training, but she's not a mascot," he concludes.

"So more like a stray then? Cute. I never would have guessed you wanted a pet," she says to Logan.

Tension creeps up your spine, and you stand up straight, pulling away from Logan's side.

"I'm not his pet," you huff and look at her. Your pouty way of asserting yourself probably didn't do much to project the image of independence you wanted. "I'm-"

You go to continue, but she cuts you off.

"You really should teach your dog not to bark, Logan. It's not polite."

That sparks a small growl in your throat before you can shut it down. Her eyes widen in amusement which only makes it feel worse for you. The most humiliating part is that you know all of this is inauthentic. She's doing it for the purpose of riling you up, getting you upset and making you feel bad. You know this, but your reaction gets the better of you.

Before you can do anything regrettable, Logan's hand curls over your shoulder. He keeps you rooted where you stand, quelling the flames of conflict before they have a chance to spread.

"Back off," he says, quick and curt with Mystique. He turns to Charles next, still keeping his voice firm. "You don't need me to hear the rest of this. I think I'll let you wrap it up."

Charles nods, knowing it would be better for him to focus on removing you from the potentially volatile situation instead of being another observer for some intel.

Logan guides you away from them, hand moving from your shoulder to the back of your neck as he takes you upstairs. The anger inside you melts away with the growing distance between you and Mystique. Only the stain of embarrassment remained.

"I'm sorry," you say. Your words sound compressed, the weight of your shame hanging off them.

"Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong. She wanted you to get upset, so that's what she got."

The pair of you move through the rest of the hall without another word. You go into your room. Once the door is shut and it's just the two of you between the four walls, you stomp over to the bed and flop down onto the mattress.

Darkness clouds your vision while your face rests against the blankets. Your tail rests against your thigh limply. You hear him coming over and then feel his hand rubbing your leg near the lifeless appendage. The mattress dips as he sits next to you.

"C'mon. You're ok."

You shuffle around so your head is resting in his lap. "I looked pathetic."

He sighs. One of his hands rubs your back while the other pets your head. "You did not."

"Yeah I did."

"No. You didn't," he says, "You didn't do anything that bad. No one's gonna think less of you cause you got a little mad about someone talking shit to you."

You know he's right. Everyone here had an experience like that. It's how most of them ended up here, reacting even worse than you had. It still doesn't make you feel any less dumb. A deep exhale seeps from your lungs.

"I just don't understand why everyone looks at me like that. We all get it bad enough from humans, but then some of the others look down on me too. I'm the same as all of you. I don't say Mystique looks like a smurf cause she's blue, so I don't see why I have to get called a pet," you huff.

He smiles a little and scratches your ear, letting you vent.

"Even you guys looked at me different at first. I know you did. I'm not the only mutant with physical stuff. Why does it have to be a whole thing with me?"

"You're just a little different, bub. You confuse people, but it's not your fault. Nothing about you is less than any other mutant. Mystique doesn't even think that. She was trying to get under your skin."

"Yeah..." you say with a little dejection in your tone, "I still just wish people would treat me like normal. Or at least normal for a mutant."

"I know you do, baby," he hums and pats your arm.

By this point, you're far enough away from the harshness of what happened downstairs. You sit up and scoot closer to him crawling into his lap. He wraps his thick arms around you and rubs your back.

"There's my girl," he murmurs and pecks your temple.

You nuzzle him like a puppy seeking more affection from its owner. Your backside rests on his lap, your arms snug around his abdomen.

"I'm just curious though, pup. What's the big thing with being called dog? It's not that different than puppy," he says, a hint of caution in his voice. He figured now was as good a time as any to ask. He knew it was the main part of what Mystique said that set you off.

You don't react with anger or defensiveness which pleases him. Instead, you shrug.

"Cause. Puppy sounds cute. Dog is just so... bleh," you say, "It makes me sound like a gross animal that someone has to wrangle."

His eyebrow rises. You can see the amusement in his eyes, but he successfully kills his laugh before it leaves his throat.

"Mmm. Makes sense. Can't have anyone thinking you're gross."

"Exactly," you say and kiss his cheek, "You get it. I just... I don't wanna be your pet, I wanna be yours."

You breathe out the words and push yourself closer on his lap. He appeases your desire for less space and pulls you to his chest.

"You are mine. You don't have to worry about that," he says.

"And I still wanna be your little puppy."

He chuckles. His head ducks down to your neck to lay a few kisses there. One of his palms drifts down to gently knead the dough of your ass.

"You also are my little puppy. My little puppy that follows me everywhere. Mine to hold and love on. Mine to play with. Mine to deal with when she gets bratty."

The last word comes out teasing and brings a happy sound out of you. "I wasn't being bratty before. She started it," you say, playing along.

"Hmmm, you're right. Maybe fussy's a better word," he mutters and nips at the soft flesh of your neck.

"Nuh uh. I was being totally normal," you say and nudge at his face with your nose, getting a little squirmy on his lap.

He responds by flipping you over onto your back. The mattress creaks with the bout of pressure and a squeal leaves your throat. You can feel his length against your hip, half-hard already from how you had wiggled on his lap.

"Oh please," he says, "Why do you think I brought you up here? I can tell when my pup needs to calm down. And I know just how to do that, don't I?"

You whimper and nod. He grins before returning his lips to your neck. He nips a few love bites onto the delicate area, drawing little whines from you. His hands hold you in place and move with your body's wriggling. He gropes at your hips and waist, paws at your tits, and slides them around to massage your ass.

"Such a good girl. So responsive for me," he coos.

The condescending affection sends a pulse down to your clit, and your hips roll up to meet his. One of your legs hooks around his waist to pull his body closer.

"Logan. Don't tease," you pout.

Your whiny plea doesn't garner any sympathy from him though. He laughs against your neck and pulls back to smirk down at you.

"My little puppy needs to learn some patience. You think if you don't get my dick in seconds that it's teasing," he taunts.

You whine again and press your leg down on him. He doesn't make any move to pull his cock out though. One set of his fingers comes up to your jaw, directing your lips to an angle where his can land on yours. He kisses you nice and deep, swallowing up any bratty urges that were springing around inside your head. His tongue is warm and soft, gentle against yours.

Meanwhile, his freehand does start to slide down below. It travels beneath the waistband of your bottoms. His warm fingers glide over the plush skin of your pelvis and slot between your lower lips to find your swollen nub. He flicks at it, instantly getting a mewl from you.

You can feel his smug smile against your mouth, but you don't have much time to react to it before his middle finger starts swirling around your bud. Your leg releases his body as it squirms with your other on the mattress. You moan into his mouth and boost your hips into his touch, wanting more of that blissful friction.

"Sweet girl," he coos. The words are muffled by your skin, but you could pick those syllables out of any lineup. "That's your favorite spot, isn't it? Always gets you wriggling for me like a little puppy."

"Mhm," you whimper with a faint nod.

Your heels dig into the mattress to give you some leverage to push your hips up so he can tug your pants off. He takes the opportunity and flings them off the bed. With you bare to him like that, he leaves your lips and moves down. He pulls your top off next and smooches between your breasts and over your tummy before landing between your legs.

He kneels on the floor at the edge of the mattress. His hands hook around your thighs and pull you in his direction.

"C'mere, baby. Give me that puppy cunt. Gotta get it all wet, so it can take my cock."

With that, he buries his head between your thighs. You gasp and throw your head back. Your hands fly to his head to grab at the two dark points of hair.

Logan gives his all to the task of pleasuring you. Whether it was his cock or his mouth, you were never getting anything less than his best. That's obvious right now as he eats you out like it's all he has to live for. He laps at your poor little clit before sucking it into his mouth. It gets some good suction from his lips before he pulls away and licks a broad stripe over your cunt.

He prods his tongue at your entrance, pushing the soft appendage against your hole. You whine more, and he feels your heels dig into his back as they had the mattress. Little expletives float from your mouth into the air as you experience such a rush of euphoria.

"Taste so good, pup. So fuckin' sweet," he mumbles. His lips open and close over your pussy, making out with it.

You rock your hips back and forth, essentially humping his face. He groans and only works harder. Your cute reactions only spurred him on. He twists his tongue just how he'd learned you liked and uses the perfect amount of pressure to get you gushing for him. Your arousal begins to coat his chin, his dark facial hair glistening with your wetness.

"Nice and wet. I'm just gonna slide right in, huh baby?"

"Yeah," you pant. Your hips buck when his nose bumps your clit, but he keeps you held in place.

He kisses your clit before dragging his tongue over you anymore. The soft touch pulls a whimper from you. Your brain starts to get all muddled and hazy. The dreamy feeling always took over when he had you like this. He knows it's coming on too. He can tell by the sudden softening of your movements. You're less jerky and more fluid in how you fidget.

"Oh, that's it. I think my pretty puppy's ready for me," he says, voice smooth on your ears.

He wags his tongue over your little bundle of nerves a few more times before standing to undress himself. His shirt comes off first, dropped to the floor with your garments. His pants are next to go, crumpled on the ground and kicked off his ankles.

Crawling back on top of you, his larger figure boxes you in on the soft surface. His cock is fully hard by now, red and angry, leaking desire from the tip. He guides it to your center and rubs it through your soaked folds.

A soft grunt leaves him as your nectar coats his shaft and drips onto his balls a little too. He only slides it against you a couple times, not wanting to waste the stimulation humping when he could be nestled deep inside.

He brings his tip down to your hold and pushes it in. Your walls accept the familiar intrusion and he groans at the comfort of your velvet walls contracting around him. He pushes his length in all the way until he bottoms out.

Then, adjusting himself and gripping at your hips, he starts to thrust. The motions start as gentle rocks. Taps of his pelvis against your ass. You flutter around him. Moans leak from you, and he smiles at the obvious pleasure coursing through your body.

He fucks you deep, just how you always asked for it. You weren't concerned with whining for harder and deeper right now. This was enough. The feeling of his cock buried in you soothed you like nothing else. Your eyes roll back and puffs of air come from your nostrils.

"Fuck, honey. Feels like I can barely last with you," he grumbles.

"Can't even think when I'm with you," you babble.

Your arms come up to pull him closer, and he lets you. He presses his body into yours, in-turn, shoving his cock as far into you as physically possible. You cry out with the pressure. It was the best kind. Deep and satisfying. To the point that you can feel it in your tummy every time his belly pushes on yours.

"You may not be my dog, baby, but one day you're gonna be my perfect breeding bitch," he grunts.

Your jaw goes slack, eyes drooping with lust. Your head tilts back and he leans into yours more.

"Gonna have you full of me forever. Always gonna be mine."

You can't even respond. Your mind isn't coming up with any coherent response. All you can do is whimper and whine like the needy pup that you are.

"This is what you need sometimes, puppy. Need me to stretch you out on my cock. Get all those thoughts out of your head. Cause puppies don't have to think. Not when you have someone like me taking care of you."

Your thighs start quivering, a sign you were reaching your peak. He knows this and drills into you harder. His balls slap against you every time he pistons his hips. His heated skin rubs against yours. He occupies all your senses, overloading you with him.

"Logan... gotta... gonna cum," you whine.

"Then cum for me," he mumbles simply, "Cum all over my cock, and I'll be right behind you."

You nod. Your back arches up. It takes you a little more, but when you get there, you crash into the throes of release. A sharp yelp bursts from you. Your feet kick a little and your legs press against his sides in an attempt to shut him out.

You get so fucking tight when you cum. Your hole clenches around him, calling out to him to spill every drop of his seed inside your wanting orifice. He growls and drops his head in your neck. He feels it building between his hips. The pressure grows until he can't take it anymore. It snaps and the flood gates open.

He bites at your neck, not hard enough to break the skin but with enough need to leave a little mark. Hot, sticky cum shoots out of him in thick ropes. Warmth fills your insides and you feel like you're sinking into the mattress below you. Both of you are panting with the intensity of the high.

You've already come down by the time he's starting to. After he nuts, Logan tends to get a little sappy. His arms pull you in tighter and he pecks at your neck a few times more muttering something unintelligible about his baby puppy.

"So what do you think?" you ask and twirl into the room, showing off your new outfit.

It matched his. Black leather snug on your body, lined with the same gold on the seams of Logan's. The bold X that shown on his belt could be found on the zipper of your top, dangling against your chest.

He smiles at you, standing from the bed to walk over and get a better view.

"Looks pretty good," he says upon approaching, "Seems a little tight though. You got room for your tail in that thing?"

You laugh at his joke and spin around again, showing the back where the suit had accommodated for your tail to poke through. It whips back and forth before you turn to him again.

"Just perfect for you then," he says and pulls you close, patting your ass and kissing your forehead, "Look at you. An official member of the team."

You nod and struggle not to bounce all around the room with the excitement vibrating through your cells.

"We're gonna be like so totally cool together," you say.

"Yeah. Totally," he imitates affectionately. He cups your jaw, watching your cheeks squish in and your lips puff out. Leaning down, he puts his mouth on yours in a soft kiss. "You're gonna do great."

The words come out as a whisper against your lips. One of your canines slips over your bottom lip as you take it between your teeth. But the display of timidity only lasts a second.

"I know," you beam.

Locking your fingers around his palm, you drag him to the door and out into the hall. Your arm makes his swing as he walks along behind you. He rolls his eyes lovingly at your confident display, but he can't keep his gaze off your happy self. He lets you pull him without resistance.

Now it would be his turn to follow you.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fluff #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine fluff #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #marvel x reader #marvel smut

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5sospenguinqueen · 3 months ago

Text

Take A Break - Toto Wolff x Wife! Reader

Summary: Toto has been pushing himself too hard trying to get the upgrades sorted. As his concerned wife, you plan a surprise visit.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff. Bad writing

Requested: Yes by Anon (Hope I did this justice)

2024 season. There's a little blurb halfway through as well.

F1 Masterlist

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by ynwolff_official, lewishamilton and others

mercedesamgf1 boss man hard at work

1,198 comments

ynwolff_official you better be looking after him

→ mercedesamgf1 yes, ma’am. we’re doing our best

→ ynwolff_official tell him if he doesn’t stop working late, he’ll be in trouble when he comes home

→ mercedesamgf1 stop making the admin team threaten me, schatz. they keep coming into my office shaking and you’ll get me into trouble with hr - toto

user1 tell him to make an insta

georgerussell63 he looks like a sith lord

→ ynwolff_official i think you mean, very handsome

→ georgerussell63 i’m not going to say that about my boss

→ alex_albon why not? you were telling me the other day that you think he looks much better in the white shirt than the black zip up

user2 anyone else think he looks tired lately?

→ user2 he’s been working extra hard to get the upgrades ready, i’m guessing

→ user3 plus wifey and jack haven’t been able to make a race in a while so he’s probably missing them after that triple header

user4 george won’t be getting those upgrades once yn tells toto that he wouldn’t admit he was handsome

→ mickschumacher i’ve already told

→ georgerussell63 betrayal

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Strolling through the Hungaroring paddock, you kept a tight hold of your son’s hand. Bustling bodies brushed past, paying the the pair of you no heed, which worked well with your surprise.

Over the past few weeks, Toto had been working tirelessly to ensure the upgrades were ready and working in time for the Hungarian Grand Prix, albeit to the detriment of his own health. He’d been sleeping less, running himself ragged to ensure Mercedes didn’t remain fourth in the constructors. After winning at Red Bull Ring and Silverstone, he knew the potential was there. All he had to do was unlock it. But that had meant shorter calls with his wife and son, fewer responses to messages and a growing distance that he hated feeling during the season. And so, arranging a surprise visit during race weekend had been the most obvious solution.

Mercedes hat sat atop his dark hair, Jack babbled about everything he could see as the tall form of George Russell guided you towards the garage.

“Hello, stranger.” Lewis’ voice met your ears when he caught sight of you. “Toto didn’t tell me you were coming. What’s up, little man?”

George vanished into the back of the garage, searching for the Team Principal. Leaning over to the Brit, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the 7x WDC. Lewis gave your shoulders a squeeze before pulling Jack up into his arms, whisking him over to where the W15 was being polished.

“George, this better be important. I was in the middle of an analysis report-.” A disgruntled Austrian accent filled the garage, bringing a smile to your face. You could picture the deep frown twisting his handsome’s features without even turning to see it.

“Liebe?”

The silver arrows watched the tension seep out of their Team Principal’s face as he took in the appearance of his wife. Striding across the garage floor, he pulled you in for a tight hug, and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of your head. Aware of the eyes on you both, he had to refrain from pressing his lips to yours. Denying you both the deep kiss you truly desired.

“Surprise,” you whispered, slipping your arm around his waist. Your hand automatically rubbing soothing circles against his hip.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmured into your hair, inhaling the familiar scent of home.

“You sounded like you needed us.”

“I always need you.”

“Well, then, let’s go rescue your son from Lewis.”

Holed up in Toto’s office, the Wolff family basked in their first moment of family time since over a month. Toto had ordered everyone to leave them alone until qualifying was due to start or somebody was dying. Thankfully, the team listened and so he spent the past hour listening to his son tell him about school and watching Lewis win a race on telly.

Fussing over the amount of coffee cups in the waste bin, you turned to lecture your husband on his inability to get enough rest but paused, mouth open. Curled up on the deep couch pushed against the wall, Jack was snuggled into his father’s lap. His iPad had fallen to the side, and soft snores escaped from his mouth. Glasses askew, Toto’s chin rested on his son’s head, eyes closed tight. Father and son, exhausted from the excitement of their day.

Taking a quick picture on your phone, you smiled at the sight of your family. Reaching into Jack’s backpack, you pulled out his blanket, draping it over your favourite boys.

“Ich liebe dich,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads.

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by georgerussell63, mickschumacher and others

mercedesamgf1 our favourite family 🐺

1,554 comments

georgerussell63 admin, you used the same quote for a photo of toto with me, lew and mick the other week?

→ mercedesamgf1 we were paid to do that

→ alex_albon great now he’s crying

→ landonorris ha! at least our admin love us more than zak

→ mclaren don’t tell on us!

mercedesamgf1 inside scoop; toto asked us to print out the photo of yn and jack to put in his office

mickschumacher does this mean i can take the little wolff karting?

→ ynwolff_official only if you promise to come for dinner

→ georgerussell63 and me?

→ user5 poor toto can’t escape his drivers even during his time off because his wife adopted them all

lewishamilton nice to see you and jack in the paddock again, yn

→ ynwolff_official and you, lew. hopefully we can attend a few more now that the summer holidays are here

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ynwolff_official just posted

liked by valterribottas, mercedesamgf1 and others

ynwolff_official my favourite part of summer break is the view

1,003 comments

mercedesamgf1 tell boss man to bring that smile back with him

→ ynwolff_official don’t worry. i’ll be sending him back to work extra happy

→ lewishamilton yn, love, this sounds less than family friendly

→ ynwolff_official oops

user6 oh she’s FEEDING us

user7 has george joined you for a sleepover yet

→ ynwolff_official of course. he’s like the son i didn’t ask for

→ georgerussell63 but you love anyway?

→ user8 silence speaks volumes

user9 yn wolff thirst trapping her husband was not on my 2024 bingo

→ user10 silly season is extra silly this year so yn obvi thought she would participate

→ user11 and we love her for it

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Requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

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saintobio · 6 months ago

Text

blank canvas. (3)

in an attempt to rekindle an already fractured relationship, you open your eyes to the harsh reality that some things, once broken, can no longer be repaired.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. strong language, degradation, explicit smut, toxic relationship

notes. 8.3k wc. here’s the last part !! although there will still be an epilogue, which will be posted a few days from now (let’s not jinx it lol). but thank you for supporting this three-part fic :’) feedback and reblogs are most appreciated!

part 2 | epilogue

He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.

Sighing, you stood behind the counter of your floral shop, absentmindedly picking on the rose petals like an infatuated teenager. It was almost ridiculous what you were doing out of boredom. And although the sweet scent of the flowers surrounding you were supposed to feel calming, it did little to lift the terrible weight on your chest.

Two weeks had passed since you had given your virginity to Satoru. Two weeks since you tried to move on from Sukuna.

Others might say you were too irrational with it. Others might say you did the right thing. But honestly, what was so good about having sex with a guy you barely knew when you spent years refusing to do it with your actual boyfriend?

Yes, you were definitely, undeniably irrational with it. You realized it all too late after you had already given your virginity to another guy. You weren’t even sure what compelled you to ask Satoru to do it with you, but at the time, it felt right. It felt reasonable that you were trying to get over an ex-boyfriend, out of spite, for not setting boundaries with other women while you were still together. You thought it would be fair to play a similar part in this tragic tale, that it wouldn’t be too bad not to set boundaries with other men who showed attraction to you, too.

After all, Sukuna had countless women constantly latching onto him, while Satoru was the first guy within your past relationship who developed an interest in you.

Besides, it wasn’t some kind of fairytale scene when you two slept together. Because to Satoru, it was nothing but a casual encounter. He did his best to make sure that you enjoyed it from finish to end, and you appreciated his sincerity in guiding you throughout, yet you couldn’t deny to yourself that all you had been thinking of at the time was Sukuna. You contrasted everything Satoru did with Sukuna—like how Satoru was slow and sensual, while Sukuna was rough and vulgar. Satoru enjoyed cuddling afterward, whereas Sukuna would likely go straight to sleep. Satoru was too clingy and playful, while Sukuna was more reserved and mature.

The worst part was, your heart still preferred one over the other. And it wasn’t the guy with the white hair and blue eyes.

Satoru was a good guy, and he had genuine intentions, but after being intimate with someone you weren’t in love with, you understood that your potential relationship would never be as good as your previous one. You longed for a man like Sukuna, because despite his typical bad boy persona, he was anything but boring. Being with him was a thrill, and no matter how toxic it was, you were addicted to him.

And that’s wrong. Your lips curled into a frown.

You glanced out the window for what felt like the hundredth time that day, your eyes drawn across the street to Sukuna’s tattoo shop. The neon sign that once buzzed with life now hung dark and lifeless. Every now and then, you could see some of his old clients passing by the shop, hoping for a chance that their favorite tattoo artist was back in business. But Sukuna still hadn’t reopened the shop in days, for almost a month now as a matter of fact, and his absence filled you with a gnawing sense of worry and longing.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, while that was certainly true, it also drove you crazy. Why hasn’t he opened his shop? you wondered, biting your lip. Did he move out? Did he forget about me entirely?

You turned back to your flowers, but your hands stilled as your thoughts consumed you. What would Sukuna think if he knew someone else had taken your virginity? The thought made your stomach twist. You could already hear his voice telling you that you had given yourself to someone else out of desperation, but it clearly didn’t work. If anything, it only made you miss him even more.

Your fingers traced the petals of a rose as memories flooded your mind. The way Sukuna used to look at you, his intense eyes softening just for you. The way his laugh would rumble through his chest when you said something funny. You missed him. You missed everything about him, even the way he could infuriate you with his arrogance.

A sigh escaped your lips as you placed the finished bouquet in a vase. The floral shop was quiet today, save for the distant hum of traffic outside. The city would be busy again during rush hour, but for now, you leaned against the counter, your gaze drifting back to the tattoo shop across. He’s probably with his ex, you thought, feeling a lump form in your throat. Yet you couldn’t help but wonder if he still thought about you. Did he miss me too? Or had he moved on completely?

You pressed your hand to your heart. You wanted to be with him. You wanted to tell him how much you missed him, how much you regretted trying to move on so quickly, how much you wished you didn’t break up with him. You had no backbone when it came to Sukuna. But the fear of rejection, the fear that he no longer cared, kept you rooted in place.

Pushing yourself off the counter, you walked to the front door and flipped the sign to “Closed.” It was best to close off early today. You needed a moment to yourself, a moment to clear your head in the safety of your bedroom. But as you locked the door, you couldn’t stop yourself from stealing one last glance at Sukuna’s shop. The light flickered at first, making you wonder whether you had just imagined it, but then your heart skipped a beat when you saw the lights completely turning on inside.

Your pulse quickened, and you found yourself drawn to the sight. If it was him in there, maybe this was your chance to talk and clear the air. Or maybe, it wouldn’t be wrong to simply check on him since he had been away for almost a month. What if something terrible had happened to him during those past weeks? What if he had gotten sick? With hesitant steps, you eventually crossed the street and approached his shop. There, you could see him through the window as you got closer, shirtless and his rib wrapped in a bandage, clearly covering a fresh new tattoo. In seeing your presence, he looked up, but his eyes passed over you as if you weren’t even there.

You knocked lightly on the glass door, and he glanced up again, but his expression remained indifferent, like he was trying to suppress his emotions. He didn’t move to open the door as you expected. In fact, he seemed to be arguing with himself in his head.

“Hey,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “Can we talk?”

Sukuna didn’t respond right away when he wiped his hands on a rag, still not meeting your eyes. Your heart ached from the heavy silence, but before you could say anything more, the sound of a car engine broke the stillness of that scene.

An expensive McLaren car pulled up to the curb, and you were quick to recognize its owner.

It was Satoru rolling down his window, a bright smile on his face as he looked at you. His beam was almost blinding, distracting you from the presently awkward situation you had placed yourself in.

“Y/N,” he greeted cheerfully, completely oblivious to the tension. “Did you miss me?”

Oh, Jesus.

The words hung in the air like a bomb, and you felt the color drain from your face as you thought of how dangerous this situation would be for you. When you saw Sukuna’s eyes flicker with interest, his posture stiffened as he finally paid attention, and you realized it was too late. Way too late.

“Is that guy bothering you?” Sukuna finally asked, his voice unusually calm as he approached the door. The closer the proximity, the more your heart started to race. It was running at 250 km/h like it was on track.

Satoru’s smile then faltered, now sensing the shift in the atmosphere. It was his first time meeting Sukuna, and based on the stories you had shared with him and Suguru, he was smart enough to recognize that the tattooed man was your ex.

“I got what you asked for.” Satoru ignored Sukuna and looked back at you, holding up a small bag. “Birth control, right?”

Never in your life did you want to disappear like a puff of smoke. The sudden turn of events was so wild and unexpected. You could see that Satoru was enjoying provoking your ex-boyfriend, but the whole exchange was making you feel nauseous. The tension was so overwhelming that you couldn’t speak, or move, or do anything at all. You were simply frozen.

It was also at that time when Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his gaze moving between you and Satoru. The pieces began to click into place, and a dark realization settled over his features. “You slept with him?” he asked, his voice low and accusatory.

“Sukuna, I…” Your breath caught in your throat because you couldn’t find the damn words to respond. Should you deny it? Should you say it wasn’t anything like that? There was no way you could get out of this situation even if you wanted to.

But Satoru stepped out of his car in your defense. “It’s none of your business what she does—”

“Shut up, you douchebag,” Sukuna snapped, his glare turning deadly. He looked at you with sharp eyes, ones filled with a mixture of hurt and fury. With the way he was glaring, you knew he was murdering you in his head. “So this is how you move on?”

Your eyes stung from the incoming tears. You wanted to explain, to tell him that you only did it out of spite, but the words just wouldn’t come. You knew it was still wrong and that it would be a huge slap to his face hearing that you had hooked up with someone else before him. You hadn’t even confirmed anything, yet the intensity of Sukuna’s gaze already made you feel like you were suffocating.

As the two men stood there, locked in a silent standoff, you recognized it as the loudest silence you had experienced in your life. That was, until Satoru broke that silence by reaching for your hand. “Let’s go,” he said gently, guiding you towards his car.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes lingering on Sukuna, but the look of betrayal on his face was too much to bear. It was either you turn away and leave him behind or you stay there and explain to him.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the courage to do the latter.

— —

The roar of Sukuna’s bike echoed through the night, slicing through the darkness as he raced down the highway like a motorcycle racer on a professional track. His mind was a whirl of thoughts, jealousy and rage fueling his every movement. With every thought of you, his knuckles felt cold.

Look, he wasn’t planning to pursue you after you left with that guy, but his ego just wouldn’t allow it. After piecing the situation together, something inside him just snapped. Like a timebomb. A very dangerous one. He couldn’t control his emotions, and he couldn’t just let you go like that. Damn it. Almost two years of forcing him into celibacy, and you suddenly threw yourself at a guy you just met?

He revved his motorbike, scoffing bitterly behind his helmet. He was riding recklessly, without a care to the other vehicles he almost crashed into. Fuck. He had spent nearly a month sulking over your pathetic breakup, he had tried his hardest to avoid you, when all this time, you were out there offering your virginity to some random trust fund-looking guy. How ridiculous was that? How utterly, goddamn ridiculous was it? Maybe you had just revealed your true colors right there. You had always felt uncertain about Sukuna because he had nothing but a tattoo shop and a decent motorbike. Now, you’ve met the picture-perfect guy your parents always wanted for you, so you found it easy to spread your legs open and allow some other guy’s dick inside.

You were worse than a whore.

The wind whipped against his bare chest, but he paid no mind to the cold. He didn’t care anymore. Even if the police were to chase after him, he didn’t fucking care. His focus was on the red taillights of your new guy’s McLaren car ahead of him. Sukuna pushed the throttle, his bike accelerating with a ferocious growl, causing a scene along the highway.

He mapped the situation in his head. Who was faster in this highway chase; the McLaren or his bike? While the McLaren 720 had a higher top speed, Sukuna’s Yamaha YZF-R1 was highly agile and could be more maneuverable in tight spaces. In a straight-line chase, the McLaren would eventually outpace his bike, but in scenarios involving a lot of maneuvering, he could have an advantage.

Too bad for you and your new guy though, since this highway was Sukuna’s domain. His superbike had already passed through the tightest of spaces in the midst of traffic during rush hour, so he was a clear winner here.

And in saying that, the distance between you closed rapidly, and soon he was right behind the car, the bike’s engine roaring like a beast unleashed. With a piercing screech of tires, Sukuna maneuvered his bike alongside Satoru’s car, forcing him to pull over by kicking the driver’s side door. The car drifted and screeched to a halt on the shoulder of the highway, and Sukuna followed suit, cutting the engine and dismounting in one fluid motion. His precious bike, now discarded on the floor, all for the sake of confronting the woman he thought had loved him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Satoru demanded, stepping out of the car with a confident swing. He tried to look tough by using their height differences against him, but he wasn’t intimidating to Sukuna at all.

“Get out, Y/N,” Sukuna ordered, his voice dangerously low as he ignored Satoru and the countless cars honking behind them. His eyes were locked on the passenger side where you sat, your expression an amalgam of fear and hesitation. “I said get the fuck out!”

“Dude, chill out.” Satoru tried to put a hand on his shoulder, only to have his hand swiftly rebuffed. “I’m not letting her go with a man who’s clearly upset.”

“Stay the fuck outta this,” Sukuna growled, his fists clenched at his sides. The white-haired punk should take that as a warning. He should back out before his fist lands on his precious face. Plastic surgery isn’t cheap nowadays. “Y/N, if you don’t wanna cause a scene, I suggest you get the fuck outta there.”

Your chest rose and fell as you looked between the two men. You knew Sukuna well enough to understand that he wasn’t going to back down. And with a line of angry cars honking at the unnecessary traffic jam you were causing, you had no other choice but to open the door and step out.

Satoru's first instinct was to gesture for you to stay back. “Y/N—”

“Satoru, it’s okay,” you said softly. “I need to talk to him.”

The white-haired man hesitated at first, clearly worried for your safety, but with your insistence, he eventually nodded and stepped back to give you space. Sukuna’s eyes burned with intensity as he watched that interaction between you two.

“‘Kuna, can we at least pull over on the side and not talk in the middle of the highway?” you practically begged, your voice trembling as a few cars managed to squeeze their way between the McLaren and the YZF-R1, throwing harsh curse words towards you and your ex-boyfriend for the road blockage you had caused. Sukuna didn’t even flinch. All you could see was the anger in his eyes, and the pain lurking just beneath his irises.

“I’m perfectly fine talking here,” was Sukuna’s reply, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Tell me why you’re with that douche. I think you owe me a damn good explanation, angel.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. You just wanted to get this conversation over with. “W-We broke up. It shouldn’t matter to you anymore.”

Beep. Beep. “Get off the road, you idiots! You’re holding everyone up!”

Beep. Beep. “Who do you think you are, blocking traffic like this?”

“Is that so?” Sukuna scoffed, taking a step closer as he cornered you. “You moved on pretty quickly, didn’t you?”

You flinched at his tone, but you knew you had to tell him the truth. You knew you would not be able to escape this situation if you didn’t admit it sooner or later. “Something did happen between me and Satoru,” you finally confessed, feeling uneasy from the lingering eyes of the heated drivers. “I didn’t plan it, it was just…”

Beep. Beep. “This is a highway, not a soap opera set!”

Beep. Beep. “Take your drama somewhere else!”

Sukuna’s eyes were clouded in disgust, the color of his lenses becoming red from the fire of his fury. “So you really gave it to him?!” he demanded, his voice rising. He looked like he could punch someone at this rate. “After everything we had, you gave yourself to someone else?!”

Beep. Beep. “Learn to drive and pull over if you want to argue!”

You could feel your entire body shaking, but you tried to hold your ground. “I-I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought it would help me forget about you.”

“Forget about me?” Sukuna’s laugh was harsh, almost maniacal, because he was truly losing his shit. “You think you can forget about me by sleeping with some random guy?” He took another step closer, his presence far more overwhelming than the rest of the vehicle surrounding you. “You’re nothing to me now,” he snarled at your face, the reality of his words cutting through your heart like a knife. “You’re just another girl who threw herself away.”

Tears spilled over as you watched him turn his back on you, preparing to mount his bike again. “And what about you, Sukuna?” you challenged, despite his obvious departure. “Do you think you’re any better? You act as if you wouldn’t have cheated on me if I hadn’t confronted you about it!”

For a moment, Sukuna was silent, his anger and pain warring within him. Then he shook his head, his expression hardening as he pulled down the visor of his helmet. “But I never cheated,” he said that fact coldly, “So, don’t expect me to stick around and pick up the pieces. You’re just somebody’s leftover now.”

He turned away, the finality of his words hanging in the air to wreck you in half. As soon as he sped up the bike, he vanished into the highway, accelerating from 0 to 60 mph in 2 seconds. The roar of his bike was louder than a thunderstorm. He didn’t even care for his own safety. And as you watched him go, you could feel the rain pouring out with your heart breaking all over again, like a vase cracking against the floor, its pieces forever irreparable.

His words hurt more than his actions ever did. And you were never one to handle it as good as you thought you would be.

— —

“I’m not trying to be biased here or anything,” Choso said, lighting his cigarette as he leaned against his Harley Davidson bike. “But even if you weren’t my step-bro, I still think you did the right thing. I wouldn’t be able to stomach hearing my ex-girlfriend be fucked by some dude after years of not giving it to me.”

Sukuna crouched next to his R1, the polished bike gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the garage. He had his shirt lay discarded nearby, leaving his toned torso exposed as he worked on changing oil. Sweat mixed with grease smudged across his chest and arms, emphasizing the taut muscles and the intricate tattoos that covered his skin. If he had women here, they would have fainted already. The sight of him sweaty and shirtless while working on his bike would have been an eye candy for them, but he didn’t need to think of that now. He merely focused on moving his hands deftly, loosening bolts and draining the old oil into a container. The methodical process offered him a momentary distraction from the chaos in his mind.

“It’s simple,” Sukuna spoke, pausing to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand and inadvertently spreading more grease, “The albino guy looks rich. She just proved to me she’s nowhere near being a good girl when a rich guy’s involved.”

The memory of his ex-girlfriend as she was picked up by another man replayed in his head. He couldn’t stop imagining how your first night went on. Did you let him fuck you raw? Did you let him hit you from the back? Did you let him cum inside? Did you go for round two? Did you choke on his cock like a good girl?

He remembered what your naked body looked like. How soft your breasts felt like. How sweet your pussy tasted like. Now, another man had a taste of it, and he couldn’t be any more disgusted. It was sickening to think that another man’s cock got to feel you inside before he did. And that you willingly allowed it.

“Fuck that,” he muttered to himself, tightening the new oil filter. His eyes narrowed in concentration, but his mind drifted back to the breakup. He’d always prided himself on being in control, on not letting himself be caught in temptation. But you had pushed his buttons too far, and even though he still never betrayed you, he was sick in the stomach to see that you were the first one who did.

“Women,” Choso agreed, grinning as he shook his head. “If she wasn’t Yuki’s friend, I would’ve cut her off.”

The wrench slipped from Sukuna's hand, leaving it to clatter to the ground. He cursed under his breath, bending down to retrieve it, his movements were fluid and graceful despite the tension in his body. “You don’t need to cut her off. It’s between me and her. She still treated you like a brother.”

The younger man raked his fingers through his raven hair, checking himself out on the bike’s mirror. “Nah. She was closer to Yuuji than me, anyway.”

Sukuna stood up, wiped his hands on a rag, and poured fresh oil into the engine. The task was almost done, but his thoughts remained tangled. Seeing you with someone else couldn’t stop igniting a fire in him, a possessive rage he couldn’t quite shake. He missed the way you two were before, the way you couldn't get enough of each other when you were together. He missed the connection you shared, because it was something he hadn’t felt with anyone else.

Finishing the oil change, he straightened up, staring at his reflection in the bike’s mirror. The man looking back at him seemed foreign, his usual arrogance tempered by a vulnerability he didn’t care to acknowledge. He then ran a hand through his hair, smearing more grease, and sighed.

“Maybe it’s time to go back to the old times,” Sukuna spoke his thoughts out loud, with his step-brother merely staring at him. “I’m single now.”

With a final glance at the bike, Sukuna grabbed his shirt and slipped it on, the fabric sticking to his damp skin. He needed a ride to clear his head, to feel the rush of the wind against his face. As he swung a leg over the R1, threw his helmet on, and revved the engine, the powerful roar echoed through the space, drowning out his thoughts for a moment.

“Be careful out there!” was Choso’s last reminder.

He sped off, the world blurring around him, but no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t escape the image of your face or the sting of jealousy that burned in his chest. His mind was clouded with thoughts of you, and your face haunted him at every turn.

As he rode, his anger simmered, his frustration building with each passing moment. The pain of betrayal gnawed at him, further fueling his reckless impulses. You’re such a piece of shit. All this time, you were claiming to be this too good of a girl who was as innocent as a bunny. When, as a matter of fact, you and your new boy toy were fucking each other like rabbits. It was funny, really, how you made him wait two years for nothing. He was your boyfriend, and yet you deprived him of sexual pleasure by pretending you were scared of it. What kind of stupid virgin would throw herself to a random guy when she’s scared to lose her virginity to her own boyfriend?

Such bullshit. With a growl of frustration, Sukuna veered off course, his bike skidding to a stop in front of a familiar building. The apartment loomed before him as a dark silhouette against the night sky. It had been several weeks since he had seen her, but tonight, he didn’t care.

His fists clenched at his sides as he marched up the steps to her door. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of anger and desperation swirling inside him. He was going crazy and he wanted to blow off steam. He wanted to let his frustration out, so he banged on the door, the sound of his fist colliding with the wood echoing through the quiet street.

After a moment, the door swung open, and a stunned Yorozu stood before him, bleary-eyed and disheveled. Surprise flickered across her face as she took in his appearance, his eyes burning with intensity.

“Ryo… What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. The last time they spoke, he was very vocal about having a girlfriend and wanting to keep things professional.

Sukuna, this time around, didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I need you.”

Yorozu’s eyes widened in surprise. “But you—”

“Please, Yorozu.” He pressed a hand against the door, cornering her in between. “I really, really need you right now.”

She wasn’t naive. She understood his implication, and he had certainly conveyed that he was no longer with you. And without hesitation, she stepped aside, allowing him to enter without a word. Sukuna felt a rush of adrenaline as soon as he was inside her place, his mind consumed by the need to forget, if only for a moment.

The door closed behind him, and in the darkness of the apartment, Sukuna grabbed Yorozu’s face and kissed her lips, drowning her in the heat of passion. Things were a blur after that, because he wasn’t thinking clearly. Because he wasn’t in his proper mind. He was letting his rage cloud his thoughts, his bitterness driving his every movement. The next thing he knew, they were stumbling into her room, unable to break their intense kiss. He had kissed her like there was no tomorrow, like her mouth was suction that he couldn’t escape.

And soon enough, she was naked in her room, knelt before him as he forced his cock inside her mouth. He couldn’t get a sense of time. He couldn’t even tell if it was already midnight. All he knew was that his next few hours were spent with Yorozu, this time around, with him burying his digits in and out of her soaking pussy.

“Haaah!” She arched her back as an intense wave of pleasure hit her insides. “R-Ryo!”

Fuck. Fuck it. Sukuna, without warning, put his cock inside her cunt. And her fucked her with rage, jostled her body like a sex doll, while her eyes rolled backwards in overwhelming satisfaction. She was grinning in absolute ecstasy, her breasts bouncing wildly as he continued to hit her sensitive spot before he leaned forward to suck her perfectly round breast.

Listen, he blacked out after that. So, if you were to ask him what happened after that session with Yorozu, he wouldn’t be able to answer you because he genuinely passed out from exhaustion. All he remembered was them fucking each other’s daylights out, and the next morning, she took good care of him like she was his girlfriend again.

No, she wasn’t.

In fact, Sukuna was labeled an asshole for ghosting her. He didn’t contact her after that night, nor did he have any further encounter with her. Instead, he went back to his old life way before you. An addict, an alcoholic, a womanizer.

For the next few months, that became his life without you.

He slept with different girls every few nights, especially his clients. It got to a point where he couldn’t even recall their names, and he couldn’t remember having brought them to his apartment the night prior, because he was often too high off his mind. Every girl who came to his tattoo shop for an appointment became his companion during the night. And today, one of those girls was among the many who annoyed him afterward.

“Hey,” the girl spoke in a lascivious manner, running her slender fingers through his hair. He wasn’t sure if her name was Rina or Kiko. “You slept throughout the afternoon. Do you wanna go grab something to eat?”

Sukuna groaned, covering his head with a duvet. “Why are you still here?”

He didn’t need to see her face to know that confusion settled her delicate features. “But I thought we were…”

“Leave,” was his harsh reply. “You’re just a one-night stand to me.”

— —

“So, Y/N,” Suguru began with a playful twinkle in his eye. “Why haven’t you made Satoru yours yet?”

You rolled your eyes at Getou’s antics. He was clearly on it with his best friend, and their goal today seemed to be to tease the heck out of you. “Maybe I like to keep him guessing,” you retorted with a smirk, though your mind was far from the playful banter.

“But there’s nothing to guess!” Satoru, on the other hand, protested. He was even displaying a childish pout. “We’ve seen each other naked, you know—”

Before he could finish his sentence, you swiftly covered his mouth with your hand, earning a cackle from Suguru in return. Thank goodness there weren’t that many people in the cafe today, because you were never safe around those two. They were inseparable, like two peas in a pod, sharing one brain cell. Like yin yang.

“Shut up,” you merely replied.

“Baby, don’t be shy,” Satoru teased again, giggling like an immature child together with Suguru. “You’re an adult who did adult things.”

You sighed, wondering if you would ever get a break from these idiots. “This is exactly why I don’t date you.”

It was a joke, of course. The delivery, however, was a bit dry. But nonetheless, your statement caused Suguru to laugh at his best friend who, in his defense, tried to recover his trampled ego by denying your statement.

“She’s lying,” Satoru denied, as if convincing Suguru was his top priority, “You never told me your cousin’s hard-to-get.”

“Yeah,” agreed Suguru, playfully, “Definitely hard-to-get. The only girl who can make Sukuna pussy-less for two years.”

“Hey!” It was Yuki who intervened, knowing full well that Getou was below the belt on that joke. “Enough of that.”

In truth, you felt it was a touchy subject for you. Anything related to Sukuna, especially that aspect of your past relationship, was something you avoided like a plague. You wanted no mentions of him, and of what he did, and of what you didn’t do. He had simply become that person who can’t be named, like Voldemort.

But the thing was, it was unavoidable sometimes. You weren’t mad at Suguru for bringing him up. You knew that him and Satoru, ever mischievous, were just playfully ribbing at you, but you couldn’t muster up the same enthusiasm to banter back. You were just upset because hearing Sukuna’s name reminded you of the very reason why you hadn’t been in the happiest mood today.

If it wasn’t obvious to them, your mind had been elsewhere since this morning, too fixated on the influx of girls you noticed had been frequently visiting Sukuna’s tattoo shop lately. You knew you didn’t have the right to feel jealous anymore, you knew you should no longer care about what he does with his life, but you couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that something was off.

And Yuki, sensing your distraction, gently pulled you to the side for a private conversation away from the chatter of your friends.

“Hey, Y/N. Everything okay?” Yuki asked, her tone soft and understanding. She wasn’t forcing you to open up, rather, she was allowing you to share only what you wanted to.

You did hesitate for a moment before finding it safe to confide in her. “I just can’t stop thinking about him. And those girls at his shop... I don’t know, it’s just been bothering me."

Yuki listened attentively, her expression empathetic. “Y/N, I know this might be hard to hear, but have you considered that Sukuna might be seeing other people?”

Your heart sank at Yuki’s words. You had entertained the thought before, but hearing it from someone else made it feel more real. “Is… Is he?”

“Well, not exactly,” she admitted reluctantly. “But Choso told me he’s been sleeping around.” Yuki then placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, anticipating your heartbreak from the news she delivered. And she was right. In just a few words, it felt like someone had stabbed you with a knife on the chest. “I'm sorry, Y/N. I agree, you deserve someone who respects and cherishes you. If Sukuna isn’t that person, then maybe it’s time to let go.”

You forced a nod, feeling a mix of sadness and regret wash over you, but you didn’t want to break down in front of Yuki. You definitely didn’t want to cry with Satoru and Suguru around. You knew deep down that Yuki was right, but accepting it was just another matter entirely and you weren’t sure if you were prepared for it.

“Listen, why don’t we go out?” she offered, a smile of encouragement spreading on her peachy lips, “Let’s have a drink or something. Anything just to keep your mind off of him. What do you say?”

— —

It was a mistake.

You fidgeted uncomfortably on the barstool, feeling out of place amidst the pulsating music and the raucous laughter that filled the rooftop bar. Yuki, Getou, and Gojou seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, chatting animatedly over their drinks like it was a scene that they were used to. But for you, this environment was foreign territory. You weren’t accustomed to the loudness, the crowdedness, the palpable energy that thrummed through the air. Heck, you didn’t even drink alcohol. You couldn’t stand the taste nor could you see the benefit of drinking.

But you didn’t want to be a party pooper. Yuki did you a favor here, and it was for you to get your mind off the man who kept torturing your soul over and over. If you were to leave now, it would just beat Yuki’s purpose of tagging you along.

You were supposed to enjoy it. You were supposed to have fun, dancing with them, singing along to the music. They weren’t even the type of music Sukuna listened to.

“Y/N, bottoms up!” You weren’t sure if it was Satoru or Suguru who said that, but they both offered you a small glass of vodka, urging you to drink it in one shot.

As much as you wanted to, you had to refuse, speaking over the loud music. “I’m good, thank you.”

And as you scanned the room, your eyes inadvertently locked onto a figure across the bar.

Amidst the throng of people.

The one person you wanted to avoid.

Sukuna.

He stood out effortlessly in the crowd, exuding an aura of confidence and charisma that drew your gaze like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t believe it. No, you just couldn’t believe it. You could be hallucinating because it would be too much of a coincidence for him to be here.

But as soon as his eyes met yours, you knew he wasn’t just a figure of your imagination. Deep in your heart, you knew it was him. You couldn’t be mistaken when those eyes, those lips, those goddamn tattoos, were all him.

Though, as you two locked gaze, his expression told a different story. They were a jumble of surprise, guilt, and bitterness. He seemed just as startled to see you as you were to see him. But beneath it all, there was an undeniable tension, a silent acknowledgment of unfinished business between you.

No, you can’t walk away from me. Excusing yourself quietly, you slipped away from the table, unnoticed by your friends, and made your way through the crowd of people towards him. He was already walking away at that point, ready to avoid your presence as if seeing you was torture for him. But didn’t he know? You were too stubborn for your own good. You relentlessly followed him, squeezing in between a drunken crowd, realizing that Sukuna was heading down.

In the abandoned part of the building’s parking lot, you finally caught up to him, your heart pounding in your chest as you faced him.

“‘Kuna,” you called out, “Please.”

Sukuna turned to face you, his expression unreadable as he regarded you with dark, intense eyes. “Hey,” he replied coolly, his voice a low rumble in the night air as he walked closer to his bike.

“You’re not supposed to ride when you’re drunk,” you began.

To which he sneered at. “Why? You think I’m here to offer you a ride back home, angel?”

Aggravating as ever. He was still that arrogant bastard you knew, and loved. “No, you’re probably doing that to someone else.”

“Why don’t you go back to your filthy rich boyfriend?”

“Are you jealous?” you bit back, now feeling a palpable tension transpiring between you, but you tried not to let it stop you from speaking to him. “Whatever happened to me and Satoru was just one time.”

Sukuna scoffed at your statement. “I didn’t ask, angel.”

Truthfully, he was the most frustrating man in the world right now. And dealing with him was definitely the hardest job ever, but your purpose of running after him wasn’t to bicker. All you wanted was to confirm something that had been bothering you. So you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. “Have you been sleeping around?”

His expression remained stoic, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of defiance. “Are you jealous?” he mocked, returning the same question back to you. “So what if I am?”

You couldn’t tell what overcame you more; was it the pain or the anger? But surely, a hundred percent, your frustration was definitely boiling over. “So you are,” you huffed, “See, that wasn’t so hard to admit, isn’t it? This is what you’ve always wanted to do! To sleep with those girls!”

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you, the tension was crackling in the air like electricity. Then, without warning, Sukuna closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to grab your jaw.

“You don’t get to turn this back around on me,” he spat, swallowing the obvious pain in his voice, “You’re the one who started it all.”

Your breath was caught in your throat as you felt the heat of his body so close to yours, his touch igniting an altogether new fire within you. Despite the anger building inside your heart, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him, the magnetic attraction that seemed to draw you together like two black holes ready to destroy one another.

“I fucking waited for you,” he continued, his voice now deepening in a more sincere tone, “I know I was wrong for not setting boundaries, but I never, not once, cheated on you. I never fucking did! But you couldn’t trust me, right? You couldn’t fuckin’ trust me.” His pupils dilated as he raised his voice. “You’re so caught up in being too goddamn insecure about yourself when all I wanted was to have intimacy with you—”

“All you wanted was sex, just admit that!” you yelled back, jerking his hand away as tears began to fill your eyes. “And maybe I was right for giving my first to someone else, because you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve it when you’ve always pressured me into giving it to you.”

Sukuna’s laughter filled the air, a disbelieving chuckle that bordered on frustration. He threw his head back, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. Without hesitation, he snatched his helmet and hurled it across the floor, the sound of impact startling you.

“I never fucking pressured you!” His voice was raw with emotion as he walked back towards you, frustration and hurt evident in every step. “You’re the only girl I genuinely respected. You think I enjoyed being celibate for two fucking years?! No, the fuck, I didn’t! But I waited. I waited because I didn't want you to feel forced! It was all in your fucking head, Y/N. Your doubts, your uncertainties about me. I’m a man too, damn it! Of course, it frustrated me, but that doesn’t mean I would ever leave you or cheat on you.” And just when you thought it was over, he spoke again, his words now silencing into a painful tone, his eyes shining from the tears blanketing his gaze, “Did you think you were the only one who was insecure? Every damn day, Y/N, I was scared you were gonna leave me. That you were gonna find some other guy, someone who could give you everything you want—a big house, a nice car, a successful life. I didn’t have all that. And it kills me every single day knowing that that’s exactly the type of guy you went after the moment we broke up.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, as Sukuna’s words replayed in your mind like a broken record. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, couldn’t find the words to refute his accusations. Because deep down, you knew he had a point. Your doubts, your insecurities—they had clouded your judgment, poisoned your perception of Sukuna. And now, faced with his raw honesty, you couldn’t deny the truth in his words.

But accepting that truth was a bitter pill to swallow. It meant acknowledging your own flaws, your own role in the breakdown of your relationship. And it meant coming to terms with the fact that maybe, just maybe, you had let your fears drive you to push away the person who had truly cared for you.

As Sukuna stood before you, frustration and hurt etched into every line of his face, you felt a pang of regret twist in your chest. You wanted to reach out, to apologize, to admit that you had your wrongs, too. But no words came out, choked by the weight of your own self-doubt.

“I…” you struggled to respond. It was a battle you weren’t ready to fight, so your only option was to run away. To turn away like a coward, and to flee the agonizing reality of your relationship.

But Sukuna didn’t let you. Instead, he closed the remaining space between you, his lips crashing down on yours in a hungry, desperate kiss.

In that moment, all thoughts of anger and confrontation melted away as you surrendered to the intoxicating allure of Sukuna’s touch. Lost in the heat of the moment, lost in a puddle of strong emotions. You fell deeper into the trap of your undeniable sexual tension, your bodies becoming entwined in a passionate embrace in the empty parking lot.

His lips were soft against yours, his tongue rolling in the opposite motion as you kissed him deeper. More, more. He was hungry for more. And so were you.

So when he kissed your neck, you allowed it.

When he squeezed your breast, you allowed it.

When he raised your skirt, you allowed it.

You released a moan into his mouth as he sat you on top of his motorbike, standing in between your legs as he reattached his lips back to yours. Your mouths enveloped each other perfectly. The bittersweet taste of his tongue, now moving south down your neck.

“Sukuna…”

While his mouth was busy doing its own work, his hands too were occupied in touching areas he had once explored. One hand travelled to your thigh, squeezing your flesh before he reached your crotch. Two fingers touched your underwear, as if he was checking if you were wet, before he pushed them onto the side to set your cunt free.

You ended up wrapping your arms around his neck, a gasp escaping your lips as his fingers played with your entrance. Your clit, your sensitive bud, also wasn’t ignored when he began moving his fingers in a circular motion.

“Mmmh!”

What was going through his head? You knew he was aroused, but why did his gaze look so dark? It was too grim, to the point where it scared you. But you were far too distracted when his other hand went to grab a hold of your tit, squeezing your mound, and kneading the soft skin. He had pulled down your neckline to release your tits in the air, quickly attaching his mouth onto one breast as soon as they were out in the open.

“Haaah!”

You were going crazy, both from the fingers that were entering your cunt, and the mouth that was sucking your tit. You had your back arched into a C, your arms grabbing onto his shoulder as he became more and more aggressive with his touch.

And you weren’t exaggerating when you said he was being more aggressive with it, because when he pulled himself away from you, it only lasted for a few seconds before he grabbed your waist and twisted your body around. In a blink of an eye, he had you position against his motorbike, with your body leaning against the seat and your ass high enough for his crotch.

“S-Sukuna, s-someone might walk in—”

He had pulled your underwear down, letting it stay in between your knees, before rubbing your pussy from behind. His breath was warm when he whispered into your ear, “Don’t act like you hate it.”

He wasn’t wrong with that either. Because while he was touching your entrance, testing if the tip of his cock would smoothly glide in, you became an animal in heat, ready to be devoured by him. You had to cover your mouth, forcing yourself to keep your voice down as he finally buried his cock six inches deep inside of you.

“A-Aah!” your body jerked forward as Sukuna rawdogged you from behind. “S-Sukuna, aah!”

“You’re such a fucking slut,” he cussed under his breath, feeling a painful stretch on your scalp as he pulled your hair, “Did he fuck you this good?”

“Mmh—no!”

The sound of skin-slapping was reverberating across the empty lot.

“Did you let him cum inside?”

“N-No…!”

He was insatiable. He couldn’t get enough of the tightness of your cunt. He, too, was moaning from the feeling of your velvet walls milking his cock like a warm glove. So he continued to thrust inside you, his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as he rammed his cock inside faster, and harder, and deeper.

Your buttocks were becoming too sore, the stretch of skin on your bum vibrating in waves every time he hit you balls deep inside.

And while you were a moaning hot mess below him, a realization suddenly hit you in the face like a truck. Throughout your relationship, this was all he had ever wanted to do with you. He had always talked about doing it slowly, in a romantic set up with candles lit and petals around, in a place where you can lay yourself comfortably. You dreamed of him whispering I love you’s into your mouth as you two made love. You fantasized about him lovingly looking into your eyes as he reached his high. You used to picture him out, intertwining his hands with yours as he tells you you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

Yet now, you were doing it in the basement parking lot. In a dark, dirty place. Bent over against the uncomfortable seat of his bike.

And more importantly, he was treating you like a whore.

Tears welled up your eyes as you felt Sukuna pull out after finishing. For a minute, he gathered himself together, his head pressed against your nape as he sighed.

“It’s not working, Y/N,” he mumbled against your skin, voicing the exact words you were afraid to hear.

“I know…” You sniffed, pulling the strap of your dress back up and adjusting your skirt back down.

He didn’t need to say anything more. When he gave you one last kiss on the forehead and wrapped you in his jacket, you understood the full weight of his words. It wasn’t just about this moment; it was about everything that had led you here.

It didn’t work because you had already shattered your perceptions of each other. Both tarnished the way you saw one another. He would never come to terms with the fact that you gave yourself to another guy, just as you could never accept that he had slept with the same girls you had always warned him about. It would only lead to a constant game of back-and-forths, of pointing fingers, of toxic love.

So you watched him mount his bike, rev the engine, and look at you one last time before speeding away. His figure disappeared into the dark like a shadow, like a dream you only once knew.

That was the last time you ever saw Ryomen Sukuna in your lifetime.

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #sukuna angst #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jjk angst #biker sukuna #tattoo artist sukuna #bad boy sukuna #biker au

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megamindsecretlair · 27 days ago

Text

Dance in the Dark

Pairing: Ghostface!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, Dom!Terry, mean Terry, SMUT, PWP, PIV, oral (male receiving), fingering (female receiving), knife kink, hair pulling, praise kink, degradation kink, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: One drunken night, you giggle with your friends as you dared each other to sign up for a fetish dating website that matched your kinks with others. The site took its reputation seriously so you knew that the man on the other side of the screen was real. And he really was that gorgeous. Terry acknowledges that it's time to meet and he makes sure this Halloween is unforgettable.

Word Count: 6,350k

AO3 Link

A/N: WHEW. I'll see myself out on this one. Chilleeee. I need to hose myself down. Enjoy and Happy Halloween, my loves. Taking a much needed break after this one! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

📥 New Message

You continued to swing back and forth on your gamer chair, grabbing your phone and immediately swiping on the message.

TJ: I look forward to tonight.

You shrieked and bit your nail, pulling your legs in towards you as far as they would go. When that grew uncomfortable, you lifted your sock-clad feet to the edge. It dug into your arch but your mind was only focused on one Mr. Terry Richmond.

It shouldn’t have thrilled you so much to receive a message from him. It had started out as a simple dare with your friends, each of you making a profile on a fetish connection website and laughing at all the desperate men.

You never expected to actually run across someone who looked like him. You thought he was fake or a bot. You thought AI had crept its way into the dating scene, preying on unsuspecting lonely people. The checkmark next to his name let you know that he was, in fact, very much real.

The website took its privacy and its reputation very seriously, vetting all members that signed up. You included. Anyone could message first, the app offering potential matches based on answers to the questionnaire on start up.

You and your friends had giggled, deliriously drunk while you answered the questions. Some you kept to yourself. Not because you were embarrassed, but because you were kind of taking it seriously. You wanted to see what was out there for someone like you, someone who desperately wanted to hand over control to someone capable of leading.

You: Me too.

TJ: Did the box arrive?

You sucked in a rush of air since you forgot to breathe. Over the course of the past few weeks, you shared many messages with Terry. Told each other everything really. You always managed to skirt around talking about the obvious. That you were on a fetish dating website and looking for someone to take control.

You discussed books you’ve read or music you listened to. No matter how silly your tastes, Terry wanted to hear it all. You always felt heard with him. Understood by him. And it made your crush sink further in your chest and take root. Blossom into a full on obsession with his pictures.

He was a private man, evident by his profile that you visited at least ten times a day. Eleven if you had enough time to stroke yourself to his pictures. He didn’t have many, but he had a few of him in the gym and of him hiking. He had one thirst trap picture of him in a berry shirt, staring at the camera with crushing intensity.

As you grew more serious, Terry began to switch up the conversations. Naturally sliding in his dominant nature by telling you to do things. He did it so subtly, so minutely, that you hadn’t known what was going on until he was ordering you not to touch yourself anymore and you actually obeyed. All from texts.

You stared at his latest message, panties growing damp from how excited he made you. The past week, he decided that it was time to meet in person. You were obviously nervous, but every time you thought of it, your thighs tingled and your pussy throbbed.

You: I got everything.

TJ: Good. I want you to relax tonight.

You giggled breathlessly in the comfort of your room, chewing on your nail. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be your life. It would be hard to relax knowing that Terry could slip in at any time. Show off those mysterious Marine skills he talked about on his profile.

You: You really don’t find this weird?

TJ: What’s weird about it? It’s healthy.

TJ: Besides, I’ve been fighting an erection all week thinking about tonight.

“God,” you moaned out loud.

It turned you on even more that he was so open with his desire for you. You were used to weak men constantly trying to play it cool. Play it smart. Act as if they were doing you a favor by being with you. You always knew that a real man wouldn’t pretend. He’d be real. And Terry was real.

You: It’s been so hard not touching myself. 😣

TJ: You didn’t, did you?

You: Noooo 😇

TJ: Am I sensing a brat? A little late in the game to introduce curveballs.

You giggled at your phone, nearly kicking your feet. You were obsessed. You had a job where you couldn’t even try to sneak and be on your phone. Rules were important and you always felt like you had a neon sign professing your guilt whenever you broke a single one. But you were always itching to look at your phone. To see if there was a new message from him or a new command.

Once, he made you stop what you were doing and go to the nearest bathroom to edge yourself. You’d never done anything like that before and you had been so nervous, but fuck, you had been close to cumming. It was impossible to stop yourself but somehow you did.

Another time, he wanted you to take your sexiest picture. You had been fussing and fawning over the correct one, loving them all but you weren’t sure which one would appeal to him. Then it dawned on you. It was about what appealed to you.

After that, you took a teasing photo showing just enough but hiding a lot more. You wore a black bra and panty set and sat on your haunches, letting your thick thighs widen. You tilted your head and gave him a shy smile. The minute the picture went off, you knew it was a good one.

You sent it to him and he sent you a picture back five minutes later showing a puddle of cum on his office desk. This man drove you wild, stimulated your brain in the best possible way. You hadn’t ever known a man to seduce your mind the way he seduced all your other senses.

He sent a few voice notes, enough to understand the cadence of his speech while he issued out small orders. It wasn’t always sexual. Sometimes he wanted you to go to bed early, grab you some tea, or run you a hot bath because you had a body ache earlier.

You: Moi? A brat. I know not what you mean.

An alarm went off on your phone letting you know that it was past time to start getting ready. The first part of Terry's carefully thought out night was that you took a bath, paid attention to your body, relaxed with a glass of wine and unwound from the day.

Hell, that sounded relaxing just on general principle. You took your phone with you into the bathroom, turning on the light and getting the bath started. You added your favorite scent, pouring a healthy dollop of bath soap into the steaming water.

You hummed as you moved around the space, gathering a plush cream towel big enough to fit around your body. Comfort items had to be one of your platonic love languages. You loved soft things. From blanket hoodies, to bath towels, to throw blankets.

You lit a candle as the water ran, white bubbles foaming on the surface of the water. You went to the kitchen and poured your favorite glass of wine, swirling the liquid in your wine glass. You sniffed the glass and took in the subtle notes and highlights.

You hooked up your phone to your bathroom speaker on your way back to the bathroom, turning on some grown and sexy music. Terry wanted you to relax, then you were going to relax.

You told him you were hopping in the bath and he responded quickly.

TJ: Take your time, beautiful.

Your heart fluttered and you sighed, wondering how the hell you got so lucky. Truly, what kind, divine act did you commit to land someone like Terry? You had to pinch yourself as you took off your clothes.

Your silk short shorts and tank top slid down your body, tingling in some areas from how hyper aware you were. You sat on a hand towel on the edge of the tub and ran your fingers through the water. Just a few more minutes before it was perfect.

You grabbed the last candle you used, the smell of spearmint eucalyptus filling the space even if it wasn’t lit. You used an electric lighter to light it. The soft glow played across your hands and you took a deep breath.

Tonight already did wonders for your frayed nerves. Taking the time to soak everything in helped you relax in a way only journaling could accomplish. You needed more nights like these, nights that were just for you.

You tucked your hair into a bonnet and then sunk into the bath, moaning at the hot water touching your cool skin. The water sloshed as you carefully sat down, leaning your back against the back of your tub and moaning once more.

This felt entirely too good. “Falsetto” by the Dream played and you sank further into the water, lighting washing yourself at first. You started with a face mask, smattering the cream on your face. You let that sit while you washed the rest of your body.

With every area that you washed, you wondered which areas Terry would pay attention to. Was he an ass man? Titties man? Thighs man? You had your impressions but you didn’t want to get too caught up in the fantasy. If tonight went well, you hoped to turn this into a full time thing if he was game.

You didn’t have to date on top of it, but god, you wouldn’t say no either. Wouldn’t say no to living life the way you needed to. Being at the mercy of someone who knew what to do with it. How to handle you. How to take all of your stress and worries and let you know what peace felt like. You wanted to do the same for him.

You wanted to be the one he sought out when he had a bad day. Or when he just needed some stress relief. When the world got too loud and unfair and the only thing he could control was whether or not you came.

You wanted that push and pull and you wanted it desperately with Terry. You only hoped he was game as well. He said he wasn’t talking to others on the app and you wanted to believe him. You also wouldn’t blame him if he were lying. You only needed him to be safe and careful.

He sent over his latest test results showing that he was clean. He told you from the onset that he hated condoms. He enjoyed the feeling of pussy wrapped around his dick. You were on the pill and showed him your results as well. Somehow, he even made getting tested sexy.

After your bath, you took time shaving the important bits. You rubbed your favorite lotion and perfume together and then rubbed it into your skin. Your skin prickled. When would he do it?

When you were in bed? When you were in the kitchen? When you were on your way out of the bathroom? You looked towards your bathroom door. It was slightly ajar, your dark hallway beyond.

He could be there now, watching you just beyond the shadows. It should scare you. Yet it only made your skin flush with heat. Your breathing turned choppy and you forced yourself to return to that sense of calm you had before.

You finished lotioning up and brushed your teeth, adding on a mint just in case. You blew out the candle and then pulled on your robe, returning to your darkened room. The blackout curtains worked well. The darkened room felt more intimate than normal.

Terry’s preferred outfit lay across your freshly laundered comforter and sheets. You hoped after tonight, that it would be good and filthy again. You slipped on the lingerie Terry shipped to you, taking your time to pull on the purple metallic bra with fleur-de-lis decorations in black and turquoise blue. The matching panties and skirt set glided smoothly across your dewy skin.

The skirt connected to thigh high stockings and you hurriedly pulled those on as well. You leaned down to pull on high heels, strapping it around your ankle. You’d never felt sexier. There was something deeply erotic about wearing an outfit someone else picked for you.

You took off your bonnet and shook out your hair, arranging it just how you liked. You walked over to your closet, opening the door to look in the long mirror. You turned from side to side, appreciating how well it fit. How sexy it looked on you.

The heels felt like stepping on clouds and you walked around your room, getting used to the feel of it. Hell, you’d fuck you in a heartbeat. You hoped Terry liked it. Speaking of…

You went over to your dresser, cleaning up some of the mess you made while getting ready for work. You grabbed your phone, charging, and switched the song to Under by Pleasure P.

You opened the new message by Terry, tingling pinpricks shooting up your inner thighs.

TJ: See you soon, beautiful.

The message was sent when you began your bath so you had no idea if he was just now leaving or if he was already there. Not knowing had you clenching your thighs. You had to calm down. Had to return to a relaxed state.

Final steps. You dimmed the lights in your bedroom, setting it to where you could barely see. You transferred the music from your bathroom to your bedroom’s speakers. Then you grabbed your wine and took a few more sips until you emptied your glass. You pouted at the missing liquid and then sighed.

You turned around, trudging to the kitchen to the nasty croon of Pleasure P. singing. You hummed as you opened your fridge, bringing out your wine and pouring another healthy glass.

You stopped pouring and lifted your head, an awareness of being watched creeping into your senses. You slowly turned around but there was no one in the kitchen. You fought the urge to turn on the overhead lights, letting the backlighting guide most of your way.

There was no one behind you, yet you couldn’t fight the urge that he was there. That he was near. “Terry?” You called out. Your house never seemed so empty before. You stepped forward, your heels clicking on the tile.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and you jumped with a shriek, laughing as you saw Terry’s phone number flash across your screen. You swiped it to answer it and brought it to your ear.

“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to call out who’s there?” He asked.

“Terry?” You asked, breathlessly, looking for any sign of movement. There was nothing in the pitch black night outside your house and not a peep from the one level house.

Terry’s deep chuckle made you shiver and bite your lip. This man was too sexy for words. Too fucking sinful. He was the total and complete package, driving you crazy with a few well placed words.

“Are you scared?” Terry asked, dropping his voice to a low, purring tease.

“N-No,” you said. You abandoned your wine and then went snooping around your own home, staring at closet doors warily. How did he get in? If he got into your place without a disturbance in the air, you hated to be an enemy of his. Hated to see what he was capable of when he was focused on a mission.

Terry chuckled. “Don’t lie to me,” he said.

“A little. I’m a little scared,” you admitted.

“That’s better. I’d be worried if you weren’t. You smell good by the way,” he said.

Your gasp was a mix of a whine and a moan. Where was he? Where would he pop out? You walked towards the back of the house, towards your room and your bathroom. You checked behind the doors and everything.

“You’re playing with me,” you said, with a breathless giggle.

“A little. Remember our safe word?” He asked.

You nodded and licked your lips but then it dawned on you that he couldn’t truly see you. “Yes. It’s Halloween,” you said.

“Good girl,” he purred.

You whimpered, pussy fluttering. Your essence pooled in your panties. There was no way that you could play it cool tonight. No way to remain cool, aloof, and alluring. You were down bad for Terry Richmond. Down atrocious. There was nothing that you could deny him. Nothing he couldn’t ask for that you wouldn’t try to provide.

“Want to play a game? I have a few questions,” he said.

“What kind of questions?” You asked. You searched high and low but you couldn’t determine where he was. If he was in the house or if he was right outside. You were not dressed for outside so you didn’t even attempt it.

Instead, you went around to check the locks on your doors. All still locked. Nothing amiss. You pulled back the white curtain on your back door window and peered out into the foggy evening. Nothing moved. Not a single leaf or blade of grass.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” He asked, a dark rumble in his voice that made you bite your lip once more. This was why you could never seriously wear lipstick or lipgloss. Maybe for about ten minutes before you were biting or nibbling or picking at your lips.

You giggled. “Really?” You asked.

“Don’t want to play with me?” He asked.

You sighed and relaxed a fraction. He couldn’t be in the house yet. He was only toying with you and you were letting him get to you. He told you to relax and that was what you were going to do.

“The Frighteners,” you answered.

Terry chuckled. “That doesn’t count.”

“Sure it does. It’s classified as horror and it sure freaked me the hell out,” you said.

“Do you get scared easily?” He asked.

“Depends. I can watch movies but being scared in real life sucks,” you said. Which only made this whole exchange all the more surreal. But you were already a dripping mess. Forget prep time. Terry would have no issues just sliding right inside you.

“Can you guess which room I’m in right now?” Terry asked.

You gasped, turning around. Didn’t you just check all of the doors? You stepped back into your kitchen. You could hear your gasping breaths, heart thumping against your rib cage. “You’re playing with me again,” you said.

“Am I? You’re cold by the way,” he said.

You released your breath in slow increments, stepping forward through your kitchen with blue cabinets making the kitchen darker. You peered around the corner, looking towards the living room. You took a step forward and Terry tsked at you.

“Freezing,” he said.

You giggled nervously, turning around to your hallway. Your steps turned from clacking to pattering on the runner as you walked down the hallway. “Getting warmer. Warmer,” Terry teased as you walked closer to your bedroom.

Your heart was in your throat, beating a thumping rhythm against your neck as you traveled closer to your room. Why had you turned the lights so low? You inched closer, wanting to get close but not wanting to be blindsided by Terry jumping out.

“Burning up,” Terry said as you passed the linen closet. You stopped and reached out a hand, turning the handle slowly and then opening the door. You flinched, prepared for Terry to jump out.

“Found you,” Terry said.

You giggled, relief flooding through you now that you knew he wasn’t on the other side. You closed the door and then walked to your bedroom just fine, putting your hand on your hips. “You’re not really here. Because if you were, you’d be able to tell me what I’m doing right now,” you said.

You made an L on your forehead and twisted around in your room. “What am I doing?” You called out. “What am I doing?”

You giggled and lowered your hand, turning around just as a shadow passed in front of your door. You squealed and tripped over your heels trying to backtrack away. Escape, escape! Your mind flashed warning bells in your mind.

A man stood in front of you wearing black cargo pants, black boots, and a black tank top. Tattoos caught in the low light of your bedroom window and your pussy clenched looking at his powerful arms. The Ghostface mask seemed to float in the air but you knew just beneath that was Terry’s fine face.

“Boo,” he said.

Your mouth turned dry at being scared but heat flooded through your system taking in every delicious inch of him. He was incredibly tall and he had to duck to cross into your room.

You backed away even as your mind screamed for you to move forward. Terry raised a knife in his hand, the metal glinting. It was a standard chef’s knife and you whimpered looking at it.

This was the dumbest thing you’d ever done. The wildest, stupidest, most asinine thing ever. But it was also a wish that came true. You were already a puddle, a mix of adrenaline and arousal confusing your senses in the worst way. You didn’t know if you wanted to scream from frustration or fear.

Terry tilted his head, making the mask go sideways. He stepped closer to you and brought his hand up to caress your chin. He pulled you closer to his mask and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Couldn’t look away at the ghostly visage as he took a deep breath.

“You smell good enough to eat,” he said.

You sighed and finally blinked. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” you said.

“Safe word?” He asked.

“Halloween,” you said.

Terry nodded and then walked around in a circle, perusing your body as if you were on display. He hand followed behind him, reaching out to run his rough, callused fingers across your bare belly. “Gorgeous,” he said.

Fuck, you were ready to burst right out of your skin. This entire week had been nothing but foreplay to you. He gave instructions and a list of things to obtain for him, things he wanted you to choose so that you knew exactly what was coming.

“What are you going to do now?” You asked. You felt like he could hear your audible gulp. Swallowing around the thick cord of lust zapping through your body and making it hard to breathe properly. You were on the edge, itchy with the need to cum, but knowing that it would only happen when he decided.

“Where’s the rope?” He asked. You felt behind you on the dresser for the silk rope he asked you to pick out. Something soft and easily adjustable so that you could escape at any moment. If this continued, you’d work your way up to more hardcore stuff. Hand over more and more of yourself.

Your fingers clasped clumsily around the rope and held it up. Terry leaned to one side and tilted his head once more, playing with the edge of the knife. “Put it on,” he commanded.

You licked your lips and slipped the silk rope around your wrists and tightened it. Terry crooked his finger and you walked forward immediately. No use pretending that this wasn’t exactly what you craved.

Terry had set a neat trap in his messages and voice notes to you. The late night calls where his sinful voice rocked you to sleep. He made it easy to surrender. To give in. To cast off all of the doubt and anxiousness. Now you just wanted to feel. To listen. To shut your brain off for half a second and enjoy yourself.

Terry tugged you forward by the silk rope, testing the limit and resistance on it. You almost hated that you couldn’t see his pretty face. But you’d cum so many times to his pictures that you had it committed to memory.

Terry pulled you forward with the rope, pulling you over to your bed and pushed you down. You bounced with a gasp, your titties bouncing with the movement. Terry stepped into your personal space, leaning down and pressing the cold metal of the knife against your throat. You moaned, feeling the knife slide across your skin. He barely grazed you but it was the dark promise of it that turned you on.

That you were a hair’s breadth away from mortal danger. That at any moment, he could press deeper and draw blood. You whimpered as your body overheated. You burned from the inside out, sweat breaking out in patches all over your body.

“Terry,” you moaned.

Terry moved the knife down to trail over the swells of your breasts. Your chest rose and fell in choppy waves, getting too excited before he had a chance to do anything. He slipped the knife beneath your bra and you moaned, arching your chest into the knife.

“You’re too trusting,” he said. He palmed your breasts roughly, finding your nipples through the fabric of your bra and squeezing painfully. You cried out, trying to close your legs but he had encroached upon your space without you realizing. You had been too busy focusing on the knife and his mask.

He tossed the knife onto the bed and gripped your thighs, spreading you open and yanking you to the edge of the bed. The music still playing in the background only added to the scene, getting you further into the mood.

I know you like it nasty.

Nasty by Joshua Williams began to play, juices slipping between your legs and soaking your panties.

Terry pushed the seat of your panties to the side, trailing his fingers through your wet folds. “Oh, fuck,” you whispered, whimpering as your hands flew to his to stall his movements. He ignored you, smacking your hands away.

“Push them titties up and keep your hands there,” he said.

You grabbed your titties and pushed them together. Terry groaned, leaning forward. His thick fingers played you like a fiddle, gathering up your slick. He shoved two fingers inside and you cried out, body arching. Your hands slipped from holding your titties.

“Put your hand back. Don’t make me tell you again,” he growled.

You whimpered and replaced your hands on your chest. You turned pleading, doe eyes towards him. Terry leaned down and rubbed the mask against your cheek. You shivered from the unexpected coolness of it. It did little to dampen the heat in your veins. The fire in your lower belly.

“Nice and fuckin’ wet. All of this for me?” Terry asked.

You nodded. “Yes, yes,” you said. His fingers worked liquid magic on your pussy, making you soak his fingers with how long and deep his fingers went. You opened your mouth, arching your back and grinding on his fingers. He stroked until you were shaking and moaning on his fingers.

“Gonna stretch the fuck outta this pretty pussy,” he promised. He withdrew his fingers and then shoved his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. Taste how wet he made you. Taste how turned on you were under his control.

He ripped at your panties and you gasped at the shredding sound, knees trying to close around his massive frame. His narrow hips kept you spread open. He moaned, getting his first look at your pussy. “Look at that shit. My needy little slut,” he groaned.

Your pussy clenched as he unzipped his pants, jerking it down his hips and revealing his long, thick dick. Your eyes widened taking in the size and girth of him. His balls were big and heavy, drooping and tapping against his strong thighs.

He slapped his dick against your pussy, competing with the music. You moaned with each wet smack, hearing how turned on you were. Your taste was still on your tongue, in your nose, and you closed your eyes to all of the sensations.

Terry pushed you onto your back and slapped his dick against your pussy once more, your juices jumping from the action. Your teeth chattered, unbridled desire coursing through you and driving your pleasure higher and higher.

It’d been too long since you came. Too long since you felt that rush of relief and you were ready to leap from your skin.

Terry grabbed the knife and slipped it beneath your bra. He cut it loose and you cried out, your titties free and spilling out from either side of the cups. Terry groaned, pushing his hips in before catching himself.

He palmed himself with his other hand and guided himself inside, placing the knife against your skin but keeping his fingers there as a barrier so that it wasn’t directly on you. Just held above your skin as a silent threat.

He was so big, you cried out, holding up your hands. Terry ignored you, pushing in deeper and retreated to give you a tiny breather. He grunted and tried again, getting deeper this time.

“Too big,” you moaned, your eyes turning watery at the slow burn working its way through your midsection.

“I’ll make it fit, don’t worry,” he cooed. He dived back in, giving you shallow strokes. It became easier to take him with every downward stroke, and your thighs clenched around his hips.

He used his left hand to slide down your thigh, up your calf, and pull your foot to his face. He rubbed the mask against your foot, lifting your leg higher to sit against his chest. It opened you up further to him, allowing him to nearly reach the base inside you. He was close to bottoming out.

You were crying, whimpering, shivering on his dick as it throbbed the more it slid in and out of you. Terry’s moans rivaled yours. He threw his head back and sank in deeper.

“Oh, fuck, god, damn, fuck, shit,” you whimpered, out of breath and half delirious. The stretch was perfect. Stuffing you completely full of dick.

“That’s a good pussy. Taking what I’m giving you. Feel me in this pussy?” He asked.

“Yes, yes, I feel you,” you cried, tears gathering in your eyes once more. You were driven out of your mind. Body weightless, limitless, stretching your awareness beyond what you could sense. It was metaphysical. Like your soul found his and stitched you together the more he stroked deep inside.

Terry moved the knife up to your cheek. He pushed your face to the side, exposing your neck. He trailed the knife close to your neck. You clenched around him and he moaned, picking up the pace and ramming inside of you.

He fucked you like you had him fucked up. Like he missed you. Like you intentionally kept yourself away from him and he was back to stake his claim. To draw a line in the dirt and dare you to disobey.

“Oh, shit. Ouee, shit. Ouee, shit, fuck you feel so good,” you moaned.

“You look so pretty taking dick. Getting my dick fuckin’ creamy. Can’t stop staring at how much every time I pull out,” he said.

You lifted your hands, intending to push him away. You were close to another orgasm and it was coming too fast. Too fast for you to brace for.

“Move that hand or I will,” he huffed, harsh moans and panting making you sick with desire. Your pussy squelched from the pressure of him entering you.

You moved your hands, holding it above your head. “Ouee, fuck. That dick feels too good,” you whimpered.

“That’s all yours,” he said.

You tensed up, careening head first into the orgasm and crying out, screaming to the ceiling from the intensity. You flopped around on his dick like a fish out of water and Terry continued to fuck you through it, moving the knife when necessary when it appeard you’d get too close.

Terry withdrew and tossed the knife back on the bed. He gripped your hips and flipped you over, re-entering you and you screamed. He matched you with a moan. “Fuck. So fuckin’ good. So fuckin’ wet. Fuckin’ me getting you this wet?” Terry asked.

You nodded and stretched your hands above you. You arched your back, giving him full access to your ass. His large hand came down to smack your ass, causing it to sting with pain. You hissed, not expecting the bite of pain. You flooded his dick once more, fresh juices leaking out of you.

“Oh fuck! Terry! Please, no more,” you cried out. You didn’t have another one.

Terry leaned down, pressing his lips close to your ear. “Aww, you think I care. Come on pretty girl, move that ass. Come get yours,” he said.

You shook your head. You didn’t have enough to hold yourself up with. Each thrust sent you into the bed, fucking you into the matress with unrelenting speed. Your body flushed with heat, great licks of fire. Still, you managed to throw it back on him. Matching his thrusts.

“That’s it. Soak this dick, pretty. Bouncing pretty on this fuckin’ dick. Unf, fuck. Takin’ me very well. You takin’ what I’m giving you?” Terry moaned.

How did he expect you to answer him at the moment? Your mind was gone, down into another plane of existence. He gripped your ass cheeks and spread them. He lifted his right hand and then quickly pressed his wet digit against your asshole, pressing in. You fell forward and he followed you down. He continued to stroke, sliding in and out of you, punishing you with his dick whether you could keep up or not.

The pressure was new, weird, but oh so fucking good when he pressed in deeper. You felt full. Stuffed completely.

“Give me another one,” he commanded.

“Can’t,” you gasped, your face smooshed into the comforter.

Terry gripped your hair with his free hand and yanked, bending you at a weird angle. He didn’t care. “I’m gonna paint this fuckin’ pussy with this nut. But you’re going to give me another one first,” he said, voice low and scraping against your eardrums in the most pleasurable way.

He wiggled his finger in your ass and you moaned, tensed up, and screamed with your orgasm. Your eyes burned as you screamed, loudly, shaking uncontrollably on his dick. “There it is. Fuck you think you are making me wait?” He asked and yanked on your hair to the point of pain.

“Sorrrryyyyyy,” you moaned as you came and came. He fucked you through it, chasing his own pleasure in your body. Burying his dick to the hilt and unloading with a deep, powerful growl erupting from his thick chest.

His cum shot inside you like it was a race to get you pregnant then and there. Your brain turned fuzzy, eyes turning black in the corners and he came and came with seemingly no end in sight.

“That’y my good fuckin’ slut,” Terry growled low in your ear.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

Terry pumped his hips a few more times before withdrawing from your body. He stepped back to admire his handiwork. Your pussy clenched as you pushed his cum out. He encouraged you, telling you to try to work every drop out.

He flipped you back onto your back. He grabbed you by the silk rope still tied around your hands and pulled you to your feet with one bicep curl. You moaned. Fuck. You’d go another round if you were able. You needed him back inside. Your pussy was unbearably achy, twitchy, needy.

You whimpered and cried as he pushed you to your knees. “Open your mouth,” he ordered.

You opened, staring up at him. He dug his fingers into your hair, pulling you forward. He tapped his dick against your lips, painting it with a mix of his cum and your essence. He shoved his dick inside and moaned, throwing his head back while you sucked him off.

You braced your fingers around his long legs, dusted with hair. You held on as he face fucked you, feeding you his dick.

“Get it nice and clean,” he cooed, at complete odds with the way he shoved past your resistance. You moaned, turning watery eyes to him. His mask was frozen in fake sympathy. He tilted his head at you, thrusting along with fucking your mouth.

“Perfect. You’re perfect,” he moaned. You reached out and touched his balls. His hips jerked forward and you gagged, body rejecting him. “Fuuuck.” His moan tugged at your throbbing clit.

Saliva dribbled down the sides of your mouth, onto your chin, and dripped onto your titties still bouncing in the bra he cut through. You felt his cum leak out of your pussy, likely falling onto the floor.

“Pretty fuckin’ mess too. I’m finna bust. Swallow it,” he said.

You nodded on his dick. He thrust a handful more times before he burst in your mouth, stuffing more cum into your body. You swallowed it all, letting the sticky substance slide hungrily down your throat.

His hips stroked absently, like he couldn’t make himself stop even if he wanted to. He slowed down, pulling his dick past your lips slowly. You let him go with a wet pop. Terry cleaned the corners of your mouth with his fingers.

He dropped into a squat, as much as his pants would allow. He took off the mask letting you get a glimpse of that beautiful, sexy face of his. His eyes were narrowed, intense, focused as he smirked at you. He had permanent bedroom eyes. As if he were just waking up or just falling asleep. No in-between.

He smirked at you. “Ready for round two?”

The end.

Ya'll know I can't leave this man aloneeee. The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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aurumalatus · 2 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟑]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.6k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, cursing, mentions of abuse/alcoholism, character death and graphic descriptions of death, mentions of vomit

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. this one is... a lot. take heed of the warnings/let me know if there's something i forgot to tag! i might've missed some errors because it's late so i will fix in the morning, otherwise please enjoy! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗚𝗢

When the meadows grow full and lush, Kinich awaits your reappearance.

The winter had been long—with his crops iced over, he’d had to rely on hunting to survive. His mother’s absence had taken a heavy toll on his family (though he uses the word loosely), and his father somehow finds more time to drink his life away. Now the sole homemaker, Kinich finds himself as his father’s newfound punching bag as well.

He discovers that he has a talent for patching wounds and bruises.

Some days, the man awakens in the dead of night, freshly sober—Kinich can hear him crying his mother’s name in the dark. He doesn’t know whether to take that as regret, or simply loneliness.

They don’t talk. They never really did, but the silence grows quickly, curling and weaving and winding like vines through the house, until Kinich can feel it wrapping his throat shut. Days and weeks go by without him talking to anyone at all.

Still, he moves on.

The ice finally melts, and he welcomes the sight of animals returning from hibernation, despite how they nip at his garden. New life sprouts from the ground, and it’s only a matter of time before you appear in the forest again as well.

This time, you’re touting a burlap bag of Quenepa Berries, and you offer him one as he approaches.

“They’re sweeter at this time of year,” you comment, before popping one of the fruits into your mouth. He accepts and does the same—this batch is fattened and sweet, he thinks as the juice dribbles down his chin. You must have an eye for a good harvest.

“You came back,” is all he replies, as a greeting.

An incredulous expression crosses your face, almost judgmental—you hold the bag of berries away from him as teasing punishment. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

He reaches over you, quick as a fox, catching one of the fruits in his fingers.

“Don’t know.”

There’s no way to tell you about his mother’s disappearance, at least not one that he’s confident about. After all, he feels there’s no logic in informing you anyway—there’s no solution that you could potentially offer, and it’s not as though it affects you. But it’s the thought of that, and the lasting image of her footsteps, that had instilled this fear within him.

The fear that you would never return.

But you’re here, he soothes himself, another berry in your outstretched palm. He takes it, just as your voice rings out again.

“So, do your parents not like girls?”

The skin of the fruit catches in his throat at your question, and he lets out a series of wet coughs—you pat his back, eyes wide with concern. It takes a few moments for him to return to his senses.

“What are you talking about?” he splutters, uncharacteristically flustered.

You don’t seem to notice, too absorbed in picking through your bag—you prefer the lightest blue berries, the ones that are still slightly unripe. Perhaps you enjoy the tartness they offer.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “It just seems like you don’t want your parents to see me.”

And there’s no easy way to explain his situation, so he doesn’t. Instead, he hums, watching the birds soar by overhead. His heart vaguely tugs with jealousy at the sight of them.

“It’s not that. My parents just…don’t like people hanging around our house. That’s why we moved out of the village.”

Not a total lie, he reasons—the financial issues were the root cause, but his father had also grown tired of neighbors attempting to intervene in his parents’ endless disputes. It had given him hope, for a time, that someone might be able to remedy the situation.

But that hope was quickly snuffed out.

“Makes sense,” you say, tracing shapes in the dirt with your foot. You draw a heart, a smiley face, and then something that looks like a defective Yumkasaurus. “Your dad is the mean one, right?”

You’re still not quite educated on social faux-pas at your age, and Kinich almost chokes again.

“What?”

Something rustles in the bushes nearby—an animal scared away by the sudden loudness of his voice.

“He always used to yell at me when I’d come around to leave you things,” you explain, overwhelmingly casual. “Smelled like that stuff that us kids aren’t allowed to go near in the market.”

Kinich vaguely remembers hearing his parents argue about something like that, but all the fighting tends to blur together after a time. He’s not sure how to reply to that, or what you might think if he did.

So he doesn’t.

He asks you about your winter instead, a topic change that you welcome eagerly. You tell him about the village, the white-topped roofs and the way the Yumkasauri would redden and sneeze, whelps hiding in their mother’s wings. You tell him about how you tried ice skating on the frozen river, recounting how many times you fell flat on your face. The thought makes him smile faintly.

He’s almost surprised by how enthusiastic you are about it—you’d told him before about your parents’ death in the cold season. He wonders how you seem to move past it all.

You turn your attention back to him, curious. “What about you? What happened during your winter?”

There’s a lot he could say, but none of it feels right, every word sticking to his tongue, stubborn.

“The winter felt really long,” he finally says, mostly to himself, chewing thoughtfully.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “It did. But it’s not so bad, I think.”

He hums. “Really?”

You shrug. “Spring always comes again anyway.”

On Kinich’s seventh birthday, you knock at his door in the evening.

The November air is crisp, but not yet chilling. After all, the nation of Pyro tends to run warm until the very depths of winter. It’s for that reason that the fireplace still lies darkened and empty, and that the kitchen window is still open a crack.

The sound shocks him at first—it’s been a long time since anyone has visited at all, so much so that the dull thump is unfamiliar. Wilder animals tend to come out when the sun sets, so he tries to finish up his farming and hunting beforehand—at this time, he’s usually preparing some sort of meal for the next day.

He glances at the source of the noise, then at his father, slumped over the kitchen table, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. The man will likely be asleep until the early morning anyway.

So Kinich pads to the door, pulling it open just a crack, and it’s your eye that peers back at him, curious.

Another inch, and then the rest of you is revealed to him—you’re holding a neatly wrapped box in your hands, an innocent smile spread across your lips.

His first words come out in a hiss.

“What are you doing here?”

He thinks he’s been quite clear about your need to return to the village by this time, for many reasons. It’s growing dark, a time where animals and humans alike grow more dangerous, and his father tends to be home. The man has a talent of putting Kinich in the worst moods, and he’d rather not spread that to you.

“It’s your birthday,” you greet, as an explanation, shrugging like it’s all so obvious. Kinich tilts his head.

“So?”

“So, we’re celebrating! I spent the whole day baking this cake with Chief Wayna’s help.”

Kinich steps outside, quietly letting the door shut behind him. The sunset sky is burning away at this time, pinks and reds fading into black and blue. The stars will be out soon.

“It’s nighttime,” he says, crossing his arms.

You nod vigorously, undeterred. “Yup! All so you can see the candles better. It looks so much cooler when it’s dark.”

It’s a ridiculous statement to someone like him, and Kinich is once again reminded how different the two of you are. His sense of logic doesn’t seem to align with your enduring enthusiasm. Still, he likes the fire that you have about you, and has no interest in snuffing it out, so he merely sighs and leads you away from the front door.

Once you’re a bit away, the house still in view, he looks to you again.

“So, what is it about candles?”

Without a reply, you turn away from him, fiddling with various things—he hears a match being lit, sees the faint light reflect from behind you—and then you’re facing him again, proudly holding out the cake.

There’s seven brightly colored candles sticking out from the top. The candlelight illuminates your face with a soft glow, a cheeky smile spreading across your lips.

“It looks good, right?”

Kinich peers down at the treat—it does look good, with the expensive kind of frosting that he used to look at longingly in the market. He hasn’t had something this sweet, this luxurious, in a long time, or maybe ever. When he glances back up, you’re staring up at him expectantly—he shrinks back from the pressure.

“What is it?” he asks, feeling self-conscious. You point to the candles.

“You have to blow it out.”

Vaguely, he thinks back on when he used to live in the village. He’s seen people hold birthday parties before (though he can’t say he’d ever been invited), but he’s not sure he’s heard of this tradition. Birthday celebrations weren’t something his family could ever afford anyway, or maybe they just didn’t care to.

Kinich realizes he doesn’t even know when his parents’ birthdays are.

But you’re still watching him, so he pushes that thought aside. Instead, he leans over and gently blows out the candles in three small puffs of breath.

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” You cheer, tilting the cake toward him. “I hope you made a wish!”

You’d forgotten to mention that before he blew out the candles, he thinks to himself, but he’s in no position to argue with your good will anyway. So he nods, silently making a wish after the fact.

“Alright, the best part is eating it,” you whisper conspiratorially, like you’re sharing a life-shattering secret. “And Elder Leik says it’s bad to have sugar before bed, but I think it’s okay just this once—”

“Kinich!”

That voice—

His heart freezes in his chest. Your face morphs in confusion, and then he’s grasping at your arm and yanking, hiding you behind him—you’re not much smaller than him, though, so it’s a futile effort. At the force, the cake slips out of your grip, smashing uselessly into the grass.

Kinich has half a mind to apologize, but he can’t—instead, he holds you tighter.

“Kinich?” A hoarse voice echoes in the dark. “Where the hell are you?”

“I’m here. I was just taking a walk,” he replies. His voice shakes at the edges of each syllable—he hopes his father doesn’t notice.

Something crunches in the distance; it’s the sound of grass underfoot. His father is coming this way, Kinich realizes in a panic. He glances back to your fearful eyes, clutching at the back of his thin t-shirt, and his chest burns with the desire to protect.

It’s too dim to see the man until he’s a few feet in front of you—he’s dressed in a tattered shirt and loose pants, feet dragging through the grass. His eyes narrow when he gets close enough, brows knitting together.

His gaze zeroes in on you, venomous. “It’s you again.”

The collar of Kinich’s shirt grows taut against his throat as you pull against him, afraid. He squeezes at your arm once, a comfort.

“You damn orphans, got nothing better to do? Just fucking around on my property, I should throw you off this goddamn cliff! Not like you got anyone to miss you.”

Kinich grits his teeth. “Leave her alone.”

His father laughs, a grating sound like nails on a chalkboard, then belches. The smell of cheap alcohol filters through the air, even from a distance.

“Go do something useful then. Too many useless people in this world, ha! Just like your damn mother.”

The mention makes the blood ice over in Kinich’s veins, a sharp frost crawling up his spine. Your grip loosens just a hair, likely in confusion, but the detail barely reaches his mind.

“You know where she is?”

The image of his mother’s footsteps in the newly fallen snow had never left his mind—he sees it in his nightmares, trapped and crawling in an endless frozen landscape, alone. He thinks of her when he farms, when he weaves, when he’s forced to eat another Grainfruit.

He thinks of her always, maybe, in the back of his mind.

And his father does too, maybe, based on the way his whole body seems to tighten with anger at the question. He doesn’t reply, at least not verbally.

You watch, horrified. Even as his father’s eyes glow with rage, even as he drunkenly hobbles toward you both, hands outstretched.

(Kinich blankly notes that they form the shape of his own neck.)

The man isn’t too coordinated, especially with the alcohol coursing through his veins—he stumbles a few times on the way, the grass seeming to curl around his ankles, slowing him down. Perhaps it’s the land’s way of protecting him, Kinich thinks.

He grabs your hand, pulling you behind him. “Come on!”

Kinich runs, wind whipping at his face, the way he always does when his father gets this way. He takes you through the backyard, toward the forest, where his father might lose sight of you both and give up the chase. He knows the paths there and knows them well—the shadows of the trees will protect you both.

But the man is picking up speed behind you, roaring about what he’ll do once he catches you.

“Kinich,” you wheeze. You’d already been semi-exhausted by your trek here, and certainly not expecting a sprint like this.

“I know,” he pants back. “Just a little more.”

You’re trying your hardest, he knows.

But he’s faster than you, and you stumble, lagging behind.

“Kinich!”

His father lunges, fingers barely grasping at the leg of your pants. A shriek erupts from your throat as you tumble to the ground in a twisted pile, and Kinich cries out with you, just as the cliff seems to rumble beneath his feet.

It happens in slow motion.

Kinich’s father meets his son’s gaze, enraged, then afraid. Terrified, just as he feels his legs dangle over the edge of the cliff, just as the weight of your smaller body pushes his torso over. Shocked, just as the rest of you starts to come down with him.

Your screams echo off the darkened mountain.

Kinich weighs his options—it doesn’t take long—and then leaps forward. His chest smacks painfully into the dirt, but he manages to grab your wrist just as you slip down the cliff.

“Kinich!”

His father is screaming his name, and so are you, pleading, begging for his help. And you’re still in his grasp, but you’re slipping, and his father is reaching for him, and if he could just grab him with his other hand, he could maybe pull you both up, but—

Kinich’s gaze meets your tear-filled eyes.

So he grits his teeth, clawing at the dirt, and with his other hand, he grabs—

You.

He doesn’t have time to catch his father’s expression—he doesn’t think he’d want to see it anyway—before he’s hauling you up, yanking you into his arms until you’re both collapsing into the grass. The crown of your skull clashes with his chin harshly.

His father is still bellowing curses, not that you seem to hear it over the sound of your screams and cries. But Kinich hears it, somehow, floating above the chaos and agony in your voice.

“It’s your fucking fault! This is all your fault!”

His eyes flutter shut as the voice fades away, and then grows silent.

It’s too quiet.

Even the crickets seem to censor themselves, hiding from the entire ordeal. Kinich releases his hold on you, rolling onto his stomach, then onto his knees. The grass seems to waver under his stare, rippling and oscillating until it feels like the entire world is quivering beneath him.

He barely registers that you’re struggling to pull yourself upright behind him.

You turn away from Kinich’s hunched form to vomit in the grass, overwhelmed by it all. A corpse lies at the foot of the cliff now, one that could’ve just as easily been you. One that might have actually been your fault. The thought makes you vomit again.

After a few more dry heaves, Kinich’s hand rubs at your back, the other gently easing your hair away from your mouth. You look over your shoulder at him, eyes filled with tears and nose dripping with snot.

“Kinich,” you sob, trying to catch your breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was too slow, and he—he fell. I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. I know he wasn’t—I don’t—but that was your—your father—”

He takes you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him—really look at him. His expression seems the same as always, but you know the difference. You note the quivering at the edge of his lips, the light sheen at the corners of his eyes. It disappears as quickly as you notice it, flattening under a disposition of stone.

“I weighed the value between you,” he says, gaze meeting your glassy stare. Your heart flutters. “And I chose you.”

And for a bit, you pretend that you can’t hear the thick lump in his throat, or the way his nose scrunches to keep the tears from slipping. Instead, you take his hand, struggling to your feet.

Kinich gives you a once-over—your pant leg is tattered now, a long strip of fabric ripped from the bottom. A flash of crimson peeks from under the remaining cloth.

Thin lines of blood bloom over the joint there, slowly running down the length of your leg.

“You’re bleeding,” he rasps, assessing the extent of your wound. It’s not deep—a skinned knee at most, which he’s grateful for. He’s treated much worse on his own body.

There’s so much to do, he thinks, pushing through the foggy haze permeating his mind. He has to retrieve his father’s body. He has to treat your wound. With his father gone, he needs to make a plan for his own survival.

It’s not as if his father ever really helped out anyway, but the thought of being truly, totally alone is harrowing. It takes another minute for him to remember that you’re still standing at his side.

“Go back to the house,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “Wait for me in the kitchen—”

“No!” You blurt, looking surprised despite yourself. Kinich jolts, meeting your eyes. “You’re going to get his body, right?”

After a moment of hesitation, he nods solemnly.

Kinich has looked down these cliffs many times; he knows the sheer height of them. There’s absolutely no chance that his father’s body is in any sort of good shape at the bottom. The thought makes bile rise in his throat.

You swallow. “So let’s go.”

The fear is reflected in the way your hands shake, but your shoulders straighten and you reach for him, slotting your fingers together. It’s the most bravery that you can manage, at least right now. Kinich accepts it gratefully.

Making your way down the cliff is treacherous with the little light you have. You don’t speak, barely even breathe. The stars lay watchful above, winking and illuminating your way.

Even with your hand in his, Kinich glances back occasionally, ensuring you’re still with him—you always are, still sniffling and scrubbing at your eyes.

It’s hard for you, and it’s obvious; he has to catch you several times when your foot slips off the stone, but you’re still with him. You’re still with him, he thinks. Kinich repeats it to himself a few times, letting it anchor him as he struggles down the rocks.

His father’s body is stiff by the time you reach it.

You’re too afraid to look at first, meekly standing behind him. It takes a few minutes before you work up the courage to peek over his shoulder, one hand over your mouth. Kinich isn’t sure whether to pray, or cry, or leave it all behind—for a few minutes, he doesn’t do anything at all.

The body is mangled, as he’d expected. You don’t dare to look at it again; you pace about the area, trying to keep your wits about you.

Everything about it is too familiar. He sees himself in the corpse, the blond hair fanned around the head like a halo, the golden eyes forever stuck in a faraway stare. The grappling hook that he always kept on his person.

His father. A half of him. His flesh and blood.

And he’d let him go.

Kinich feels for his own heartbeat over his shirt, fisting at the cloth there.

You are still alive, it whispers.

So he calls your name, soft. You peek at him through the darkness.

“We have to bring it back,” he murmurs.

And you, despite it all, despite the terror that licks hot up your neck, simply nod.

“Okay.”

As the two of you drag the corpse back toward the house, fingertips sticky with blood that freezes in the passing wind, Kinich realizes it—

This is the coldest November he’s ever experienced.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kinich x reader #genshin impact #kinich #genshin impact imagines #kinich x you #adeptus ink #tw death #tw vomit #tw abuse

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bamfkeeper · 2 months ago

Text

Choke.

RQ: 'I can't remember if I put this in or not so ignore this if I did, but PLSSSS that Kurt choking drabble w/ his tail that another asker suggested...... I beg of you 💙 I read your work non-stop it's SO good' - @citiirose

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+ | Tail play, choking, unprotected sex, slight dirty talk

A/N: Hehe I'm happy to deliver <3 This is a little drabble so it's shorter than a regular fic, but ugh it was fun to do. He'd be so cheeky about this. I know not everyone likes WatXM Kurt, but I like the tail wiggle in the gif sooo. I always choose pics/versions I think match the scenario. BUT you imagine whichever one you want! Unedited ;; WC: 1.3k

Kurt was well aware of your fondness for his tail, and the mischievous German never missed an opportunity to tease you with its gentle spade. He would utilize it in various, tantalizing ways, each designed to heighten your senses and stir your desires in inappropriate situations. He would trace delicate patterns along your sides, sending shivers down your spine.

Or he would allow it to graze ever so lightly between your legs, igniting that dark spark of anticipation within you. And if he was feeling particularly cheeky, he would playfully tap it against your ass, eliciting a soft sound from your lips.

Given his penchant for incorporating his tail into his flirtatious repertoire, it was no surprise when Kurt decided to explore its potential in more intimate settings. The bedroom became a new playground.

He buried himself into you, balls slapping your ass as he thrusted into you. His hips moved in swift, rhythmic motions as his hands firmly grasped your form, his fuzzy chest pressing against the smooth expanse of your bare back. Kurt's lips found their way to your ear, whispering an array of sweet nothings, his voice thick with his distinctive accent and growing increasingly breathy as he exerted himself, his impressive stamina never failed him.

Your body responded instinctively to him, gentle moans escaping your lips and increasing with every thrust he delivered. These sounds of pleasure were effortlessly drawn out by his expert touch, he knew how to play you like an instrument he mastered. Between ragged breaths, you managed to speak, your voice heavy with desire. "Oh, Kurt... you feel so good..." The words tumbled from your lips as your body unconsciously pressed further into his embrace.

He grinned and exposed his fangs, his tail slowly snaking up your body with deliberate, teasing movements. The flexible appendage traced delicate patterns across your skin, your body tried to lean into it as it snaked around you. He gradually encircled your neck, the warm, velveteen texture felt delicious on your heated flesh.

As he applied a gentle pressure, you felt your pulse quicken, the sensation of his tail wrapped around your throat igniting a primal response within you. Your core throbbed with an intensity that surprised even you, each subtle squeeze sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The light constriction began to affect your senses, creating a heady mix of arousal and lightheadedness that was intoxicating.

The slight restriction of blood flow induced a euphoric buzz, your mind growing pleasantly hazy as your other senses seemed to sharpen in response. Every touch, every breath, every subtle movement became magnified, your nerve endings singing with heightened sensitivity. It was as if Kurt had unlocked a new realm of sensory experience, one that teetered exquisitely on the edge of danger and ecstasy. You played with your senses during sex before, since his body held such a unique texture, but this…was completely new and hot.

A breathy, desperate mewl seemed to come from the very depths of your being, escaping your lips and making his pointed ears prick up. Your body moved of its own accord, pressing back against Kurt with an urgency that surprised even you. The friction between your bodies only served to stoke the flames of your desire higher.

"Kurt..." you gasped, your voice thick with need and raw emotion. "Yes, yes!" The words tumbled from your lips in a frenzied litany, each syllable dripping with unbridled arousal. "Kurt..." you moaned again, your inhibitions crumbling in the face of overwhelming pleasure as you tried to convey your desires without getting lost. "Squeeze harder!" The plea erupted from you, a passionate demand born of pure, unadulterated want. Your voice was usually so controlled, but now it quivered with the intensity of your arousal.

He blinked, his eyes widening in surprise at your passionate reaction to being choked with his tail, exhilaration coursed through him as he processed your unexpected enthusiasm. After a moment of stunned silence, Kurt's lips curved into a devilish grin, his golden eyes gleaming with newfound intrigue.

Chuckling softly, he decided to indulge your apparent desire, carefully tightening his tail ever so slightly around your neck. The pressure increased just enough to be noticeable, but remained far from causing any actual harm or discomfort. The spade slowly squirmed its way past your lips, laying on your tongue as he felt your saliva gather and drool out past your lips. Kurt's voice dropped to a low, husky whisper as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Ach, you like this, liebling? Well, well...you are quite the naughty little thing, aren't you? I must admit, I didn't realize you'd derive such pleasure from having mein tail curled around your neck like this..." His words were laced with a mixture of amusement and growing arousal, his hips snapped into you faster, his cock felt like it was throbbing inside you. Precum pooling inside you, coating your inner walls as he edged you to feeling his load to come.

You let out open, unrestrained moans as his spade pressed firmly against your tongue, your mouth remained slightly agape, a mix of pleasure and anticipation evident in your expression. Your hips were driven by intense desire, pressed back eagerly into his with each thrust delivered, seeking more contact, more friction. Meanwhile his tail continued to gently coil around your neck, adding another layer of sensation to the already intense experience.

He expertly manipulated the pressure, applying more force for several tantalizing seconds before loosening his grip, only to repeat the process again and again. This rhythmic pulsing sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, each cycle building upon the last, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. You felt your face grow hot when he increased the pressure and lessened the blood flow, it was so damn good.

"Squeeze harder, I can take it, goddamnit…please Kurt, don’t fucking trade me anymore!" you begged, the words tumbled from your lips without thought or hesitation. You found yourself in a state of arousal unlike anything you had experienced before, the intensity of your desire catching you off guard. You couldn't pinpoint the exact source of this overwhelming horniness, nor could you fully comprehend why you were acting so desperate and wanton. Kurt hadn’t really choked you before, besides a light touch to your neck with his hand. Was it really just his tail that was making you feel this way?

All rational thought had been pushed aside, replaced by a singular, all-consuming need. In this moment, all you wanted, all you could focus on, was the burning desire to reach your climax, to feel that sweet release that seemed so close yet frustratingly out of reach.

Your desperate plea was abruptly muffled as his spade-tipped tail pushed deeper into your mouth, effectively silencing your words. You emitted a stifled sound in response; while it didn't obstruct your breathing, it successfully prevented you from articulating further demands.

"Such a vulgar tongue..." Kurt growled, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. His voice dropped to a menacing whisper as he nipped at your earlobe with his razor-sharp teeth. "Perhaps I need to teach you in the art of proper etiquette, liebe?" The term of endearment contrasted sharply with the dark promise in his tone. "Your release will come only when you've mastered the skill of asking politely...without that filthy language."

His prehensile tail constricted further around your neck, the pressure intensifying to an almost unbearable degree. The sensation was overwhelming, causing your eyes to roll back in your head as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. Your sex throbbed and twitched, desperate and threatening to cum just from the feeling of his tail choking you. Kurt maintained his relentless rhythm, each powerful thrust driving his cock as deep as it could go and guiding you closer to the edge of ecstasy while denying you the final push you so desperately craved.

“Now…let’s see how long you last.”

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner x you #kurt wagner smut #nightcrawler x you #nightcrawler smut #x men #xmen #x men 97 #🎠my works

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daistea · 6 months ago

Note

I need to make that man jealous. I need to see him riled up. I need to see him lose his cool. I need to be the center of his focus. Kicking my feet, twirling the phone cord, rolling over in bed, giggling, like "What do you think he'd do to me if he found out?"

I got u. rubs my filthy trash hands together

3,700ish words

tw violence, mildly unhealthy relationship dynamics, language, slightly suggestive, Fleki

gn reader x mithrun, established relationship

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

There are layers to Mithrun’s possessiveness.

Layer 1: Caution

You looked nice. Too nice. While Mithrun had a habit of staring, he never gawked. To gawk would imply a certain sort of pathetic desperation. Mithrun was desperate for you, but not pathetically so.

How you looked at that moment was gawk-worthy, though. He only tilted his head, gaze roaming over your body as you leaned on the dining table, organizing your belongings. Your legs, your hair, your chest, your arms, your shoulders, your back, your—

It wasn’t acceptable.

“You’re going to Cithis’s house, you said?” Mithrun asked. His voice was level, even, with no betrayal towards the slowly growing flame burning within him.

You nodded and sent him a smile, “Yeah. Did you change your mind about coming?”

Yes? No. Mithrun felt himself tense, “I’ll think about it.”

He had zero interest in a party. He had zero interest in drinking and listening to people chatter all night. What he was interested in, though, was keeping an eye on you.

Mithrun’s fist clenched. He dug his nails into his palm, causing a light sting to run through his nerves. You dressed like that for this party? He trusted you to behave, but he didn’t trust anybody else. The thought of people looking at you, their eyes raking down you; the thought of others desiring you… It filled him with a taut, vibrating anger. He was a rope pulled too tightly, about to snap.

Mithrun was definitely going to that party, and he’d stay by your side the entire time. With his arms around you and his gaze roaming the room, nobody would dare bother you.

He won’t get into fights, usually, he won’t be dramatic or loud, but you know when he’s feeling possessive. He gets a dark look in his eye, he holds you tightly, he watches people like a wolf stalking a rabbit. His expression and vibes are usually enough to scare away potential threats.

Mithrun isn’t jealous out of insecurity. He’s jealous because you’re one of his few desires and he refuses to lose you to anyone. Simple.

He’s very shameless about it.

The next layer to his jealousy/possessiveness is slightly more intense, though, and a bit more rare.

Layer 2: Enter At Your Own Risk

The streets of Melini were more crowded as of late. New people had come to check out the nation, and it made shopping for simple groceries difficult.

You’d given Mithrun the task of locating the vegetable stand. He went without question, doing as you asked and slipping through the sea of bodies. With a moment to yourself, you hitched your woven basket into the crook of your elbow and inspected the fabrics stall. The little house you shared with Mithrun needed new curtains.

You ran a finger over a certain fabric, admiring the weave pattern. Yet, a shadow cast itself over the stall and a sudden presence to your right stole away your attention.

“Hey,” a man said. You looked up to meet his eyes. He was just a guy, perhaps his smile was a little too confident, but he seemed relatively normal. “You wanna know what material I’m wearing?”

Not particularly. But before you could reply, the man continued, “It’s called boyfriend material. Wanna touch?”

That had to be the worst pick up line you’d ever heard. Should you even dignify it with a response? You felt your expression twist into one of disgust without realizing it. And the man tensed as he noticed his lack of success.

“Let me try again!” He pleaded, “I promise, I’m a nice guy, I just wanted to make you laugh. I saw you from across the street and I think you’re beautiful. I couldn’t not talk to you, you know? I just had—“

You didn’t hear the rest of his words. Your focus immediately turned to the approaching storm. It was like watching dark clouds roll in, hearing thunder shake the world.

Mithrun lifted his chin a little. He clenched his fist. In his other arm were several potatoes, exactly what you asked him to get. The breeze ruffled his hair. It was the worst kind of anger in his eye, the calm kind. Mithrun’s head was clear. He knew precisely what he was doing.

Slowly, you shook your head, shooting him a warning look.

Mithrun ignored you.

He stalked closer as his good eye narrowed. His nose wrinkled just a little, betraying his fury. His shoulders were tense and his knuckles were white as he picked up and potato and—

“No!” You commanded. Mithrun froze, obeying you, but he didn’t look happy about it. The flirty guy also froze with wide eyes.

“No?” The guy asked.

“Not you,” you hissed, then pointed at Mithrun who stood behind the guy, a potato in his hand and only inches away from the guy's back. “Mithrun, I swear to god, if you use your teleporting magic to switch out someone’s literal beating heart with a potato again, I’m making you sleep outside tonight.”

Mithrun was pissed. But he knew you meant it. He turned his gaze onto you, challenging you, daring you to stop him. You maintained eye contact, refusing to back down. He could not brutalize the people of Melini just because they thought you were pretty. The guy was annoying, but innocent.

Finally, Mithrun’s jaw clenched, but he backed down. He lowered the potato of death and took a step away. The flirty guy was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

Mithrun nodded his head to the left, “Go.”

“Yes sir!” The man said before scurrying away.

You knew your boyfriend was going to spend the next few hours a bit grumpy, a bit clingy and touchy, but… You actually didn’t mind that. It sent a thrill, a heat, up your spine.

He’ll calm down in a bit. It’s just offensive that someone would even try to take you.

Of course, you remind him that that’s unreasonable. That guy had no idea you were already in a relationship.

Mithrun does not give a damn about reason and logic right now.

He can be a little scary. It’s nice…

Level 4: The Danger Zone

Due to being a loyal partner, purposefully making Mithrun jealous was not on your agenda. He would never do that to you, you’d never do that to him. It was cut and dry. Simple.

Except, an old friend of yours was visiting Melini and had sent you a letter to announce his arrival. The handwriting on the letter was familiar, filling you with warm nostalgia. You hadn’t realized that you were smiling at his sweet words until Mithrun’s voice tore you from your thoughts.

“Are they announcing another sale at the bakery?” He asked. It almost didn’t sound like a question with how flat his tone was.

You looked up to see him in the kitchen nearby, his back to you as he slowly chopped at a green onion. His hair was pulled into a stubby ponytail, but locks of white still fell around his cheeks. You swore, sometimes that elf had eyes in the back of his head.

“You think I’d be smiling like this at a sale announcement?” You asked dryly.

“Yes, actually.”

He was right. You hated it when he was right.

You always told Mithrun the truth, there were no secrets on your end. Mithrun, of course, had his little secrets that you would eventually discover. Like the time you desperately wanted a very pretty coat in the store, but someone else had already bought it, and Mithrun had Cithis brainwash the buyer into giving it to you. For months, you wore that coat thinking ‘wow how nice that they just gave it to me!’

Or the time the sequel to one of your favorite books was delayed. And Mithrun disappeared for two days without notice, then came back with an unbound manuscript of the book. You asked how he got it, he said he ‘knows a guy.’ In reality, he broke into the author’s house and stole the manuscript.

The man was dedicated, you could give him that.

Yet he kept secrets. Mithrun’s moral compass didn’t always point North and he didn’t care enough to fix it. You thought it was cute half the time, other times it caused a bit of trouble. In the case of your old friend, it would only cause trouble.

So, for once, you decided to keep a secret.

“No, it’s actually a sale at the butcher’s,” you lied, “buy one get one free on pork.”

Mithrun hummed in thought, “We could stock up and do a special on pork ramen.”

“We could do that, yeah.”

You hated lying. Now you had to somehow acquire an obscene amount of pork for the shop.

You decided to tackle that challenge later. For now, your friend would be arriving soon, and you had to figure out how to meet him without raising suspicion.

No matter how hard you try, suspicion rises like the tide.

Mithrun isn’t paranoid about what you do in your time away from him. He has the tendency to be a bit codependent, but resists that urge (Kabru told him it was unfair to both of you to put all of his happiness on your shoulders. He begrudgingly agreed. Stupid Kabru and his stupid emotional intelligence.)

So, you go to do your thing. Whatever. He busies himself with one of his weird little hobbies, but Mithrun has a certain instinct for trouble. Something inside of him is telling him to beware, making him antsy. He doesn’t like these new feelings brought on by having a desire for you. It makes his knee bounce and his fingers restless.

He looks at the fireplace. In the hearth, there’s the corner of a piece of parchment. Why was there parchment in the fireplace? Were you burning papers? Letters?

You were smiling so sweetly at the mail earlier…

He’s up and stalking across the house within seconds, out the door and into the streets of Melini.

Perhaps you were too trusting. Perhaps you were naive. Perhaps you were stupid.

Ages ago, this particular old friend asked to marry you. You refused, of course, because you weren’t ready to get married and you didn’t feel that way about him. He asked again. And again. And again. It was annoying, but you decided to stay his friend because of your history together.

Now that you had taken a moment to look back on said history, you realized…

This old friend had been trying to court you for years.

“I heard you have a partner,” your friend said. His smile was tight and the grip on his utensil was even tighter.

You forced a smile, “Yeah. Mithrun. He’s great.”

“Tell me about him.”

Where to start with Mithrun? It was a safe subject, at least. Your old friend knew about your relationship and would hopefully respect it.

“Well, he’s—”

Your friend interrupted, “Is he handsome?”

Odd, but not unexpected. You nodded, “Yeah, I mean, he’s an elf so I don’t know if handsome is the right word. More like absurdly beautiful.”

Friend tensed in his chair. You saw his shoulders roll as if he was preparing himself for a fight. “Cool. Cool. Is he funny? Does he make you smile? Does he kiss good?”

You were definitely too trusting and naive.

“Yes to all?”

“Is he good in bed?”

Your hands shot up as if you could physically repel the questions, “I don’t really want to talk about that.”

“You don’t want to talk about your boyfriend?” Friend asked, his eyes widening, “I thought you loved him. Is there perhaps trouble in paradise? You know you can always vent to me about it. I’m a shoulder to cry on.”

Had your friend always been like this? Surely not. You had good times together. There was that one time he made you laugh so hard you choked on water and he got so scared that he gave you the heimlich. Sure, his hands weren’t in the right place for the heimlich, instead landing on your chest, but—

Oh Lord. He’s always been this bad.

With your food uneaten and a churning in your stomach, you began to stand up from your seat. “I don’t think this was a good idea, honestly.”

His eyes widened again, “Really? I think it’s a great idea. I came all the way to Melini to see you!”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. Listen, our lives have changed and I’m with Mithrun now and—”

Friend shot out of his seat, rounding the edge of the table before you could back away. His face was desperate and he was already breathing heavily. Nearby, the welcome bell rang as someone stepped into the cafe, but the usually pleasant noise was muffled to your ears. Friend put his hands where they didn’t belong, on your waist. That was Mithrun’s spot, that’s where Mithrun's hands went. He yanked you close and dread filled your chest.

This couldn’t be happening.

His lips were on yours. You tried to pull away, your eyes squeezing shut. His grip was strong and your mind was racing with panic. Your hands landed on his chest to push him back and—

He ripped himself away. Or, rather, he didn’t rip himself, but he was ripped, like a yanked-off bandage. You opened your eyes to see Mithrun, and relief instantly flooded your system.

But the calming, warm waters of your relief drained as you noticed the look on Mithrun’s face. He was naturally rather blank most of the time, yet at the moment, his good eye was narrowed, his mouth twisted into a scowl. He held your friend by his hair, ignoring the complaints and pleas and insults from the man. Without warning, Mithrun yanked on the man’s hair and began dragging him through the restaurant. It didn’t matter if your friend was bigger than your boyfriend, Mithrun had more strength and determination and sheer will to kick his ass.

People gasped and watched with wide eyes. Someone panicked. Waiters and workers approached slowly. Yet, the situation resolved itself. Mithrun pushed the door open, the bell rang cheerily, and he yanked your struggling ‘friend’ out into the street.

Your heart clenched. It felt as if someone had wrapped their cold fingers around your organs and squeezed. Your legs moved before you could give it a second thought, and you were out the door and chasing down your boyfriend instantly.

Mithrun had dragged the man into a nearby alleyway and thrown him against the wall. Your ‘friend’ was on the ground, hands coming up to hold his aching head. Mithrun knelt down to wrap his fingers around his neck and—

“Stop right this instant!” You yelled.

He froze, his eye widening. His hair was a mess and his pupils small with focus. Slowly, he stood up straight, taut like a bowstring being pulled. “Why?”

“Because I said so!” Your throat hurt from how desperately you’d yelled.

“That’s not a very good reason," he retorted through clenched teeth.

“Mithrun,” you seethed, “You cannot just grab people by their hair and drag them around.”

His expression darkened, “He kissed you. Against your will, I’m presuming.”

“Of course it was against my will!” You couldn’t help but wave your arms, a little manic and all-too-aware of the gathering crowd in the street behind you. “But that doesn’t mean you can brutalize him!”

Mithrun tilted his head and looked at you as if you were a child spouting nonsense. “Of course it does.”

“Make him pee his pants!” Someone yelled from the crowd.

“Pee his pants!” Someone else repeated.

“Pee! Pee! Pee!”

“Alright,” Mithrun agreed and turned his attention back to your ‘friend’, who was looking around as if he couldn’t believe what he’d been dragged into, terrified and shivering slightly.

“Do not make him pee his pants,” you commanded, “I swear to the Gods I will—”

“Twist his dick!” Someone yelled.

Since when did the people of Melini get so violent? You glanced over your shoulder only to see that Fleki had arrived and was encouraging the act of dick twisting. Of course.

“The ol’ dick twist!” She yelled again.

Enough. That would’ve made you crack up under any other circumstances, but frankly you had no desire to see your boyfriend twist another man’s dick. Mithrun, being himself, was already kneeling down with the intent of twisting. You stomped up to him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and yanked him away. He allowed it, only making a light noise of surprise and stumbling after you.

The further you pulled him, the less you could hear of the crowd. They expressed their disappointment, but seemed to be dispersing, unwilling to follow you and Mithrun into the darker parts of the alleyway. You rounded the corner of a building and noted that it was filled with crates and relatively clean. A perfect place to have a fight with one’s partner.

Mithrun read your mind. He straightened up and pulled from your grip, then folded his arms over his chest and glared--- which wasn’t very different from his usual expression if not for the slight narrowing of his good eye and the hard set of his jaw.

You returned the look. Unwilling to back down, you met his ink-black gaze and lifted your chin.

The air thickened. It felt as if your blood had started to thrum, to vibrate within your veins. A rock lodged itself in your throat as you forced yourself to hold the gaze. No backing down. You refused. It had been a horrible day so far and Mithrun’s murderous intent did not make it any better.

(That was a lie.)

(You didn’t want to acknowledge it, but you wanted him so badly.)

Eventually, Mithrun broke the silence, a rare act on his part in these kinds of situations. “Don’t tell me you actually care about him.”

Your blood thrummed a little higher and you felt a heat rise within your stomach, though whether that heat was from pleasure or anger you weren’t quite sure. “He was my friend at some point, though I’m not sure why. The problem here is moreso that you can’t drag people around by their hair and attack them.”

“He kissed you,” Mithrun hissed through grit teeth.

“And that sucked, honestly,” you admitted, “but he’s just a pathetic loser.”

“Is this the same guy that’s been in love with you for years?”

You blinked in surprise, “What? I’ve only recently figured that out. How did you know?”

His gaze flattened, “Every story you’ve told me about him gave it away.” Of course. Your cheeks felt warm and you did your best to avoid his quickly intensifying stare. When you had no response, Mithrun continued, “Why did you hide from me that he was coming to visit? Did you like that he kissed you?”

An unpleasant flash of horror crossed through your chest and you gasped, “Of course not!”

Did he even need to ask that? It was absurd. Yet, Mithrun took one slow step toward you. It was the calculated approach of a wild animal on the hunt. Without realizing it, you took one step back.

Another step forward, and you backed up. Two seconds later, your back hit the wall and Mithrun uncrossed his arms. He pressed his palms flat against the brick on either side of your head.

“I think,” his voice lowered, “that you subconsciously knew he wanted you, that you’ve always known, and that I would be angry at you going to meet him.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Heat flared in your lower abdomen and you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. He was so close and you were so weak.

“Why would I do that?” You managed to ask, though your voice was strained.

“Exactly,” Mithrun said, gravel in his tone. “Why would you do that?”

Curses ran through your mind. The one time you keep a secret from Mithrun, and it ends like this. You’re never doing that again.

One of his hands left the wall and instead trailed up your waist, slow and savoring. His good eye flickered down to your neck and you had the urge to tilt your head as if to offer him a bite. The thought of him sinking his teeth into you, his body pressed against yours… You were on fire.

Perhaps you might do this again, on occasion. It could be fun.

The brick wall was cold on your back. Mithrun’s stare was colder. He leaned in, holding himself up against the wall with one hand, his other hand digging into your hips as if he wanted to sink his fingers through your skin and grip your bones. Harshly, he yanked you closer as his lips crashed against yours. He might’ve drawn a little blood with his teeth. You might’ve had the urge to melt into him. Your legs might’ve almost given out if he hadn’t held you up.

The heat was consuming. Mithrun’s touch was rough, his kiss hard and laced with the intent to prove a very important point. Every inch of his being was focused on you in that moment. Every ounce of him was yours, and he was determined to prove that you were his in return. He broke the kiss but wasted no time in attacking your neck, hot breath fanning over your skin, teeth and lips scraping down the length and to the curvature where it was most sensitive. As you made an involuntary noise, his grip only tightened.

And there it was, what you’d been waiting for. He sunk his teeth in. Heat pulsed through your body and you couldn’t help but gasp. You felt what might’ve been his lips upturning into a little smile against your neck.

But Mithrun suddenly pulled away and blinked, and stared, and let out a soft exhale. The heat died like water dousing a flame. You stared back. He didn’t look ruffled in the least. His cheeks were pale as always, his eyes dull. The only sign that you’d been kissing was the light sheen on his lips. Meanwhile, you were a complete mess. You could only guess how you looked at that moment. Judging by how his eye flickered up and down your body, it was probably a sight.

Mithrun pulled back. He stood up straight and walked away casually.

“Where–” the words lodged in your throat and you had to force them out, “Where’re you going?”

He raised a hand as he walked, “The butcher actually is having a sale on pork. I need to get some before he closes.”

Without him to hold you up, you slowly sunk to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest.

No more secrets, you decided, feeling especially dead inside as you stared at a nearby crate. No more secret keeping.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

#dfjksdjklfjdkl #mithrun #mithrun of the house of kerensil #dungeon meshi #asks #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #mithrun x reader #dungeon meshi headcanons #dungeon meshi x reader #reader insert #x reader #jealousy

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felinecyan · 4 months ago

Text

Trust Issues

[Katsuki Bakugo x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Some friendly advice: don’t ever go to the rival of your spar partner for help.

WC: 4893

Category: Fluff, Slight Angst,

This blog is a MHA fan page at this point HAHAHA

But since you guys REALLY liked the first oneshot of him, I felt inclined to write another one. So, here you go! 💞

『••✎••』

You didn’t think it would come to this.

In all honesty, you had never intended to hurt your friend.

All you had wanted was a fair fight. After all, that was why you were training, wasn't it?

So you could become a hero?

Now, granted, it was not a secret that Izuku Midoriya had always been on the… opposing end of Katsuki Bakugo's wrath ever since childhood. The boy was a spitfire; you had known that from the moment he had first stepped into class.

The Sports Festival only proved it. He was strong, powerful, and unafraid to let anyone who stood in his way know. It was that sort of determination that you had hoped to one day achieve, the will to succeed and not allow anything to hold you back.

It wasn't that you were star-struck or even jealous when he had been crowned first place at the festival. It was just inspiring, in a sense. He had fought tooth and nail to win, and in the end, he had come out on top.

However, his victory did not mean he could rest easy.

After the Sports Festival, Bakugo had taken a sort of… interest in you. You supposed he liked the way he fought against you, or maybe it was because he saw potential in you as a rival, but when class was over the next day, and the blonde had approached you, telling you to meet him out back, you were overjoyed.

Until he started to beat the ever-living crap out of you, that is.

And he still was, even now.

Every time you believe to be gaining more and more strength, he only proves to have become stronger. It was quite disheartening, actually.

Still, you did your best to keep up with him. It was no surprise to you, though, that he was better at you in almost everything.

That's why it seemed like a great idea for you to start sparring with Deku, right? Maybe the green-haired could teach you a few things and help you gain a bit of an advantage over the hothead.

But, as pure intentions would have it, the choice you made that day had landed you here.

You were at your locker, picking up books for Aizawa’s lesson when a hand rested atop the door of your locker. He didn’t close it, only using it as a resting place for his arm, so you didn't immediately look up to see him, instead pretending that you hadn't noticed him.

"Hey,"

Not a voice you were familiar with. You glanced around the area before looking over at the source—a tall boy with short black hair and dark brown eyes.

You blinked a couple of times. "Hi…?"

He flashed a grin and leaned a bit closer to you, his voice dropping low. "Nice weather we're having, don't you think?"

"Uhm… sure, I guess." The confusion was obvious on your face, and he laughed at your expression. "It's nice, yeah."

"Well, the weather seems a lot nicer on the roof, I think." His words were slow, and his smile was growing a bit too much for you to be comfortable with. "I could take you there, show you the view. What do you—"

He was caught off by the large hand that suddenly slammed down on the top of your locker, shutting it. You were about to tell the person that the door had hit your head when you looked up at those glaring crimson eyes and felt your stomach drop.

Katsuki Bakugo.

"Hey, what the hell?!" The boy exclaimed. "What's the big deal?!"

Bakugo didn't seem to acknowledge the other, simply glaring down at you only. You were frozen in place. You had never seen the boy this angry, not even at the USJ attack.

"You." His voice was quiet, unnervingly calm, but the undertone was filled with enough venom to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. "You lied."

"Uh—" You began but were cut off.

"You told me you had to bail yesterday. That you had homework to do." He was staring right through you, and you felt a cold shiver run down your spine.

You swallowed, and his eyes flickered to your throat for a split second. "I did, though."

"You didn't," He hissed, teeth gritting together. "You were with him."

"With who—"

You had no chance to react before he slammed his fist against the lockers again, right beside your face, and the boy who had been trying to talk to you only watched as you were cornered.

"Don't lie to me, damnit!" He was snarling, eyes alight with fury. His hand moved from the lockers and back to his side. "You were with that shitty nerd. Don't you fucking deny it."

"I—" You tried, but your voice was shaking, and he interrupted you before you could say anything.

"Do you think I'm a fucking idiot?" He leaned down to your level, his red eyes burning into yours. "Do you really think I wouldn't find out about your little play date with Deku?"

"Play date?" Your eyebrows furrowed. "I was just training, Bakugo. It's not that big a deal."

He scoffed, pulling his hands into his pockets. The rage was still in his eyes, but he didn't appear to want to act on it, instead turning his head to the side.

And despite it not being a good time, the dude beside you was still here, and he had a comment.

"Hey, I was here first, dude." He said, stepping forward. "It’s clear you two have a problem, but this chick isn’t yours. Beat it."

You were honestly expecting Bakugo to explode on him, maybe even punch the guy. He was always so aggressive.

Instead, he simply stared at him for a long moment, blinking at his audacity, only to roll his eyes and turn back to you.

"If you think Deku can help you, then go ahead." He shrugged, taking a step back. "We’ll see how good his teaching is if it can get you to stand a chance against me."

"You think—"

He interrupted you, not even giving you the chance to finish.

"Five o’clock, gymnasium." He smirked, but his eyes were hard. "Don't make me wait."

"But, you said—"

He had already turned his back and began to walk away, the other boy watching him with a dumbfounded expression.

Bakugo only nudged him aside with his shoulder, not giving him a glance as he left the hallway. He might’ve called over his shoulder, calling the kid an extra.

You weren't sure, and frankly, you didn't care. The only thing you cared about at that moment was what just happened, what was going to happen, and kicking the ever-loving shit out of the tattletale who just ruined everything.

The guy was still staring at the hallway Bakugo had disappeared in, his eyebrows scrunched together.

"Did he just—"

"Don’t." You held up a hand, and his mouth shut immediately. "Just don't."

The boy didn't say anything after that. You left him as he was, not caring if he was confused or not. He shouldn't have interrupted in the first place.

You walked to the classroom, immediately hunting down the other blonde, who happened to be your betrayer. He was sitting down, talking to Sero and Kirishima, but you didn't hesitate to grab him by the ear and drag him away.

"Hey!" He cried out, struggling to escape. "What the hell?! Lemme go!"

"Why'd you do that?!" You demanded, turning to him and letting him go. "You ratted me out!"

He blinked, not understanding. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Denks!" You pointed at him accusingly, glaring at him. "You told Bakugo that I was training with Midoriya."

"I… was under a lot of pressure, okay?" He raised his hands defensively, leaning back. "Bakugo came to me after school and demanded where you were. He threatened to blow my face off!"

"Oh, yeah, real mature." You rolled your eyes. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?! He’s going to actually blow my face off."

"He didn't seem that mad," He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe it'll be okay."

"He talked like a regular person," You crossed your arms. "He was terrifyingly calm, Kaminari! And now he wants to meet me in the gym at five o'clock."

"Dude,” Sero extended the vowel, sitting forward in his seat as he had heard the conversation. "You’re so screwed."

You couldn’t help the glare you threw at him.

"You're not helping."

Kirishima also turned, frowning. "No, dude, he's right. You are screwed. I mean, you were sparring with Midobro behind his back." He shook his head. "He probably wouldn’t have cared much if it was me or anyone else, but—"

"You picked his mortal enemy." Sero finished, raising an eyebrow. "Like, seriously, dude. What did you expect?"

"Kaminari not to snitch on me?" You threw a look at the yellow-haired boy. "So much for being friends, huh?"

"Hey, I warned you," Kaminari huffed, crossing his arms. "But no, you wanted to hang out with his rival. If I didn’t tell him, I'm pretty sure he would've killed me. Like, literally, he would've killed me. No doubt."

"But you're fine with me dying?" You asked, a teasing smile pulling at your lips. "I see how it is."

"I thought I would have until after lunch to warn you," He defended himself, shrugging. "Guess he warned you instead, huh?"

You sighed, shaking your head.

"You guys aren't helping," You turned, running a hand through your hair. "I'm dead. So dead. Oh my god."

"Alright, who pissed off the chihuahua?"

You spun around at the sound of Mina's voice, seeing her, Jiro, and Hagakure all standing together.

How wonderful. The gang's all here.

"What are you talking about, Ashido?" Kirishima questioned, tilting his head.

"Bakugo's pissed," Jiro explained, pointing a thumb in his direction. "He’s storming through the hallways like someone just took a dump in his cereal."

"And it's not like he was in a good mood this morning, either," Hagakure added, bouncing on her toes. "Did something happen?"

You groaned and flopped down into a chair, hiding your face in your hands.

"Idiocy happened," Sero answered, shrugging. "That's what happened."

"Shut it, Tape Boy."

"You should probably tell us," Mina advised, sitting down next to you. She pulled you into a side hug, patting your shoulder. "What's up? Talk to me."

"Bakugo found out that I've been training with Midoriya," You mumbled, and the three girls nodded. "I’m dead. Aizawa can’t even save me."

"Aw, c'mon, it's not that bad." Jiro rolled her eyes, walking over to join the group. "Bakugo's all bark and no bite."

"He's not… all bark." You muttered, not meeting her eyes.

"I can vouch for that." Kaminari grinned, but the glare you shot him made him falter. "But uh, no, yeah, he's definitely more bite than bark."

"Oh, you poor baby." Hagakure cooed, leaning forward to ruffle your hair. You couldn't see her face, obviously, but you had a feeling she was smiling. "You can do it, though. It can't be that bad."

"You know what you should do?" Kirishima suggested a bright smile on his face. "Talk to him."

"I think that would make things worse, dude." You rubbed your eyes, sighing.

"I mean, tell him why you were doing it." He shrugged. "He’s feeling all types of betrayed right now, I bet. If you just explain your reasoning, he might let it slide."

"Doubtful."

"But it's worth a shot, isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow, his smile still intact. "Plus, you’d be showing him that you aren't afraid to take the initiative. Maybe he'll be a bit nicer."

"Do it at lunch so that if he tries to kill you, there'll be teachers nearby." Sero grinned.

"You're really not helping." You glared at him, but the group just laughed, leaving you to your sulking.

Mina was about to say something when the door to the classroom opened, and the very loved and grumpy Aizawa walked in. He didn't say a word; instead, he just shot a look at the group before sitting down to wait for the last few minutes before class started.

As much as you wanted to believe it, the only thing the group's conversation managed to do was make you more worried. You spent the entire class staring off into space, staring at the blonde boy who sat two seats in front of you.

His shoulders were tense, and his pencil was practically snapping in half as he scribbled notes on the paper. Every once in a while, his eyes would flicker back and forth, his teeth gritted, and his pencil would move a bit faster.

You couldn’t focus on what Aizawa was saying, too distracted by the blonde's behavior.

The class seemed to go on forever, but eventually, the bell rang, and the class began to shuffle out, chatting and laughing with their friends.

"Hey, Bakubro!" Kirishima walked over to the hothead, who had stayed behind to pack up his things. "You okay, man?"

He was a real one, that Kirishima.

"Peachy." He replied, throwing his bag over his shoulder. His tone was dry, and his eyes were tired, but there was a hint of anger in them.

"You sure? You seem a bit—"

"I'm fine, Shitty Hair." He hissed, his patience wearing thin. "Back off."

The redhead only nodded and backed away, holding his hands up. "Alright, man. Whatever you say."

He looked over at you, his eyes flickering between you and Bakugo.

He didn't need to say a word. You understood. You slowly approached the blonde, your heart in your throat.

"Uhm," You started, your voice cracking. You cleared your throat, trying to seem as unthreatening as possible. "Can we talk? I'll buy lunch."

He glanced at you, his jaw clenching. His eyes flickered down to the floor before meeting yours again.

"What makes you think I need you to buy me lunch?" He huffed, his grip on his bag tightening.

"It's an offer, dude," You shrugged, trying to sound more casual than you felt. It didn’t work. "I just want to talk, okay?"

He stared at you for a long moment, the gears in his head working. He looked over at Kirishima and Kaminari, who had been watching, before rolling his eyes and huffing.

"Fine. Whatever."

He pushed past you and made his way to the door, not bothering to check if you were following. You gave the other two a small, awkward smile and hurried after him, following close behind as he stomped his way through the hall.

You kept a bit of distance but stayed close enough so that he knew you were still there. He didn't speak, didn't even look at you, and his shoulders were still tense.

This was not going to end well.

But he hadn’t said no, so maybe there was a chance.

"So," You began, breaking the silence. "I—"

"Why?" He cut you off, not slowing his pace. His eyes were forward. "I already know your damn reasoning, so don't give me some bullshit excuse. Just tell me the truth."

He had stopped walking, now turning to face you. There were students milling about the hallway, and a couple were giving the two of you strange looks. You tried to ignore them.

You focused on the blonde's gaze.

"You're strong," You confessed, your voice wavering. "I want to be stronger."

His eyes narrowed at that.

"You could've asked," He growled. "You didn't have to sneak around and hide shit."

"Asked to… what? To kick my ass harder during our spars?" You huffed. "Because, as much as I hate to say it, I'm not winning in those."

He paused, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Is that what this is about?" He asked. "You wanted me to go easier on you? Are you kidding me?"

"No, that's not—"

"If you think villains are gonna hold back," He cut you off again, and the volume of his voice was getting higher. "You're out of your damn mind. You can't always depend on some shitty extra to bail your ass out."

"That's not—"

"Then what the fuck do you want from me, huh?!" He demanded, throwing his hands up. "You want me to hold your hand through heroics?! Is that what it is?!"

"I'm not asking you to do anything," You defended yourself, glaring. "All I wanted was a different perspective, damn."

"Yeah, what a nice perspective you got." He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Get perspective off the kid who can’t even use his quirk without breaking his fucking body. What a brilliant idea."

"Oh, come on!" You crossed your arms. "There is no reason for you to be so petty. I did this for you, and for me. What's the problem?"

"For me? " He echoed, his eyes widening. "The hell do you mean, 'for me'? Going behind my back and training with the nerd is not doing something for me."

"I did it to be a better opponent to you!" You raised your voice, ignoring the stares of your classmates. "I'm tired of losing all the time! You're my friend, and I don't want to constantly have my ass handed to me!"

"We're not friends," He hissed. "Friends don't do this kind of shit."

You faltered, taken aback.

"I'm— You're—"

"Save it," He snapped, not meeting your gaze. "I'm done. Fuck this. Fuck you. Go find someone else to train with."

He pushed past you, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stomped away. You stood there, gaping, unable to understand what just happened.

"Bakugo," You tried, your voice cracking. You didn't turn, too busy staring at the tile floor.

"Fuck off, idiot." He spat, not bothering to look back. "You can forget about the sparring later."

He didn't wait for you to respond. Instead, he shoved his way past the crowd, disappearing from sight.

You were still frozen, and you couldn't tell if the tears welling up in your eyes were from frustration or sadness.

The students rushing around you began to slow, staring at you with pity, confusion, or both.

But you didn’t have time to care because, at that moment, you couldn’t think of anything else.

Your stomach twisted. Your head throbbed. Your heart broke.

And you felt like you were going to throw up.

"Dude," Kaminari said, appearing next to you. "That was rough."

You didn't reply. You couldn't.

"Shut up, man," Kirishima said, placing a hand on your shoulder. He was frowning, his eyes full of worry. "She doesn't need that right now."

"This is some B-lister movie shit right here," Sero commented, shaking his head. "Seriously, what a drama queen."

Bakugo… he was… hurt. You could see it in his eyes. He was angry, obviously, but there was something else. Something that you had never seen before.

"He’s…"

"An idiot?" Sero guessed.

"A jerk?" Kaminari added.

"Emotionally constipated?"

At that, Kirishima punched Sero in the shoulder, causing him to groan and rub the spot.

"Ow, what was that for?!"

"He's just mad," Kirishima ignored the question, turning to face you. "Just give him some space. He'll come around."

"This is different," You argued, your throat burning. "I've never seen him like that. Never. It’s like he’s— I don't know."

"He's an asshole," Kaminari muttered, glaring down the hallway. "Don't waste your time on him."

"You didn't see the look in his eyes," You shook your head. "It was so different. He was almost… dejected."

"Hurt?" Sero repeated, raising an eyebrow. "The guy didn't look like he was in pain. He looked pissed."

"I… did this," You said, and the three boys frowned. "He said we weren't friends because I went behind his back. I didn’t realize he saw us as friends, and I— I ruined it."

"Hey, man, you didn't ruin anything." Kirishima shook his head, his voice firm. "He’ll realize the things he said and—"

You needed to apologize. You needed to go to him, and apologize, and explain in a way that doesn’t leave room for questions.

"I'm sorry," You spoke, interrupting the redhead. "I just— I gotta— I'm gonna go."

"Wait, I wouldn’t—"

But it was too late. You were already pushing your way through the crowd, not caring about the future consequences.

You were on a mission, and you were going to get shit done.

It was easy enough to find him. The Pomeranian hair was a dead giveaway. He never made it to the cafeteria and was instead standing off to the side, staring out the window.

He didn’t look up when you approached him, but you could see the tension in his shoulders.

"I'm sorry."

You didn’t beat around the bush or try to ease him into the conversation. You just came out and said it because there was no point in hiding it.

"Just…" He sighed, not bothering to look at you. "Just leave me alone, alright? We're done."

"Look, I didn’t—"

"Why can't you just listen?!" He yelled, whipping around to glare at you. Despite his angry expression, though, you could see the hesitation.

He wasn't as confident as usual.

"You're not listening to me," You argued. "I'm apologizing. Why can't you—"

"Because I don't need you to apologize," He snarled, his eyes narrowing. "I don't want your fucking apologies. You did what you did, and I'm over it."

"It's obvious that you aren't over it."

"What, and you are?"

"No, not at all," You shrugged, trying not to flinch. "I’m trying to fix the problem."

"Well, don't." He huffed, turning back towards the window. "There is no problem."

"You were going to take your anger out on me," You said, not daring to step any closer. "How the hell is there no problem?"

"I told you," He turned to face you. "I don't care. I don't give a shit anymore. I'm not going to spar with you. Not anymore."

"You can't—"

"I can't, or I won't?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Neither," You said. "I didn't— I didn't train with Midoriya because I didn't trust you."

He laughed. Actually, genuinely laughed, his eyes crinkling in amusement. You thought the most terrifying moment of his was when he spoke calmly, but that?

That, right there?

That was the scariest moment of your life.

"Are you joking?" He snorted, the smile disappearing just as fast as it had come. "You think that’s why I'm pissed?"

"It's— it's part of it, right?"

"Oh, no," He shook his head. "No, you don't get it, do you? Do I have to spell it out for you, dumbass? Do you want me to fucking say it?"

You hesitated, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

"Say what?"

He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.

"I was fine with the spars," He explained, his voice quiet. "I was fine with the competition. It was fun. You were a good match, and it made me a better fighter. I liked it."

He stopped, taking a deep breath.

"But when you went behind my back," He continued, his voice tight. "And when you didn't bother to tell me and instead told Dunce Face? Of all people?! That's where I had a problem."

"What does—"

"It means you're a coward."

You felt as if you'd been punched in the stomach, the air being knocked out of your lungs.

"You couldn't even look me in the eye and tell me, so instead, you went behind my back." He continued, and the volume of his voice was increasing. "You were too scared to face me, and you ran off and hid like a child."

"That's not true—"

"It is," He growled. "You know it, I know it, and the rest of the class knows it."

"So, you're telling me you're pissed because I'm a coward?" You asked, trying to keep the quiver from your voice.

"Partly," He replied, and the look in his eyes made you flinch.

"Partly," You repeated, your eyebrows furrowing. "So, what's the other part?"

"That I trusted you."

The words stung. They burned through your skin and pierced through your heart, making you feel as if you were the one with the explosion quirk.

He didn’t let you respond and instead walked up to you, his eyes dark.

"I trusted you," He repeated, his voice low. "I trusted you to come to me if you needed something, and I trusted that you would be honest with me. I thought we were at least close enough for that, but it turns out I was wrong."

"You— you weren't wrong—"

"If I was wrong, then why the hell did I go to Deku?! Why not me?! Why did you not trust me?!"

"I did trust you!" You cried, your eyes stinging.

"You went to the one person who could break his body with every punch," He snapped, his hands curling into fists. "You went to the kid who can’t control his damn quirk, and you went to the one person that I—"

He stopped himself, his face twisting in anger.

"What?" You pressed, taking a small step forward. "What were you going to say?"

"Nothing." He spat, turning his head. "Forget it. It's none of your damn business."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Bakugo," You pressed, trying to sound more demanding.

"Fuck off."

"Bakugo!"

He didn't answer and, instead, began to walk away.

"Damn it," You hissed, running up and grabbing his arm.

"Let go." He warned, not meeting your gaze.

"I'm sorry." You pleaded. "Okay? I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you already said that."

"I do trust you," You said. "You're an ass, and you're annoying, and you can be a bit too hardheaded, but I still trust you."

He paused, not looking at you.

"Then why didn't you go to me first?" He asked, his voice wavering. "You were my damn partner, and yet you—"

"I didn’t want you to make me feel bad," You answered. "I wanted to surprise you and prove myself. I know I can do it. I'm strong, and I'm fast, and I can be better than what I am now, and I wanted to show you that."

He was silent, but he still didn’t pull his arm from your grasp.

"I couldn’t ask for your help," You continued. "Because I didn’t want you to treat me any differently. I wanted you to see what I could do without any outside influence."

"What a stupid reason."

"You don't have to agree," You muttered. "But it was my reasoning, nonetheless."

He didn't say anything, and you sighed, letting go of his arm.

"I'm sorry," You apologized again, trying not to cringe. "I should have told you sooner, and I should have come to you. I should have trusted the way you'd react and not predicted how you would act. I was being selfish, and I should have considered you."

He turned his head, his eyes still narrowed. But it wasn't angry. No, it wasn't anger at all anymore. It was pure curiosity.

"What were you trying to prove?"

"Huh?"

"To me," He said, his eyebrows furrowing. "If you were training with me, then what were you trying to prove?"

You bit the inside of your cheek.

"I'm not sure." You answered, not daring to meet his gaze. "I guess I just wanted to impress you."

"Impress me?" He scoffed again, rolling his eyes. "You really are an idiot."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means I don't need to be impressed," He explained, his voice softer than before. "I don't give a shit about being impressed. I just want you to be stronger."

"So you can still kick my ass? But be more proud of it?" You guessed, smiling.

"Something like that," He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I want to be able to fight you without holding back."

"Oh, come on," You complained, rolling your eyes. "That's a load of crap, and you know it. You wouldn't have to hold back against me."

"Oh, yeah?" He asked, his voice lowering. "An hour with the nerd, and you think you're on my level now? You're delusional."

"You underestimate me."

"I'm not underestimating shit." He scoffed, leaning down slightly. "I can tell you, right here, right now, two minutes. I'd give it two minutes, tops, and then your ass would be on the floor."

"Really?"

"Really," He nodded, smirking. "Two minutes. That's it."

"Five o'clock?"

"Tch, fine," He agreed, taking a step back. "Don't be late, idiot."

"I won't." You assured, turning to leave. "I'll see you then, Bakugo."

"You'll see my foot up your ass."

And, just like that, the two of you were back to normal.

Did you win? Hell no. But your plan with Deku did come in handy, and you were able to put up a pretty good fight.

He did still beat you, of course, and the time was 4:57 when he finally got you on the floor.

But, it wasn't as humiliating as the previous spars, and you weren't nearly as embarrassed.

Instead, he just grinned, pulling you up by your hand and offering some tips.

And, honestly, they were better than the ones Midoriya had given you.

So, maybe going to the firecracker wasn't a terrible idea after all.

659 notes · View notes

2-dsimp · 1 month ago

Text

D͟͟͟͞͞͞A͟͟͟͞͞͞R͟͟͟͞͞͞L͟͟͟͞͞͞I͟͟͟͞͞͞N͟͟͟͞͞͞G͟͟͟͞͞͞ C͟͟͟͞͞͞A͟͟͟͞͞͞F͟͟͟͞͞͞E͟͟͟͞͞͞: F͟͟͟͞͞͞e͟͟͟͞͞͞a͟͟͟͞͞͞t͟͟͟͞͞͞u͟͟͟͞͞͞r͟͟͟͞͞͞i͟͟͟͞͞͞n͟͟͟͞͞͞g͟͟͟͞͞͞ t͟͟͟͞͞͞h͟͟͟͞͞͞e͟͟͟͞͞͞ Y͟͟͟͞͞͞a͟͟͟͞͞͞n͟͟͟͞͞͞d͟͟͟͞͞͞e͟͟͟͞͞͞r͟͟͟͞͞͞e͟͟͟͞͞͞ V͟͟͟͞͞͞I͟͟͟͞͞͞P͟͟͟͞͞͞ O͟͟͟͞͞͞n͟͟͟͞͞͞i͟͟͟͞͞͞ P͟͟͟͞͞͞o͟͟͟͞͞͞l͟͟͟͞͞͞i͟͟͟͞͞͞c͟͟͟͞͞͞e͟͟͟͞͞͞m͟͟͟͞͞͞a͟͟͟͞͞͞n͟͟͟͞͞͞

“So that’s it? All I need to do is just sign the NDA? And I can start working at the Darling cafe? There’s no need for my job interview at all?” You asked, in an apprehensive manner. Looking down at the sheet of paper which was placed in front of you by the smiley masked man who went by the name of Smiles.

“Yup! No need for a job interview or anything remotely tedious! You’ve already been approved by me, the head honcho of this particular Darling cafe branch. So there’s no need.” Your soon-to-be boss sounded off with a humorous tone in his airy voice that wasn’t muffled behind the mask. He merely spun a pen between his gloved fingers as if he was on autopilot. His other hand propping up his chin as he stared at you from his eye holes.

“All I require is for you to work wholeheartedly as a fine Darling in our establishment! Simple enough yeah?” He added, his tone carefree as he then leaned back within his office chair. His legs were crossed, while his arms moved to the back of his head.

This was your golden ticket out of debt! Your father being the deadbeat he was shifted all his debt onto you. His eldest child so that he could live Scot free and mooching off of the poor souls he swindled out of their money. To spend on drinking and gambling.

“Wow that’s great! You know I’ve heard some rumors about this place.” Smiles, stilled his eyes growing dark. He then inched forward from his lax position to hunch over the office table like a brooding old man. “Hah? What rumors did you hear sweetheart? Nothing strange right?”

“No, not at all! I’ve only been hearing good things about how the Darlings get paid generously. And even get healthcare benefits as well. I just wanted to fact check if that was true if that’s alright?” You rambled sheepishly, you had hoped that the rumors were true. You needed all the grace you could get with the shitty situation you’ve been held captive in.

After working many part time jobs that only paid minimum wage. You couldn’t help but be frustrated at how little of a dent you’ve made in getting your father’s debt off your shoulders. So it made you desperate to find any kind of job that would provide you the leverage you need to save yourself from potentially being sold off as collateral by the loan sharks.

“Oh that’s what you meant by rumors, haha! Yes you’ll be paid generously! As hazard pay will also be included.” You blinked at his words, hazard pay? What could be so hazardous working at a cutesy cafe of all things? You wanted to ask a question about it only for him to brush it off with an air of nonchalance.

“Don’t worry about that tibit too much it’s just a precaution per se. Since we cherish our Darlings dearly.” Smiley said with a serious undertone, while he had leaned back in his rolly chair to pull out a drawer to retrieve two stamps. Setting one onto the table next to you while he held the other in his grasp.

“Now to wrap things up, all I need you to do is sign the dotted line and then stamp yourself. Any part of the body will be fine.” He instructed, absentmindedly loosening up his tie. As if the mask he was wearing was making him feel a bit heated.

“Um stamp myself? As in just me and not the paper itself?” You asked dumbly, taking ahold of the stamp. It smelled alluringly sweet from the ink it was coated in. But the stamp mark would just wear off right? So what was the point?—

“It won’t wash off, it’s permanent. If that was what you’re wondering about dear.” Smiley, hummed pulling down his arm sleeve to reveal his stamp mark. It was a small QR code imprint on his inner wrist. “Let’s just say that It’s a safety measure we take to have your identity registered in our employee system. As lots of rats try to impersonate our workers/patrons or sneak in uninvited.”

That statement unnerved you a bit, but you didn’t have any time to waste. With determined hands you stamped yourself on the body part of your choosing. And steadily signed the dotted line completely missing how Smiles eyes had glowed faintly behind the holes of his mask.

His grip on the helm of the stamp he had splintered from the bubbling joy he felt at nabbing yet another prospective darling under his wing. The masked man could practically taste the sweet victory on his tongue. from beating his petty associate in a bet for whoever could pull in the most Darlings for their Yandere patrons.

“Well it’s been a pleasure. Welcome to the team Darling! Now let’s get you all prepped and ready for your debut to our lovely Patrons I’m sure you’d be a popular choice. ”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧

“Alrighty Mister Koori, your Yandere Patron ID is all set for the Darling cafe!” Chimed the Helper at the front desk, they were neither a darling nor a fellow Yandere patron and seemed to be a working third party between the two factions within the Darling cafe. “Thank you for taking the time to fill out the questionnaires, it’s just to make sure your profile is 100% accurate for future darling match making.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧

The Helper hummed, tapping away at the service patron screen. Glancing up at the giant Oni man, who was a whooping 10 feet tall. Making everything dwarfed from his size, where he had to duck his head to avoid his horns from scraping against the top of the front door entrance. “And seeing as you’ve invested in becoming a VIP member of ours would you like to see the latest edition of Darlings within our fine establishment?”

“…”

Wordlessly the Water Oni extended his huge calloused hand towards the attendant. Waiting for the catalog to be placed within his grasp his face remaining blank. Though his frosty eyes betrayed his nonchalance with a glimmer of interest.

“None of these will do.”

Shimo, grumbled underneath his tusks. Scanning over the catalog over trying to find someone who’d be the calm to his brewing storm. The only reason he even invested his time in coming out here. Despite his distaste for being in a public crowded setting.

Was because of his police patrol partner, Naan’s recommendation of the Darling cafe. Singing it high praise reviews of how the cafe helped them to successfully capture their own lover.

“Well sir how about you take a look at the exclusive selection for our VIP guests. I’m assuming you’re looking for the sunshine type of Darling, yes?” The Helper guessed and Shimo merely nodded truthfully. Liking how observant the worker was saving him from any needless chatter about what he was searching for.

The previous darlings on the public catalog looked so bland in his eyes. The Policeman wanted a darling who’d be his ray of sunshine on a rainy day. An optimistic type if you will, as it’ll complement against his cynical outlook on society. Thanks to his tireless job of catching felons and menaces to society for a living.

“This one…I want them to serve me.”

Shimo said softly, his claw tapping at your portrait within the exclusive catalog. Where your profile appeared underneath the Newbie Darlings listings. He admired the way you were so cute in the picture. Hair all messy with a sheepish smile on your lips, you looked as if you walked into a gust of wind which knocked you off kilter. And it was no doubt your newbie appearance that attracted him.

“Hoh? You’ve got a good eye! Luckily that darling has just been recruited to be working with us today on opening night. I’ll be sure to schedule the both of you to meet immediately” The rapid typing from the Helper alongside a sound ping coming from Shimo phone. Indicated that the date had been set for 9pm, right around where his shift would end.

With a chuff of satisfaction he tipped his hat towards the Helper and sauntered off ducking once more underneath the door frame. His cold heart thrumming with heat from the thought of being able to meet his prospective darling in just a couple hours.

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[9:00pm Opening night of the Darling Cafe]

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The whistling bells from the door rang as a familiar giant figure slouched his way through the small entrance. Shimo, was dressed in a traditional Oni garb, of exotic divine beast furs, his iron club situated right upon the strap of his waist.

He already had a look of annoyance at hearing how chatty everyone was in the cafe. Dreading jam packed spaces as he was easily prone to anger given his temperament. Nonetheless, the blue oni was guided by the Helper who greeted him politely. Making way for the VIP section where the ogre was pleasantly surprised with how spacious and quaint the area was.

“Mister Koori, here is your VIP seating section. So whenever you come in you can just waltz on in here and get comfortable without needing to wait in line” They had booths tailored for Yandere Patrons of all shapes in sizes. Ranging from the Giant plus section for the bigger customers. And fairy sized section for the smaller ones.

The Helper then checked his watch. His eyes fixated on the moving hands before he grew a faint smile. “Well mister Koori the Newbie Darling you’ve requested will be arriving shortly! Just tap this button if you need my assistance or have any questions.”

With a polite bow the Helper waltzed away back to his station at the front desk leaving Shimo to his thoughts. But it wasn’t long until his train of thought derailed at feeling a cold splash on his attire alongside a faint presence falling against him. He blinked slowly, veins popping out one by one as his tusks grew in pure agitation. He was about to put his iron club to good use.

That is until he heard your apologetic frantic voice drowning in his ears like a pleasant water stream. His chilled glare softened seeing the newbie Darling he’d handpicked himself. Situated between his thighs clutching onto the server platter. Their outfit also covered in the daiquiri slush.

“I’m so sorry! Oh no your exotic furs— My god they look like they cost more than my life, Just give me a moment I’ll wash them myself ASAP—”

Your floundering made his lips twitch upwards a bit in a slight smile. He didn’t look like it but he did enjoy fucking with people despite his no nonsense attitude.

“It does cost more than your life. These furs came from divine beasts I killed myself. It wasn’t an easy feat.” The Water oni spoke, his words as tranquil as the ocean. Glowering down at you with a half lidded gaze. His large clawed fingers gently tilting your chin upwards so your eyes met with his own.

“I could file for destruction of property in this case. So what’re you going to offer me as compensation? To make me overlook this incident, Darling?”

Let me know if yall wanna see more of the Darling Cafe! ψ(｀∇´)ψ

#Shimo the WOni #yandere monster #darling cafe #yandere stories #yandere writing #yanderecore #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere concept #yandere male x reader #yandere monster x reader #yandere blurb #yanblr

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laurfilijames · 8 months ago

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Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Hurricane. Power outage. Oral sex (F receiving). Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: A hurricane rolls in and knocks out the power, allowing Will to make good use of the time waiting it out with you.

A/N: I've had this idea toiling around in my head for a bit, and when we recently lost power at our cottage, I decided to go for it. I have no experience of hurricanes so I apologize if this isn't accurate, though I tried to remain vague. A big thanks to @rhoorl for the Florida hurricane knowledge and to @ramadiiiisme for supporting this idea through to the very end 💗

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The sight when you reached the top of the stairs stopped you in your tracks, admiring Will standing by the large window of your living room looking out at the wrath of weather outside, his expression content and thoughtful.

You set down the pile of various candles you had collected from every room in the house, smiling despite feeling a tangle of nerves in your stomach at the potential strength of this growing hurricane.

“Should you be standing that close to the window?” you asked, causing Will to smirk and glance over his broad shoulder at you.

“She’s starting to really ramp up out there.”

You sighed in response, dreading the thought of it getting any worse, the rain already accumulating to the point that the drainage systems on the street couldn’t keep up with it.

Will remained in place, staring back out at the palm trees swaying wildly, the bend of their trunks impressive, seeming completely unbothered by the storm and almost calmed by it.

Coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and brought your hands up to his chest, feeling him take a slow breath in as he covered one of your hands with his.

“I like watching Mother Nature do her thing,” he explained, his voice soothing and even. “She’s angry, letting it all out.” He squeezed your hand as you rested your cheek on his back, already tired of watching the sheets of rain and extreme wind bully everything in their paths.

“I know what that’s like,” he finished, exhaling another slow breath that you felt fill and deflate out of his lungs.

Will turned and gathered you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his somber admission now an afterthought. “So, what did you manage to scrounge up?” he asked, his tone lighter than before.

“Oh, just every candle I’ve ever bought or been given,” you smiled, turning your head to look at the array that was spread out on the kitchen table. “It might look nice when they’re all lit up, but the combination of scents might be a bit offensive.”

Will laughed, his body moving against yours with the motion of it, and you smiled and looked up at him, his blue eyes bright in the dim grey of the storm.

“I just hope the power stays on a bit longer,” you wished out loud, knowing however many candles you made glow wouldn’t be enough to outshine the encroaching dark from the storm let alone the fact that it was creeping later into the night.

“Hmm, yeah, the air conditioner is hardly keeping up as it is,” Will explained, his hand smoothing up your back where it dragged your shirt along with it, the stickiness of your skin and clothes already beginning to feel intolerable.

The lights flickered and the sound of the power surging through the house made both of you part slightly to glance at your surroundings, the warmth from the light of the lamps that were turned on illuminating your belongings for the last time before everything went dark.

Will chuckled while you groaned, his hands rubbing up and down your arms. “Well, sweetheart, it looks like you’ve got a superpower.”

You shot him a glare as you walked over to the table, starting to distribute the candles throughout the kitchen and living room, but not lighting any yet since some light was still coming in from outside.

Will sat on the couch, grinning as he watched you, almost seeming like he was pleased and entertained by the situation.

“How long before you turn on the generator?” you asked, testing your luck even though you knew what the answer was going to be.

He shook his head as he laughed again, “Not until I need to. We might have a ways to go here and I’m not wasting gas in the first few hours of this.”

His eyebrows crept up his forehead as he spoke, his voice stern and amused all at once. “You’re going to have to be patient and trust me.”

You sighed and nodded, flicking the Zippo lighter you held on and off a couple of times before walking into the living room to join him, knowing that out of all the people to have by your side during an emergency, Captain William Miller was the best and most capable one.

He had already spent hours checking the house to make sure everything was secure, gathering supplies like gasoline and food and water, and hauled sandbags all morning with Benny and Frankie that they distributed out to the neighbours, even making a point to check in on some of the elderly ones.

“C’mere,” he purred, beckoning you over to where he sat comfortably, his long legs spread wide with one arm draped over the back of the couch.

He looked at you adoringly as you moved toward him slowly, his smile growing to pull out the creases beside his mouth that couldn’t be kept hidden in his beard, and you matched it with your own sly grin, suddenly forgetting everything that was happening around you as you became pleasantly distracted by the man sitting before you.

You straddled his lap, pulling up the hem of your flowy skirt as you did, seating yourself directly on the bulge in his workout shorts that elicited a low moan from him.

“It’s going to be a long night, sweetheart,” he spoke softly, his eyes flickering over your chest and then up to your lips. “We’re going to have to ride this thing out.”

It was said with such implication that despite the heat, you shivered, goosebumps crawling up your back and down your arms, and you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you squirmed on his vast thighs.

“And what are your suggestions for…riding… it out, Captain?”

Will shrugged and smirked, his eyes glowing the same way his skin was from the humidity that hung heavily in the room, his hands groping at your hips.

“I’ve got some ideas.”

You smiled as you cupped his cheeks, loving the way his dark blond facial hair felt against your palms, and pulled him into a kiss while arching your back to get your body closer to his at the same time, both of you breathing out in the relief of your lips meeting.

Will set the pace, starting off with slow rolls of his tongue with yours, his hands carding up and down your body languidly, reminding you that there was no hurry in any of your actions and that you had all the time in the world to do anything you wanted with each other.

You slid your hands down the thick column of his neck to his chest, feeling his pulse hammer against them, landing on his chest where his body heat poured off of him, the cotton of his t-shirt damp and clinging to his form.

It took everything in you to maintain composure, thankful for Will reminding you to slow it down whenever you found yourself moving your hips faster, his hands pressing and digging into your flesh to force you to keep the steady rhythm that he started.

The slick that already saturated your thong teased you the more you ground your aching core against him, feeling his hard cock straining against the material that contained it, the excitement and anticipation of having him buried inside you intensifying by the second.

The skin on your chin and lips were already raw from how long you had been kissing, the steamy makeout session only made better by dry humping each other until you both were on the verge of finishing how you were, your whines and moans growing while your movements decreased to be as light as possible in an attempt to prolong this intoxicating tease.

Will kissed and sucked at your neck and chest, having already exposed more of you by tugging the neckline of your shirt to the side with eager hands, his breath fanning over your sweat-coated skin when he sighed deeply through his nose.

“Fuck me, you’re gonna make me cum in my shorts.”

He huffed out a laugh, but his admission only spurred you on more, grinding harder on him until his humour faded out and was replaced by ferocity, growling as he pressed his lips against yours again, the sweat that saturated his beard transferring onto you.

The storm was still going strong in the background, sheets of rain pummeling the house and striking the window with a sound that mimicked waves crashing the shoreline, the nerves you felt about it shifting into a frenzied arousal that you directed onto the man beneath you.

Your hands struggled to get under his shirt, the material so stuck to his stomach from his sweat that the skin on your palms dragged along his abdomen, the tackiness making it difficult for you to peel it up over his head.

It hit the floor with a slap, the weight of it evidence of how much the heat and you were affecting him, and you smiled against his lips at the sound of his breath hitching as you slid your hands down his chest to land on his solid pecs while your lower half continued to torture him.

You touched him everywhere you could reach, smoothing down his stomach and back up again, cradling the sides of his neck and then over his shoulders, and finally up to his hair where you let your fingers rake through it until you knew you had made it stick up in a spiky mess, deepening your kiss as the sensation made him press harder into your mouth.

The window rattled from the force of the winds, disrupting you enough that you broke your kiss and turned to look at it, the thought of it possibly shattering filling you with worry as you were reminded of your vulnerability.

Will placed his hand on your chin, his thumb smoothing it while his other fingers tucked up under your jawline, guiding your head back to face him where he silently assured you that everything was fine, his eyes reflecting a surety and vow of protection that no amount of reinforcements on the house could ever match. He adjusted the pad of his thumb so it sat on your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly to part it from the upper one, and it surprised you to see how quickly his expression changed, his eyes darkened so much by lust in a matter of seconds that the look in them rivaled the clouds spiraling outside.

He kissed you desperately, his hands falling to your waist where he lifted your shirt upward, only pausing the union of your mouths long enough to remove it from you, your braless chest grazing against his when you leaned into each other again.

Goosebumps broke out across your skin despite the humidity clinging heavily to the air around you, your nipples hardening and feeling incredibly sensitive each time his body brushed against them, your needy moans pouring into his mouth the more his hands roamed over your mostly bare form.

You could hardly handle it anymore, desperate to feel him deep inside you, moving your hips back slightly so you could access him, tearing the front of his shorts down where you reached in for his cock. Will was helpful, lifting his ass off the couch so his shorts could slide down his thighs in order to expose all of himself, his expression serious with brows furrowed and knitted tightly together as he watched you grip him in your hand and began stroking him tip to base, smearing the precum leaking from it all over his silky shaft.

He grabbed your hips, pulling you back to sit directly on top of his groin, guiding your motions as you rocked your covered pussy on his bare cock.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he hissed, holding your skirt up so he was able to watch you grind along his length, pressing his cock flat against his lower stomach where drips of cum spilled onto the smattering of flaxen pubes.

A slow sigh of approval passed your lips as you continued to languidly ride him, your eyes closing as you lost yourself in the sensation and moaning when you felt Will capture one of your breasts in his mouth and spin his tongue around your nipple.

You could feel him growing more impatient, his lips moving faster along your chest where he eagerly worshiped your tits, his fingers clawing at the thin material of your skirt as if he was ready to rip it to shreds to get at you, and his breathing became more laboured, his chest rising and falling quickly while the exhalations from his nose ghosted against the crests of your breasts.

“I need in there,” he growled, his head shaking to the side a couple of times like there was no way he could handle another second not being inside you, his fingers slipping into the crotch of your saturated panties to pull them to the side before running his index and middle fingers through your slick.

Your mouth pooled with saliva as he drove his long digits in and out of you in broad strokes before bringing them up to his mouth to suck them clean, his other hand angling his cock to line up to part your folds while you lifted yourself up on your knees to allow him access to enter you.

You sank onto him slowly, letting him fill you inch by inch until you encased him completely, his blue eyes locked with yours with an appreciation held in them that made your heart beat faster.

Remaining still, you leaned forward and kissed him, your hands holding onto either side of his face, deepening your kiss as you relished in the fullness he provided without moving.

When you parted, Will gave you a soft smile that made you melt, his fingers coming up to trace along the side of your cheek.

“I love you,” he said, the surety in his words clear, although his expression was a thrilling mix of adoration and something waiting to be unleashed, the suspense of experiencing either rough or gentle treatment exhilarating you.

“I love you too, Will,” you breathed, not daring to look away from him.

A strong gale slapped the side of the house, reminding you that the hurricane blasting outside wasn’t to be forgotten, but Will immediately drew your attention back to him, his hands smoothing up your back to hold you against him in a firm, but soft way, his lips pressing onto your shoulder and across your collarbone to your neck, alternating between kisses and nips that told you his control was beginning to falter.

You started moving on him, riding him in careful waves that felt so incredible you weren’t sure how long you could keep it up, knowing that whether you moved slow or fast, you would be reaching your climax in no time.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, resting his back against the couch to watch you, locking his hands on your hips to force you down hard each time you lifted yourself up and almost off his cock.

He was completely enamoured, looking at you as if anything could be happening outside that window and he wouldn’t care to notice, his eyes dancing over your form in a struggle to choose which part of you he wanted to see the most.

Finding the perfect spot that made you thrum with ecstasy, you rolled your hips and bounced up and down, your swollen clit hitting the base of his cock in a shattering blow each time, your skin tingling from head to toe as your orgasm built.

“You’re right there, aren’t you?” Will asked, his words breathy as he admired you sliding on him.

“Yes, fuck!”

Will thrusted up into you a few times, your cries growing loud enough they almost drowned out the noise of the hurricane, your nails digging into the flesh on his shoulder as you approached your high.

“Hey, hey, hold on,” Will interrupted, though his voice was soothing. “Not yet.”

His eyes were big and bright despite the dark grey that had fully consumed the room, and although you were taken aback by him edging you, you couldn't deny the trust you had in him to look after you.

“Sit down,” he ordered, nodding to the space on the couch beside him as helped move your legs off of his.

Will stood and removed his shorts that sat halfway down his legs, stepping out of them before moving to kneel on the floor in front of you, his thumbs smoothing on your knees in a way that contradicted the way he forcefully pressed on them to encourage you to spread your legs for him.

He kissed his way up the inside of your right thigh, a low growl coming from him as he inhaled deeply when he reached your core, and then moved over to your other thigh, peppering wet kisses slowly away from where you needed him most until you were squirming where you sat.

“Will…” you breathed, shifting your hips to try to bring yourself closer to him.

“Let’s get this off,” he grunted, his patience thinning as your skirt was preventing him from taking everything he wanted.

He reached behind you, his fingers easily finding the zipper and pulled it down, keeping steely eye contact while wiggling it off your hips with the help of you shifting from one cheek to the other until he peeled the flowy fabric off of your body.

The creases on his forehead were pronounced as he continued to look up at you as he tugged at the waist of your thong, sliding it down to expose your dripping cunt that his eyes were now fixed on as he guided the wet piece of cotton to your feet.

Will hooked his arms under your legs, letting them relax on his biceps, his tattooed forearms wrapping around your thighs to hold you securely. He pulled you toward him, bringing you to the edge of the cushion so you were flush with his face, his nose brushing your folds before his tongue swiped through the mess he had already made.

A long moan toppled out of you as you raked your fingers through his hair, lifting your hips slightly to get even more contact with his talented tongue that licked at you slowly and precisely in an effort to wreck you.

He picked you apart minute after agonizing minute, continuously bringing you to the peak only to stop you there each time, the violent storm outside going ignored and nothing compared to the one raging inside you.

As always, Will was completely focused on his mission, working you with the expertise he had come to master over all the hours spent learning your body, knowing the exact amount of pressure placed on the perfect spot that would send you soaring.

Not once did his hands leave their hold on your legs, completely unselfish in his art and not even considering touching himself, his generosity and the thought of his leaking, rigid cock left waiting for attention adding to your demise.

You pleaded over and over, his name like a song with the storm as your instrumental background, desperate for release as you ground against his face, your heels digging into his waist as he in turn dug his mouth harder into your cunt.

He had you where he wanted you, and pushing your tolerance a little further, Will unraveled one of his arms from around your leg and slipped his hand between the sofa and you, fingering you slowly while he sucked at your over-sensitive clit, the precise hook of his fingers making you clench around them like a vice.

And then he stopped.

You cursed loudly, whining and squirming as he sat up and looked at you with a satisfied expression, his face glistening from your pleasure.

A stray branch from a tree flew by and struck the house, drawing both of your attention to the window, but Will was quick to recover where your focus belonged.

He stood, a slight hitch as he straightened his long legs, his body that had been put through so much physical turmoil over his years of service known to cramp up if left idle for too long.

Will gripped at your knee, pushing it toward the back of the couch so your body was forced to spin and lay down, crawling between your spread legs until he was positioned over top of you with his arms braced on either side of your shoulders.

He kissed you intensely, moaning into your mouth as his cock nudged where he had left you aching for relief, savouring you like he had gone without the press of your lips on his for days.

His hand found yours, interlacing your fingers as he brought your arm above your head, laying his body completely on yours so he covered you entirely, protecting you with all he had.

He was heavy, but comforting, his weight assuring and a reminder of his strength and unwavering love for you, and at the same time it came as a warning of the crushing power he could choose to have, like he was a hurricane all in himself and you were in his path of destruction.

Will paused in kissing you as he adjusted his hips, looking down between your bodies to watch his cock easily push through your tight folds, a shaky breath exhaling from his parted lips as his brows knitted tightly together at the sensation of being back in your embrace.

You looked to the side to see out the window as another blast of wind surged against the house, only to have Will squeeze your hand that he still held in his, his voice calm and even.

“Hey, focus on me,” he ordered, his eyes a turbulent blue when you met them. “Look at me.”

You nodded, holding his gaze as he began to move inside you, the feel of him stroking your walls in long, slow drags making it difficult to keep your eyes open.

Your free hand ran along the flexing muscles of his back, clawing at his sweat-coated skin as he found a pace that brought you right back to the point he had left you at more than once, your head tipping back into the couch as you were dragged into the throes of pleasure even more intensely than before.

“You’re safe with me, sweetheart,” Will promised, his voice intoxicating and comforting all at once. “I’ve got you, you can relax…”

He spoke against your neck before moving his mouth back to yours, kissing you gently before probing his tongue in, the tempo of his thrusts deepening now that he knew you were succumbing to everything he was giving you.

He moved on you like the wind moved the rain, pushing and forceful, seeking his own release as he rolled against you with fervor and breathy moans were exchanged between your mouths as you chased your highs together.

Your whole body tensed, convulsing and giving up all control as he fucked you through the shattering orgasm made even more powerful thanks to how he had edged you, feeling yourself release on his shaft that alternated between being buried deep inside you and pulling out almost completely.

Will pressed his mouth hard on yours before breaking the seal of your lips, allowing his laboured breaths and rough grunts to sound out as he fought to follow right behind you, the cadence of your contracting walls coaxing out his end.

You could feel him pulse inside you, filling you to the brim with his thick, hot seed that was always generous in its quantity, his pace remaining steady though his rhythm began to break.

Drops of sweat from his brow landed on your chest, his harsh movements shaking the accumulated moisture off of him, continuing to buck into you erratically until he had nothing left to give.

He crashed against your lips again, transferring even more sweat from his efforts onto your skin, his hand releasing yours where he brought it to your head and smoothed it over your hair, kissing you slowly but purposefully as he gradually let the rolling of his hips fade out.

After a minute, Will pulled out of you, reaching for some tissues out of the box on the side table and handed them to you, taking some for himself for you to both clean up. He stood with a grunt, looking down at you with an extended hand to take the soiled tissues from you, the muscles in his cheeks flinching wildly as he clenched his teeth together.

Will paused for a minute, looking out at the tempest scene, all of his veins raised as blood pumped strongly through them, his muscles accentuated beautifully from his efforts, and you couldn’t help but fall even further in love for him, his face stoic and almost unreadable, but only you knew how much emotion lingered beneath.

He sighed as he moved again, stretching his weary limbs while stalking to the kitchen, and you wondered if he had any idea how much you worshiped him even as he did the simplest of things.

You laid there listening to him rummage around, looking out the window at the ever-present hurricane, the room almost completely dark as night had successfully consumed the sun along with the storm.

Will returned with two glasses of water and set one on the table, passing the other to you.

“Drink up, sweetheart,” he drawled, smirking as he spoke. “The eye hasn't even passed over yet, we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

The wink he sent you went straight to your core, your anticipation of whatever else he had planned for you enticing you and almost had you hoping this hurricane would last for days.

You returned his smile as you brought the glass to your lips, sipping it as you watched him sit on the couch beside you and grab the lighter off the coffee table, flicking it on so the warm flame illuminated his dewy, gorgeous features in the otherwise dreary dark. He lit the two candles that you had placed there earlier before grabbing his own glass and downing the contents of it, seeing the way his throat moved as he swallowed making you thirsty for more.

He sighed when he finished drinking, running his hand over his face to rid it of the sweat, and looked back over to you still laying where he had left you.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked, his eyes slowly traveling up your naked form until they landed on yours.

You shook your head ‘no’, giving him a sated smile, thinking how you would happily give up air conditioning and electricity permanently if it meant sharing more moments like this with him.

Will gave a nod and laid down beside you, helping you shift so there was room for him to lay with his front against your back, spooning you comfortably where you both were able to face the window.

His arm draped over your waist and tucked under yours, his hand cupping your breast, and tangling his legs with yours, brought his groin as close to your bum as he could.

He hummed against the back of your neck, his nose brushing your damp skin, and you smiled when you felt he was hard again, his cock pressing between your cheeks.

“You’re going to outlast this hurricane,” you giggled, squirming so your bum rubbed along his shaft, making him growl against your skin.

“Damn right, sweetheart,” he chuckled, his hand running down your stomach and around to your ass, spreading your cheeks apart where he slowly pushed inside your tight walls.

He kissed your neck, the sensation of his beard on your skin making you moan and shiver, his hand returning to your breast where he tugged and pinched at your peaked nipple.

“We're going to need to pace ourselves, here,” he warned in your ear, beginning the slow drag of his cock out of you before slamming it back in, the conflict he felt between wanting to keep you safe and seeking to destroy you playing in his mind.

---

Comments and reblogs are the lifeline of fanfic, so if you enjoyed reading this story, please consider sharing your thoughts with me and others! 💗

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls

@littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie

@rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989

#will miller #will miller smut #will miller x female reader #triple frontier #charlie hunnam #will miller x reader #will 'ironhead' miller #william miller #william 'ironhead' miller #triple frontier fic #will miller fic #charlie hunnam characters

586 notes · View notes

karlachismylife · 2 months ago

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Blind Spot || The Queen of the Clan pt.3

CW: fem!chubby!reader, kinda stalking and privacy invasion (what privacy out in the savanna though), mentions of pissing/marking

You're still shaken even by the end of the day, and you're not alone in this state: no one fancies being trampled, no matter how beuatiful the wild black and white horsy lolipops are, and even the local guides look unnerved by today's brush with a horrific death. So you don't feel weird when you find yourself restless and on high alert deep into the barely moonlit night - even though Kir has it better than you and breathes evenly in the sleeping bag next to you, he mutters something like "careful" when you climb out of your tent. He understands, doesn't complain - honestly, a great fucking guy to have as your friend here.

The night is quite cooler than the frying pan that the days out here are, but it's still relatively warm and filled with loud noises, making it feel much more welcoming, even though by logic you should be more afraid of the darkness filled with so much wildlife than of a still, silent night. You and your human vision are no better than unsuspecting antilopas stocking up on some grass for an upcoming migration - an easy target for a silent predator, whose glinting eyes in the night vision camera will be the last thing flashing before it pounces you.

But then again, you have everyone around you to alert of an intruder: cautious birds, crickets, loud enough to make your eardrums vibrate as you pass their invisible high grounds on quiety rustling grass blades. Even some distant monkeys calling each other, ready to warn everyone around them like the good neighbours they are. That's probably more than your human neighbours in the city would do for you, if they even had noticed an intruder under late night TV or headphones.

Surely, you're safe enough in the confines of a camp to step aside and pee before going back to sleep.

You turn around to be greeted with a sight straight out of Conan Doyle's Hound of the Baskervilles, savannah edition. A huge, dog-like figure, looming right in the passage between tents ominously, a bare skull where its head should be.

If you didn't have to piss before, you sure do now.

The animal seems to sense the way your heart drops, fingers growing cold immediately, a potential shriek stuck in your throat, and moves. Takes a step back. Gets its lowered, unthreatening head out of the complete darkness - a pair of plush, round ears, one chipped harshly, light mane and an uneven patch of lighter fur on its mangled, but still adorable in its way, muzzle (so that's the skull) revealed.

A fucking hyena. Again. At least not the one that already took a habit of nuzzling up to you and using your backpack as its toilet - although, judging solely by size, this one would be more dominant - even though dominant hyenas don't usually go around looking like they were mauled by their whole clan. Still, who's to say it won't decide to go and spray over the other's scent just to prove who's more important? A single thought of getting your stuff double-scented makes your eyes water. Hyenas fucking stink.

"Don't you dare come piss on my stuff, you fucking Baskerville mutt," you threaten the hyena quietly, backing off into the patch of grass you intended to water. The hyena scoffs at you, but bows its head again. Its eyes - just two glistening orbs in the scarce lighting you have here - don't seem all that pleading and submissive, like the other one's did, but you know better than to judge animals by their eyes. They're not humans, no matter how similar their behaviour sometimes is, and you have to rely on indicators like their stance and vocalization.

Your ghostly visitor seems to be pretty calm. Perhaps got attracted by the unfamiliar hyena's smell you brought with yourself, and now is mostly confused and wary of the bulky tents with many humans inside - and one lucky human outside.

"There's no food for you here. You better go hunt somewhere else, or you'll be hungry," you try not to think that there is very much food for the hyena - namely, you - and back away further. The hyena that seemed quite content with just standing in one place all hauntingly, suddenly moves, pushes its ears back and whoops at you, making you stop abruptly.

The grass right where your foot would be planted moves silently and a single glint of a snake hurrying away from the big clumsy distrubance sends a shiver down your spine. You can't make out what snake it was, but you sure as hell don't mind never knowing compared to the other alternative. You shoot a glance at the hyena in its guarded position, and you find yourself able to follow the snake's path by the subtle movements of your fluffy savior's eyes. Huh. Not even a full twenty-four hours, and you're already saved twice by hyenas. If that's not the biggest middle finger to the Lion King, then what?

"Do you mind staying on watch while I pee, maybe?" you chuckle, teasing the hyena - surely it doesn't understand you, but it lets out a low whiny growl, as if acknowledging that it heard you try and communicate with it. You comtemplate hiding behind someone's tent (that's not very neighbourly, though) or a rover (too far, and who knows how many more snakes are there to taste your ankles along the way), but the train of thought lands back where you started: putting on a show in front of a hyena out of a ghost story.

You'll just have to pray that it doesn't consider you simply relieving yourself as an attempt to assert dominance or call dibs on its territory.

Surprisingly, the hyena averts its eyes as you crouch down in an uncomfortable position, your legs already cramping and the very real fear of anything crawling into your panties keeping you from actually letting go. When you finally manage, your guard's ears twitch, turning to the hissing sound, but it almost makes a point to keep its muzzle turned away - the logical explanation would be that there's actually something more interesting for the animal in the direction it's looking at. But you can dream of a respectful hyena ghost standing guard while you struggle to pull your pants back up, right?

You circle the hyena on the way back, keeping your eyes on it the whole time, and it turns its big patterned head to follow you too, wagging its tail lazily once or twice as you nearly stumble on the uneven ground. You only turn away from him, pretty much fed up with your night escapades (what did you want though, you're in the middle of the animal kingdom), as you try to open your and Kir's tent.

And then you hear the rustling and a low grumble. Alerted, you lift your head, prepared to scream as a last attempt to wander the predator off, only to find it fully laying on the ground, snout-first in the dust, rolling around and getting sand and dirt into its mane as it rubs its hide desperately at a certain spot on the ground.

The spot you just peed on.

"Ew, pervert," you react faster than you should, words slipping out as if you were actually witnessing a human do the same, not an animal that's very much used to rubbing its scent off on others and recieving the same treatment. But then again, what hyena wants human scent on its fur?

The hyena seems to hear you though. Its jolly tossing stops immediately, and you meet its huge dark eyes for a moment, before it makes another whiny grumbling noise - much more high-pitched this time, as if you caught the poor furry baby off guard and embarassed it - and scatters away, rushing silently through the night until it simply dissolves into the darkness.

Just like a ghost should.

Part 2 | Part 3.5 | Part 4

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog @creepingeva @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @sillymanjaro @ihatethinkingofnames10 @ravensfeatheruniverse @yaminax @ljh861

honestly i don't know if posting updates so fast is a good idea, but i'm an attention whore and seeing people enjoy this thing overdozes me on dopamine better than any differential equation could, so i'll try and make updates as each previous chapter reaches a 100 notes. also a reminder that i will eventually block ageless blogs interacting at least with the nsfw chapters, so please take a minute and put your age in your bio or pinned post!

you can ask to be added to the taglist under series masterlist post

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ghosts-u · 8 months ago

Text

When Charlie was first born things had been… tense between Lucifer and heaven. While they had never directly threatened the life of his child the angels had made their displeasure at the implications of Lucifer having children known. They had never said out right for Lucifer not to have more children. But the indirect threats and the particularly Brutal extermination the year that Charlie was born was enough for him to get the message.

Still he would never let them hurt his child he loved Charlie with all his heart and no matter what he would protect his daughter.

The angels did not want Lucifer having more children, and he was content with only having one child. He knew he was not the best father for Charlie a part of him did want to have a chance to try again but he never actually thought he would get the chance.

—

Lucifer’s heart swelled as he stared at the little bundle in his arms. Lilith stood looking at the child pensively she reached over gently touching the baby's cheek and sighs. “How do you think the angels will react once they find out about her?” Lilith questioned. And Lucifer was conflicted the last thing he would ever want is for anything to happen to this child but… He stared down at the baby snuggled soundly in his arms and he could never imagine anyone hurting her.

But he knew the angels would, especially if it was to punish him. Dark thoughts started to haunt him of what would happen once they found out. They never said directly he couldn’t have more children so maybe this time they would give him a direct warning? Or most likely they would just kill his baby…or possibly even Charlie to send a message.

There was an even higher possibility of them just killing both. And though Lucifer hated him self for it for a brief moment he contemplated Just ridding him self of the problem entirely to protect Charlie from the potential risk.

Cute little eyes look up at him as the little girl opens her eyes for the first time, and in that moment Lucifer knew he could never forsake this child, his baby. “They won’t.” He says rocking the baby in his arms his eyes filled with resolve. “They won’t ever know about her.” Lilith looks at him her eyes furrowed yet words seem to leave her as just by looking at him she can tell he’s made his choice. “And your sure that’s the best option? Won’t it caused even more trouble if they find out we hid this from them?”

“We are under no obligation to report to them when we have children. If we hadn’t announced Charlie’s birth they wouldn’t have known about her existence either. She is not the heir to the throne so there is no need to officially announce her birth.” Lucifer states walking over to the window and closing the blinds. “And what about Charlie are we going to tell her?” Lilith asks. “No, she’s more than 100 years old now while I'm sure she would be happy to have a sibling it’s not like they would be growing up together. Besides you know how she is I’m sure she would protest about her sister not being officially recognized.”

Lilith approaches Lucifer and tries to take the small girl but Lucifer pulls away. “You had gotten to raise Charlotte. I-I just…I want to be a real father to her. I want to protect her I don’t want her to have to suffer in this place, I want her to have better than this…” He says with a sad smile. Lilith eyes narrow and she looks away and with a heavy sigh she turns away from the two. “Fine. That’s fair I had Charlotte you have this one…”

“Y/N”

Lilith looks back momentarily. “What?” “Y/N it’s there name.” Lucifer says looking down at Y/N as if she was the only thing in the world. Lilith holds back from grabbing the baby in his arms she knew he would never hurt the small girl. Yet she could feel her heart dropping to her stomach as she watched the two. “I…it’s a Beautiful name.” She says before walking out of the room feeling as if she was running away.

Liliths and Lucifer’s relationship had been on the decline ever since Charlie was born and with the birth of Y/N it was pretty much over. Not that Lucifer didn’t love his wife he still loved her even if now every time she looked at him he could see a hint of discussed in her eyes. Even if they had moved to separate wings of the palace and she no longer made attempts at seeing Y/N as if it pained her to see her child confined. It was fine, he still loved her and as for Y/N he would just give her twice as much love to make up for Lilith.

“Daddy, Daddy! Look it’s a giant duck!” Y/N says with excitement looking at the Duck shaped boats. Lucifer smiled at the girl patting her head he had taken her to the private amusement park LuLu world he had made for Charlie. It was her 6th birthday today and though it was difficult for him to let her leave the palace he made an exception just for this one day. After all soon she would have all the space to run around as her heart desired. “Would you like to go on the ride?” He asked adoring the wide smile that lit up on Y/Ns face. He thought it was extra adorable how the wings on her back fluttered with excitement.

He noted he would need to trim them shorter next time as she was hovering a little to high off the ground for his tastes. It pained him to trim her wings so short, he would’ve at least wanted to wait until she was a little older but her wings just grew so fast… Ah! He Caught himself in his thoughts. Soon there would be no need to trim them anymore and he could just imagine teaching his little girl how to fly.

Lucifer let Y/N run around to her hearts content going on rides or looking around it wasn’t long before she had tired her self out. “Daddy?” Y/N said gently tugging on his coattail. “Can you carry me?” She whined and he obliged picking her up letting her rest her head on his sholder gently rubbing her back. Y/N looked up at the blood red sky towards the white shining sphere surrounded by clouds.

“Daddy what’s that up in the sky? Is it a Castle?”

Lucifer chuckled at the question. “No dear it’s heaven. It looks very beautiful doesn’t it? It’s where all the angels live and pure souls live. But no matter how beautiful it may look it’s rotten inside and it rots everything it touches until it’s a shell of its self and rotten too.” he says gently holding her cheek brushing his thumb over her cheek. “And if they can’t do that they try to destroy whatever they can’t rot.” He presses his forehead to Y/Ns holding her close to him. “They would want to do the same to you. But daddy would never let that happen to you.”

Y/N looks up at him with heavy eyes fighting to stay open. “Sleep. When you wake up you won’t have to worry about heaven ever again.” With a smile he looks at Y/N rubbing her cheek as sleep finely takes her. “I won’t allow my precious baby to suffer in this place with all these filthy sinners.” He snaps his fingers a portal opening up he steps through revealing an entire galaxy, stepping onto a floating planet completely barren. But It wasn’t for long as he wills a tree to form lush green leaves and beautiful flowers sprouting the roots forming in a thick dip allowing him to place Y/N in the middle.

“You don’t need heavens false paradise when you have me. Daddy will make a paradise so large and grand you won’t even know it’s a cage.” He conjures soft blankets and pillows making sure she was comfortable. He turned to the vast empty land and cracked his hands and smirks he had a lot of work to do

#platonic yandere #yandere hazbin hotel #Yandere hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel platonic #yandere lucifer morningstar #Yandere Lucifer Morningstar x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #yandere x reader #yandere platonic

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bucknastysbabe · 4 months ago

Note

For king aeg and his smutty angst...

What about a forced/arranged marriage (potentially a team black lady/princess kept by the greens and made to marry aeg?). Of course, she absolutely supports the blacks and therefore hates aegon and the greens. But it's their wedding night, they have to 'do their duty', right?

Brain didn't really come up with anything more than that. It's basically hate sex 😂

ℜ𝔢𝔡 𝔅𝔢𝔡𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 - 𝔄𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 ℑℑ 𝔵 ℌ𝔞𝔩𝔣-𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯!ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

I FINALLY DID IT BABY I HIPEBYOU ENJOY MWAH MWAH MWAH MOTHER LANA ILY AND YOUR GOOD VIBES ALWAYS❤️

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: TW//blood play, Degredation, rough handling, Aegon being a fuckhead, some fighting from her, attempted murder, very toxic. Time skips, Consensual sex, pnv!sex, tiddy sucking, FERAL👹, arranged marriage, tb reader

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @aemondfairy @arcielee @dr-aegon @elaratyrell @fairysluna @jamespotterismydaddy @jacesvelaryons @lovelykhaleesiii @peachysunrize @targaryen-madness @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose

Divider creds: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

You were a hostage by law. You were the younger sister of Rhaenyra. Barely made it past a day when your mother died in the birthing bed while a tourney went on, the Maester’s sure you were to be the boy so dreadfully sought after.

Your sister fought for you to be married elsewhere, perhaps a Celtigar or another Velaryon. Viserys had his mind set on uniting his two different lines of progeny.

Therefore you were betrothed to Aegon, born a mere two years after you. It wasn’t on the forefront of your mind as a child, shadowing Rhaenyra for comfort. In a way, she was the motherly figure you had lost. That was more important than some silly thing that would occur far, far away.

Soon she reached her wedding when you were nine. Life grew tumultuous after that. The ever-present Ser Criston was gone and soon replaced by Laenor and Ser Harwin. Rhaenyra had her first child, Jacaerys. You remember holding him and cooing. He was perfect, yet you were not dumb, the babe’s dark hair was frighteningly similar to Ser Harwin's.

By your six and tenth nameday— you faced being surrounded by your other side of the family, aptly named the Greens for their colors of Hightower. After the tragic fight at Driftmark, Alicent quickly sequestered you off. You had wept and torn at your dresses, Ser Criston holding you back with a stiff arm and stiffer face. Your full blood, the only true connection, left on ships and dragons. Your father didn’t seem to even care, too sickly and worn down.

You’d spat at Alicent, “I hate you.”

She shook her head and sighed, “In due time you will thank me. You’ll be a queen.”

Shoving yourself off of Ser Cole, you glared at the man. He spoke, quiet but brutal, “Consider yourself lucky staying back. Wouldn’t want to get caught up in other affairs.” He earned a sharp retort, to which the queen scoffed and you stormed off.

Alone. To be utterly alone.

That was what the next few months encompassed. You were a ghost in a lively keep. Aegon began to peek his unkempt blonde hair around the same time, the prince growing into a young man. He’d already gained a reputation for an insatiable thirst for wine and women— at the mere age of fourteen.

“So will you be eager to bed me? I have quite the experience,” he said. Aegon sat sprawled on the settee across from your seat, nursing some wine. You raised a brow from your needlepoint and hissed, “Oh yes, of course, I cannot wait to have your Flea Bottom-infested cock within my pristine cunt.”

He snorted, red wine dribbling down his plump lips. Aegon grinned, seemingly not phased by your insult. The prince hummed, “How sweet. I’m saying it now, you’ll come to love it.” A rip tore through the air— startling you both. Your eyes peered down at the needlepoint. You’d grown so annoyed you ripped the fine fabric.

Eyes flicking up to Aegon you barked, “Out of here! Now!”

He scurried away, giggling, promising, “Our wedding is going to be fantastic, my lovely blackened heart!”

You grimaced, standing up to dust your gray dress off. Rhaenyra had kept a line of letter with you— urging you to kill Aegon in his sleep or abscond to Dragonstone. Peering at the unstable, absolutely lethal Ser Criston Cole standing outside your door, those options seemed impossible.

You were well aware of the threat Aegon held to the claim as the heir. The Hightowers were pushing it into every corner they could, pulling strings, lining coats with Lannister gold. Perhaps once you married the idiot, things would be different.

Using your body and status to change the outcome of a disputed throne seemed too silly. Hatred and frustration began to boil within you from that day forward. To the Seven Hells with your father and the green-blooded Hightower children. You hoped the Stranger would take Alicent and her loyal armed dog too.

Nyserion was in the dragon pit. You never got to see your mount. The queen knew you'd escape if possible. He waited for you, you could feel that much.

No.

You'd not flee.

To face your fate whether in victory or flames was a source of pride. You'd marry the whoreson, be the good princess, and wait for the time to come. You would not be overtly kind, but you’d come off as subdued, no longer the biggest threat to their plans. You would walk the line.

Your hatred for Aegon grew as time wore on in the Red Keep. The wedding had arrived. You remained stone cold kissing Aegon and taking your vows. Aegon was now eight and ten. The lanky boy had grown into a handsome, yet sulky and difficult man. He recently chopped his hair off, another sign of rebellion.

You could understand wanting to be far away. Emptiness filled your chest when the red and black cloak of yours was covered with green and gold. Rhaenyra performed the sacred act, tears in her violet eyes. Your father was too weary to do the damn thing he declared so long ago.

Aegon had whispered, “I hate this too, you know.”

“Good.”

Then the bells rang and you two were back to the mummer’s farce. Smiling and waving getting into the carriage, the small folk cheering- tilting your stomach. Aegon’s face morphed into that sullen look he carried around when he was sober. You slumped back against the cushions, sighing.

His violet eyes bore into your pale blue ones. Aegon sniffed, “I expect to be bedding you tonight. It is my right now.” Crossing your arms, you looked out of the small window. The prince cleared his throat, waiting for an answer.

“As is my duty, lord husband,” you sneered.

Aegon giggled— that annoying shriek of his. You lashed out, “Glad that is an entertaining topic for you. Go back to your whores once you've done the deed.”

“Maybe. I have to make sure I get an heir off of you. Gods forbid you're anything like your mother.”

Your vision went red, hopping across the wheelhouse to scratch and claw and scream at Aegon. He gasped in surprise, catching some nails across his pale throat, a part of his hair ripped out. The prince forced you down, holding your arms tight to your chest. He frowned, eyes filled with something.

“I’m sorry, okay, relax, we have to finish this night. Relax!”

You didn’t want to cry, yet the tears fell as you warbled, “You’re cruel. Have some shame.”

He sighed, blonde hair a mess now. Aegon gently helped you back into your seat, ordering you to stay put. He knelt beside you, a big hand touching your shaky knee. Aegon’s eyes seemed to hold some guilt as he murmured, “That was wrong. I…apologize…wife.”

The rest of the ride went in silence, Aegon retreating to his side, poorly attempting to reshape his waves. Neither of you smiled entering the keep to be presented to everyone. The first dance was a boring affair, you found no reason for happiness. Rhaenyra was the only boon, her hugging you and speaking words of revenge.

“You shall have whoever you wish. He will not be your source of unhappiness. When I am queen.”

You blocked out the rest of her words, milling over the idea of Viserys dead— Aegon being thrust upon the throne. It would be war, all-out war. Nodding blankly, you hugged your sister once again to head back to the table, heart beginning to beat fast.

Aegon was slouched back in his chair, eyes lazily roving around the dancing. He was quite drunk, slurring as he spoke. The prince asked, “Y’wanna finish this shit?”

“Make the call,” you replied.

The drunken prince stood up and roared, “It’s time for the fucking!”

Men cheered, and women squealed. Rhaenyra was held tight by Daemon— his face placid. Alicent was embarrassed by the crass wording, a ringed hand covering her face. Soon men lifted and tore at your clothes, exposing you horridly. Aegon laughed as the ladies rid him of his garments.

The pair of you were thrust into his dark chambers. You bounced once from the way they tossed you, grunting in pain. The feeling of handprints and raw skin sent a shudder down your spine. Aegon flopped onto the bed, mumbling.

“Well?” You asked.

“I don’t want to fuck you. Not yet anyways.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips. The tension leaked out of you as you escaped being groped and defiled by the prince. You thanked him quietly, crawling onto the side of the bed, and covering yourself up. Aegon fiddled around before stating, “I’m going to sleep, too drunk to get it up.”

You don’t know why you cried when his breathing turned into a soft snore. Maybe all the emotions boiling over. Soon the tears turned to anger, pissed off from how callous and awful he was. How he would steal the throne. The very image of everything that held you to this gilded cage full of spiders and snakes.

The thought came to you. Lying naked in his chamber, eyes roving around the strange whips and discarded wine bottles. You lit a candle, Aegon dead to the world in his drunken state. You peered around his room, finding a display of carved cocks and plugs of sorts at the end of the bed, frowning. Deviant.

You walked further, stopping as a sharp pain nicked your big toe. Picking your foot up with a hiss, a piece of glass was lodged in the flesh. With a grimace and grunt you pulled it out, eyes trailing up to the broken mirror, smashed to bits. Cornflower eyes scanned the shards.

You peered over your shoulder to the sleeping Aegon, disheveled, shirt off. He almost looked innocent, spared your maidenhead after all. But the shard spilling his blood…seemed all too good. The claw marks from earlier reminded you of what he was. Take the potential usurper heir, one less dragon to deal with. You wouldn’t have his spawn. Your sister was the true queen.

Slowly grabbing a shard, maddened Targaryen bloodlust rising, you crawled atop the bed. Closer and closer you crept, straddling his hips, eyes full of fury. Aegon smiled, eyes closed, plump lips curling upward, “Ah, I told you I’d sway your blackened heart one day. You want something, wife?”

Your hand began to shake as you realized the severity of what you could do. What would happen? Aegon stirred as he didn’t hear your response, violet eyes meeting your own before noting the thick glass. You spat, “I can’t allow this.”

Aegon’s eyes flashed with something besides apathy or sick humor. He was angry. You tried to move, Aegon sending the glass flying with the spatter of blood across your pristine shift. He growled, shoving and pushing you onto your belly.

“Are you that stupid? I always thought you to be more shrewd than that display. Stabbing me in my sleep…You’d be burnt before I bled out, whore.”

You bucked against him, spitting, “You’re a future usurper, a drunk, and a whoreson, your face fills me with rage! I fucking hate this Aegon.” He laughed as he ran his bloody hand down your cheek.

He sighed, a terrifying edge to his usual easy, lackadaisical nature.

“Kind words, dear wife, you think I want to be king? Like I want to rule? Your cunt sister can have it, I have no taste for it.” Aegon readjusted himself, lips almost caressing your skin.

“You’re a bitter little bitch you know that? I didn’t choose this, be mad at our father!” He laughed again, wide grin and sharp teeth glinting in the low light. Aegon’s hand spilled blood onto your nightgown as he whispered into your ear, acrid venom dripping.

“You can be mad all you want, spurn me, I don’t care. But you’re going to learn to deal with me, take my seed, and never pull such idiocy like this ever again!” You grunted in pain as Aegon’s thick fingers curled around your throat.

His plush lips caressed your ear, “That’s reasonable isn’t it dear wife? I’m not a monster. Perhaps you should look in the mirror.” He picked up the shard again, your bloodied face and hateful eyes in the reflection, Aegon grinning. Tears welled up at your nigh unrecognizable face.

He threw it away, still holding your throat, silver hair tickling your pulsing neck. Aegon hummed, “Now promise me. You're going to be a good little wife and take my seed, then no more nonsense.”

You nodded, choking out a ‘yes’!

Aegon let go, you falling to the side to hold your neck, breathing in harsh pants. He looked over you, eyes calculating, dark. You shucked off the bloodied shift, throwing it to the side. He raised a brow. “What’s this?”

You pushed him backward, nails digging into his pale shoulders. Aegon grinned, hands coming around to rest on your hips, smearing more blood, something about it was primal and arousing— the tacky feeling, iron in the air.

Disgusting anger filled you, anger at your own body betraying you, anger at his snarky face, and anger at the whole fucking lot of dragon seed in this Keep. It made you unbearably aroused in a sick way, seeking to fuck the anger out, the anger made you want carnal pain. Aegon is a piece of shit but he could provide that.

Leaning forward, breasts pushed to him, you sneered, “Yes, lord husband, I’ll do my duty. Take your cock and seed as you see fit. No better than I, you’ve thought about it before.”

“Wringing the life out of that slim neck, watching that haughty look of yours fall off your face? Magnificent.”

You huffed a laugh at that, feeling his full prick swell against your bare cunt. Sealing your lips over his puffy ones, it was a battle of teeth and tongue. More blood spilled from your lip as he bit at it, lapping it up as you moaned, squirming atop him.

Aegon smacked your ass, sucking and nibbling your jaw as he murmured, “Gods you're an uppity bitch, yet I've wanted to fuck you for so long now.” He nipped at your neck again, moving down to pop a nipple in his mouth, moving you around.

You moaned in delight, arching and rolling your hips along his shaft, earning his noises, and stimulating your sensitive buds further. Yanking on his hair you breathed, “I didn't want to catch a disease from you, but you've grown comely, little brother.

The blonde pinched your other nipple roughly, popping off with a string of drool. Aegon grinned. “That’s the closest thing I've gotten of a compliment for you. No diseases I’m aware of, I pay fine money for my whores.” He smacked your ass again— sharp and loud as you cried out.

“You want to ride my cock dearest? Have your illusion of control?”

“Fuck you.”

He shrieked in laughter as you rose, slick cunt dripping. Your toned thighs, thick with muscle from dragon riding, lowered upon his prick. You bit back the guttural noise forced out of your throat, his prick tearing and bullying its way into your untouched cunt.

Aegon groaned, his hands digging into your hips as you panted, feeling blood join your slick. With a harsh pant, you leaned forward again, hands on his shoulders as you rode Aegon’s thick cock, the sight of blood and slick making his eyes shine.

He growled, “That’s a good princess, you’re mine now, such a little freak, getting all hot from blood and pain. A true Targaryen aren’t you, angry, vicious cunts.” He moaned when you slapped him, splitting his puffy lip. Crashing your lips against his, you lapped it up, slipping your tongue to mix with his.

He met you halfway, cock spearing you as you rolled down in quick jerks, nothing pretty. It was raw, grunts and rough slaps filling the room. Aegon’s big hand cracked down on your ass, your eyes rolling up as he dominated the kiss.

He panted against your lips.

“Gods— you’re fucking divine. Should’ve known you’d like it like this. Hard and fast, bloody, like some degenerates in those houses on the edge of the Street of Silk. I oughta take you some time. We can fuck someone together, hm?”

Your hips stuttered at the thought, mouth falling open to groan his name, gargling out a ‘fuck yes!’ Aegon grinned, groaning as you rode him harder, tits bouncing as you forced his thick length deeper. Your pussy was dragging and pulsing, wanting more and more, tightening.

The prince’s back arched as his cock pulsed, grunting your name as he shivered. He was close as you, groaning, “Good fucking wife, yes, gonna stuff you full of seed, take you out before you have to sit around and let me stuff you with more— our godsdamned babe. Want that?”

You nodded, hips moving at a breakneck pace, pleading, “Yes, yes, let’s take the town, show me, show me before I’m stuck to this wretched godsdamned keep. I’m your only cunt then, fit for you to fuck.”

He grew breathier at the idea, greedy hands massaging and plucking at your tits, lips biting and nipping your neck while groaning. You felt a jolt from him, Aegon crying out huskily as he emptied into you, forcing you onto your back as he fucked his seed into you with loud squelches.

You cried out, back arching at the sensation, the flood of hot gush drawing your climax out, milking Aegon further, begging him to fuck you more, the prince whining until a second one hit you, lurid squelching filling the room as he chanted your name, falling forward as you writhed and squeezed him, about to rip his pretty hair out.

Silence finally fell over the room save panting.

You knew there was a method of waiting, waiting until the seed could take. blood and cum were tacky on your body. He finally relented, pulling out with a sweet peck, hissing. You made a soft noise as your cunt leaked his spend, chest heaving.

Aegon laid on his back next to you. He smiled his little smile, lips puffed and lip-sided from busting the bottom. He splayed a hand over your belly, laughing, “And what a claim this will be, huh?”

Dread filled you once again. But with his babe in your belly, you could swing some leeway. With a hoarse chuckle, you replied, “Indeed a claim it is. I think it’s all over us.”

He laughed again, eyes sparkling, “Eh, I thought it would be worse.”

Could it?

#asks answered #mama Lana💜🦇#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #Aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii smut

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