#bonus picture 18

[dunkelfuerstin]

Enjoying Winter

[lubdubology]

When Things Turn Green Again

SYNOPSIS: Hoping to mend the pain of your broken heart and bury the memory of your failed marriage, you turn towards the woods. A cabin was left in your name and it’s the exact distraction you were looking for. What you didn’t anticipate is meeting a quiet, ruggedly handsome man along the way who helps you heal.

PAIRING: Logan x fem!reader

WC: 11k

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; mentions of cheating/divorce; emotional trauma; fluff; sexual innuendos; brief mentions of drinking; dirty talk; slight dom!Logan; oral (f receiving); fingering; doggy style; cock warming; sex with feelings; unprotected p in v

A/N: I pictured either Origins!Logan or Wolverine!Logan, but I think you can envision any Logan you’d prefer. And again thanks to @joelsgoldrush for the support through writing this ❤️ I really do love this piece I wrote and I hope you do too. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! And thank you to everyone who has read, commented, liked and reblogged both Soft Edges and Til The Sun Turns Black—I never imagined either of those stories reaching over 1k notes.

The gravel crunches under your tires as you roll down the long driveway. Memories bloom deep in your chest as you near the cabin, of times simpler than this, unburdened by trappings of real life. You spent your formative years out here in the woods with your grandfather. Summers spent learning how to fish on the lake; how to recognize the poisonous berries from the nonpoisonous ones; and making fires, roasting marshmallows long after the sun had gone down. 

Your grandfather had helped build this cabin. He’d always preferred the outdoors and solitude from people—with the obvious exception of your grandmother and mother—and he’d often come here to escape. Especially after he lost them both. 

The cabin comes into view through the trees just starting to unfurl their spring foliage. Patches of snow still dot the landscape but the wet brown of winter is losing to spring’s verdant hues. The structure has seen better days, last having been lived in over ten years ago. 

A stab of regret pierces your chest. The cabin was willed to you when your grandfather died, but this was your first trip up here since the funeral. You planned to, of course, but as the old saying goes, life happened. Now, you’re hoping the old place can give you something to sink your energy into besides thinking about your failed marriage. 

You park the truck and step out, surveying the property. The shrubs and flower beds are overgrown and choked with old growth and weeds. Years worth of leaves rest upon the roof and clog the gutters. The front porch has several loose or missing spindles and you’re almost afraid to step up onto the old boards. Proving yourself right, the wood groans and creaks beneath your feet, certain spots threatening to give way.

“That’s going to be a fun project,” you mutter to yourself.

Opening the front door, you’re met with the damp mustiness of a long closed up space. A layer of dust seems to coat nearly every surface and cobwebs linger in the corners. You’re hoping the repairs needed inside the cabin are more cosmetic than costly.

You open up the old blinds, letting the early morning light filter in the room. It’s not a large space, an open kitchen, living room and dinning area with separate bedroom and attached bathroom. A small set of steps leads up to a loft, which also doubles as a sleeping space or bonus area.

You unload your belongings from the truck, tucking them away inside the bedroom, before opening all the windows to let in the fresh air. Thankfully, the glass and protective screens are in relatively good repair—a few need replacing, but an easy enough job. You feel a sense of purpose flourish within you, something you haven’t felt for months and you wonder if this is just the reprieve you need to find yourself again.

+++

You spend the morning taking inventory of the repairs needed around the cabin to make it immediately livable. Jotting down a list of supplies, you hop in your truck and head into town to hit up the hardware store. 

The owner, George, recognizes you from previous trips with your grandfather when you were younger. He greets you warmly and helps you find everything you need. As you’re checking out, he asks, “Run into Logan yet?”

“Logan?”

He nods his head. “Shares a property line with you. Has a cabin of his own just about a quarter mile north of yours. Asked him to keep his eye out on the place.”

“Oh, well, that was nice of him,” you comment, stuffing your receipt in your purse. 

George shrugs. “Figured it would give him something different to do. Doesn’t interact much with people.”

“Guess I’ll just have to introduce myself then,” you say, lifting your bags up off the checkout counter. 

“Good luck with that,” George responds with a huffed laugh. “He’s not one for small talk.” 

You give George a polite smile and leave the store, bags in hand. But the conversation sparks your curiosity and you find yourself thinking of the man who shares the woods with you. You promised yourself once you were settled, you’d make the short hike towards his place and introduce yourself.

Arriving back at the cabin, you park the truck and hop out, stopping short when you spot a lone figure walking around from the back of your property. You can’t stop the prickle of anxiety that zips up your spine as the figure comes closer, but he doesn’t see you yet, his eyes on the ground as he walks.

You shut the truck door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing off the trees. He looks up then and you suck in a short breath as his rugged features come into view—well trimmed but scruffy beard, wild dark hair and a fit muscular frame you can see even under the flannel of his shirt.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach and you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt like this. You can feel a blush creep across your face and you grip the bags in your hands tighter just to feel something other than the hammering of your heart in your chest.

He stops short of where you’re standing and jerks a thumb behind him. “Turned your electrical breaker on,” he says without introduction and you can only stare at him.

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I, uh—thanks.”

He tilts his head and looks at you and you feel like you’re on fire under his glare. It’s an inquisitive one, like he can’t quite figure out what you’re doing in a place like this and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. And yet, you don’t want him to stop looking at you. 

“Right,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for something. He fishes out a key and holds it in your direction. “This is yours.”

You shift the bags, so you’re holding them all in one hand and reach for the key. Your fingertips brush against his just briefly, but it’s enough to set sparks along your skin and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. As he steps back from you, you blurt out your name and then immediately wish for a swift death at your awkwardness. 

God, this was embarrassing. 

It’s like you’ve never interacted with humans before.

He gives the barest hint of a smile. “Logan.”

“Nice to meet you, Logan,” you say, just so you can taste his name in your mouth.

Logan nods and turns to head down the path that leads away from your cabin and deeper into the woods. You watch him go, his figure fading further into the distance and you can’t help but think, I’m in trouble. 

+++

You spend the rest of the day keeping busy around the cabin—wiping down dusty surfaces, sweeping up cobwebs, replacing broken light bulbs—but your mind never strays far from Logan and the inexplicable pull you have towards him. 

You’ve dated. You were married. You weren’t a stranger to the opposite sex and physical attraction, but this felt like more. Like an unavoidable pull between you and him and you’ve just been spun into his orbit. 

And that attraction terrifies you. 

Over the next few days, you try and shove him from your mind. It helps that you haven’t seen him again, but your eyes inevitably dart towards the path leading away from your cabin as if you’re expecting him to come walking through. 

Then, the idea comes to you late one night as you’re sitting in front of the fire, watching the flames lick higher. No matter how hard you had tried, Logan remained firmly planted in your mind, his roots stubborn and unyielding. 

Your grandfather always said your grandmother’s cooking was always something that warmed his heart. 

But as you walk the small path towards Logan’s property you briefly wonder if you’ve lost your mind. You carry the small pie dish in your hands and as his cabin grows closer you’re actually contemplating turning back and forgetting the whole thing.

Who the hell bakes pies for people any more?

His cabin is smaller than yours, a little more rustic and worn, which seems fitting based on the little you know about him. Several piles of firewood line the roofed porch and at the opposite end, a single chair and table sit in front of the window. With one last shaky inhale, you climb the steps and rap your knuckles against the door. From inside you hear heavy footfalls and then the door opens.

Logan looks down at you and then towards the dish in your hands, an odd expression crossing his handsome features.

“I made you a pie,” you blurt unceremoniously and you instantly wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Logan just continues to stare at you and you think you see the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. But maybe not.

“I, uh, my grandfather lived in the cabin next to yours and it’s mine now. I’m fixing it up, because…well, just because and he taught me to pick berries as a kid? So, I did that and I made you this,” you finish in a ramble, flames of embarrassment licking across your skin.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes flick down at the dish in your hands again and you hold it up a bit higher, nudging it closer towards him. As he reaches out to take it, his fingers brush against yours and you again feel electricity tingle down your fingertips. If he notices it too, he says nothing, not that he’s said anything since you showed up on his porch. 

Logan tucks the dish closer to his body and gives you a slight nod. You take that as a good sign and step back to leave. “Okay, cool, cool. Well, um, enjoy. I made sure all he berries were the edible ones so you don’t end up throwing up everywhere.”

At that he actually huffs a chuckle. “Good to know,” he finally says, his voice warm and rich and just a bit gruff.

“Right, well, enjoy!” You turn to leave and can feel his stare against your back and it takes all your remaining functioning brain cells to walk normally.

You spend the next few days trying to forget all about your ill-fated attempt to play neighbor, figuring if he didn’t want to know you before, he definitely didn’t after that. 

You’re coming back from a hike when you spot Logan through the trees walking away from your place, hands tucked deep within his pockets. Your heart quickens in your chest as you walk up to the front door and find the baking dish sitting on the old welcome mat. It’s freshly washed with a folded up piece of paper sitting inside—Thank you.

You’re certain your smile could rival the light from the sun.

+++

It becomes a routine over the next few weeks—you bringing him food and him returning the dish, all without exchanging any words. You’re thankful he’s not much of a talker because you can’t seem to stop making a fool of yourself around him. 

And you don’t know why. 

He’s a handsome man, that anyone can see, but you’ve never been so flustered around a beautiful man before.

There’s something else about Logan you can’t pinpoint that sets your heart fluttering behind your ribs. He seems lonely in the same way you are, and you wonder if he’s out here to lick and heal old wounds just like you. You have an inexplicable want to help him, even if that means sharing your food leftovers with him and trying to chip away at the wall that surrounds him. 

A part of you is hoping he can help break down your walls, too. 

You’re waist deep under the kitchen sink when a knock on the door drags you from fixing the leaking drain. 

“Ah, fuck,” you curse, trying to maneuver out of the space while also not spilling the stagnant water left in the sink trap. As you set the old drain down you call out, “Just a second!”

You wipe your hands against your thighs and swing the door open to find Logan standing there, your glass baking dish from yesterday in his hands. For a second you blink silently at him, unable to think of anything but the fact that you’re wearing grease stained overalls and probably smell like a swamp. 

“Logan, hi,” you finally say, brushing your hair out of your face. 

He gives you a strange look as he hands the dish back to you. You open your mouth to speak when he interrupts you, “Why do you feed me?”

His question hangs in the air and you freeze. Of all the things he could have asked, you weren’t sure why you didn’t expect that one. His voice is a little gruff, but underneath there’s something that makes your heart race. Something vulnerable. 

You swallow and grip the edge of the glass dish. Logan stares at you, his gaze intense, and you feel exposed. Like he’s trying to dissect you with just a look. 

“Oh, well, I don’t know,” you finally admit. “You just…seem like you could use some kindness.”

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything else. The silence stretches between you, heavy and charged, and you can feel your pulse quicken. “I can stop if—if you want.”

“No,” he says, his voice rough, but with an undercurrent of tenderness. “No, you don’t have to stop. Just not used to people doin’ things like that for me.”

His admission catches you off guard being the first real piece of personal information he’s shared with you. You’ve gleaned certain things from George—he’s told you about Logan being a mutant and a few pieces of his past—but you know there’s still a world of history hiding behind his loner facade that he keeps hidden. You’re hoping eventually he lets you take a peak inside.

“Everyone deserves kindness, Logan,” you say. 

His gaze flickers, a shadow of something crossing his features that makes your heart ache. He shifts on his feet and stares down at the dish in your hands. “I’m not so sure of that,” he replies. 

“Well, I am.”

Logan’s eyes drag back up to yours and you try to calm the nervous energy that bubbles under your skin as his stare presses into you. He gives you a small nod then before turning to leave. 

He pauses as he hits your driveway and looks back at you, cursing lowly to himself. Scratching at the back of his head, he walks back up the steps and pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket. “I, uh, here,” he says uncertainly as he hands you the small cloth bag. 

You can only stare as you take the bag from him, the gift surprisingly light in your hand, but the gesture heavy with unspoken emotion. Your mind races as you think of what could be inside and your heart hammers loudly in your chest. 

Logan stands there, eyes not quite meeting yours as he waits for you to open it. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo the drawstrings and peer inside, finding a mixture of different seeds. You can’t help but trail your fingers through them, feeling the faint warmth they hold from where they were nestled against Logan’s body. 

“Oh, Logan,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. 

You glance up at him and he’s looking at you, scratching at his beard, the faintest hint of blush staining his cheeks. “They’re wildflowers. Don’t know what kind. But, I dunno. I thought you could use them for your garden.” 

Your chest tightens as you pull the strings close and tuck the bag in your pocket. “I love them, Logan,” you say, offering him a smile. “Thank you.”

For a moment, you see the tension in his shoulders relax just a bit as he exhales. “Just seemed like something you’d appreciate,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. 

Something has shifted between you and you find yourself itching to touch him, but you don’t. Not yet. The thread holding you two together is there, but thin, and you don’t want it to fray. “I really do appreciate it,” you say softly, stepping just the tiniest bit closer. 

Logan nods and his mouth tugs into something that’s not quite a smile, but close. He looks at you for a long moment, the weight of his gaze pressing into you. “Okay. Good.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turns and jogs down the steps. 

“Guess I’ll see you around then,” you call after him, a smile spreading across your face. 

He glances back over his shoulder. “Yeah. I guess you will.”

And maybe, just maybe, the walls around him are beginning to crumble. 

+++

Sweat beads across your brow as you work, but you pay it no heed. Your attention keeps slipping to Logan as you pry another nail loose from the rotted board. You’ve fallen into an odd relationship with the elusive man whose property line you share, yet you still barely know anything about him.

It’s been a week since he stopped by and gave you those wildflower seeds. A warmth still spreads in your chest when you think about it. And true to his promise, you do see him around, albeit not as much as you’d like. He seems wary, as if his gift opened up a part of himself he wasn’t ready for you to see.

But at least he doesn’t drop off your clean dishes and run anymore. 

As you pry the last nail free, the rotten board comes free and you toss it down onto the grass along with the others. Thankfully, the porch isn’t terribly large and you figure another hour or so to remove the remaining boards before you can start laying down fresh lumber. 

The crunch of gravel pulls you from your work and you look up to find Logan walking down the path, a large leather bag in his hand. You look up at him, wiping the sweat off your brow and lean back onto your heels, trying your best not to stare at his forearms.

“Oh, hey, Logan,” you say, wiping your hands against your jeans as you stand. “What brings you to my side of the woods?”

He actually smiles at you and nods towards the porch. “Need help?”

You hate the little flutter you feel pressing against your ribs. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, it’s good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering.”

You blink, caught off guard by his directness. “Oh, well, if you insist,” you say, trying to calm your nerves. “It would be nice to have a second set of hands.”

He sets the leather bag down on the porch with a thud and you catch a glimpse of the tools nestled inside. Logan notices you looking and comments, “I know a few things.” His smirk makes your legs feel like jello. 

“Oh, I bet you know a lot of things,” you blurt, and your eyes widen at the double entendre of your words, heat flushing across your face. 

Logan laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Well, it’s always good to be well educated,” he says with a wink.

Fuck, you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust. 

Shoving down your raging embarrassment, you lay out your plan to fix the porch and Logan gives a small nod. He starts at the opposite end, prying loose the first board with ease. You try not to stare at the way his muscles move and how his skin begins to slick with the first beads of sweat. You work in silence for a while, the only sounds those of the forest around you. 

“So, what actually brought you out here?” Logan finally asks. 

You glance over at him and watch as he tosses another board onto the grass. He looks at you expectantly and you sigh. “I got divorced,” you answer honestly. “And I needed something pour my energy into other than wondering where the fuck I went wrong.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your openness leaving you feeling raw, and instead focus on the board in front of you. Anger begins to simmer in your veins at the thought of the last couple of years and you grab the next plank with just enough force to wedge a splinter deep into your palm. A loud curse falls from your lips as you drop the board. 

You feel Logan next to you and you suck in a deep breath as he reaches for your hand, his fingers curling around yours. “Lemme see,” he says, pulling you close and you can smell the earthiness of him, like damp soil and campfire smoke. You find yourself staring at him, his proximity intoxicating, as you drink in his long lashes and the slope of his nose. 

He tilts your palm towards himself, his fingers pressing gently yet with firm enough pressure to push the splinter out of your skin. Pulling it out the rest of the way, his eyes flick up to yours. “Somehow I don’t think you’re the one that fucked up, sweetheart.” His voice is warm and you want to melt into him. 

“Well,” you start, clearing your throat, “I certainly wasn’t fucking his mistresses.” 

Something in his eyes darkens and a shiver runs down your spine. “He’s a fool for losin’ you,” he growls, and his words hit you with more force than you’d care to admit. 

His hand still lingers on yours, steady and reassuring and warm and for a moment you think he might lean closer. You desperately want him to. To press his mouth against yours, to feel his breath against your skin, to have his taste against your tongue. But he pulls back, his expression one of thin control, but you can see the storm behind his gaze. 

“A damn fool,” he mutters under his breath and you can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about himself or your ex. 

Logan lets your hand go, turning back towards the porch and you mourn the loss, your skin still tingling from the contact. You swallow hard, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. It’s Logan—quiet, gruff Logan, who never really sticks around for a real conversation and yet here he is, offering help and showing that maybe he’s not entirely as unaffected by you as you thought. 

Your heartbeat drums in your ears as you watch him go back to work, prying up the next board, his muscles flexing beneath his worn shirt. His jaw clenches and there’s a focused determination in his movements and you can’t tell if he’s working out some anger or trying to keep himself in check.

You work in silence for several more minutes, the only sounds being the prying of loose boards and creaking lumber. There’s a tension between you now, more so than there was before, something palpable. 

It’s enough to drive you mad.

“What about you?” you finally ask, your voice somewhat hesitant. “You don’t talk about yourself much.”

Logan glances at you from the corner of his eye and his brow furrows, as if he’s weighing whether or not to answer. “Not much to tell,” he grunts, pulling up another board with more force than necessary.

“Somehow, I doubt that. You don’t just wake up one day alone in the woods with forearms like that.” 

Logan looks over at you and smirks. “Maybe I’m just really good with my hands.” His voice dips low and you can’t help the warmth that pools low in your belly at his words.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, no…yep. I’m starting to figure that out.”

He’s silent for a few moments as he goes back to work and the air between you hums with something charged. “You really want to know?” he asks, his voice rough. “I’ve been around for too long, longer than anyone should. Done things I’m not proud of.” He tosses another plank aside and all you can do it watch him. “I’ve…I’ve hurt people I care about. People I’ve cared about have hurt me. I’m not really sure I belong anywhere, so I just…drift.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something broken and vulnerable, and it catches you off guard. For all his outward strength, there’s man deep down inside who’s lost, and your heart aches for him.

“You belong here,” you say softly. 

He doesn’t look at you, but you can feel the tension shift as the weight of your words settle between you. Another board gets tossed aside. “Yeah, maybe.”

He finally raises his gaze to yours and for a moment the world quiets—the forest, the porch, all of it—as his eyes lock onto yours and his expression softens. You offer him a warm smile and then return back to the porch, hesitant to push him any further. 

You work comfortably together after that. The old boards removed, Logan helps you place and nail down the new ones. Your conversation is limited to the project, but you don’t mind. 

As Logan packs up his tools, you glance over at him. “Thank you.”

A half smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome,” comes his reply as he steps off the porch and heads down the path back towards his cabin. 

“Logan!” you call, lightly jogging after him before he slips out of view. He pauses and turns back towards you. “Can I make you dinner?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Haven’t you already been doin’ that?”

“No,” you say shaking your head, “I mean, yes, I have, but like a proper dinner? Fresh from kitchen to table. I can come by you, if you’d like.”

Logan studies you for a moment, his gaze intense and you can feel your heart beating against your ribs. He’s silent for so long you wonder if you’ve overstepped and you open your mouth to speak when he says, “Alright. Come by tomorrow, six o’clock.”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “Tomorrow it is.”

+++

You’re up before the sun, your nerves a tangle of raw edges. You lay there, staring at the ceiling  and wondering what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into. 

You weren’t expecting to meet someone out here in the woods. You were hoping for tranquility, a distraction to quiet the voice in your head that kept nagging you for how your life veered off course. That maybe if you worked more, did more, loved more you wouldn’t be a thirty year old divorcee. 

Instead, you find a mysterious man who sparks within you a flame you long thought extinguished. A ruggedly handsome man who’s somehow wormed his way into your life and has you wondering if maybe he can’t help mend the pieces of your broken heart. 

Except you don’t know if that same spark is ignited within him and if his gesture of dinner is simple kindness. A response to the kindness you’ve shown him over the last two months or if he’s feeling that same attraction you do. 

God, you hope he does. 

You spend the morning cleaning, trying to pour your nervous energy into something productive other than worrying about what the evening may bring. Driving into town, you agonize over what to make even though he’s been eating what you’ve made without complaint for weeks now. You opt to keep it simple—pasta with homemade meat sauce, a nice loaf of bread and a couple bottles of wine. 

While the sauce is simmering on the stove you get ready. You dress for comfort, a simple pair of leggings and a flowy top that hangs slightly off your shoulders.  You catch your reflection in the mirror and give yourself a silent nod of encouragement. Despite this just being dinner, the night brims with the possibility of maybe something more. 

Once the food is prepared, you carefully pack everything in a large basket and begin the walk to Logan’s cabin. The night is cool, but still holds the warmth of day and the promise of summer to come. You feel your anticipation heighten the closer you get to his place and your stomach drops when you see it appear up ahead. 

It’s just Logan, you remind yourself. 

Stepping up onto his porch, you give a hesitant knock at the door. He greets you almost instantly and you suck in a deep breath. Logan looks good and your heart does a flip as you take him in—well fitting jeans, a clean white shirt underneath a soft red flannel button down, his hair is still slightly damp from a shower. 

“You’re early,” he comments, standing aside to let you in. You catch the slight frown tug at his mouth as he notices the basket. “You coulda cooked here, you know.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t know if you’d want me invading your space,” you reply, following him deeper into the cabin and setting the basket down on the counter. 

Logan turns back towards you, bracing his hands against the counter. “I don’t mind you in my space.”

His words hang in the air between you and you can feel your pulse quicken. You glance up at him, and the way he’s looking at you—steady and unflinching—sends a thrill down your spine. 

You clear your throat, trying to settle the nerves in your chest. “Next time then,” you say lightly, hoping he can’t hear the slight waver in your voice. 

Logan’s lips quirk into a half smile. “Next time,” he agrees. 

He reaches into a cabinet above him, pulling down a couple of plates and glasses, setting a small table in the corner of the small kitchen. You keep yourself busy unpacking the food, arranging the bread, pasta and sauce on the table, working around him as he uncorks the wine and pours both of you a glass. 

Logan joins you then, raising his glass and clinking it gently against yours. He nods in a silent cheers and tips his head back as he drinks, his eyes never leaving yours. You can’t suppress the shiver that shoots down your spine.

Setting down his glass, he serves you and then himself, commenting, “This smells amazing.”

“Family recipe,” you reply, taking another sip wine. “Remind me to make it for you when I have fresh tomatoes. It’s even better then.”

“I’ll have to do that,” he says with a smile.

Conversation starts off slow, but not awkward, as you both test the limits of what you’re wiling to share. Logan’s answers are often short, reserved, but what he does reveal helps bring into focus the outline of the man before you. An outline you’re hoping he’ll let you fill in.

“George says you’re a mutant,” you start slowly and you don’t miss the way his posture stiffens, his fork scraping harshly against the plate. 

He goes still and you wonder if you fucked up. Crossed a boundary he wasn’t willing to cross.

Eventually, Logan’s eyes flick up to yours and he lets out a small hum. “He did, did he?”

You nod, chewing. “It doesn’t bother me.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “It bothers most people.”

“I’m not most people,” you reply, your voice soft. 

Something in his face softens then, the furrow of his brow a little less pronounced. A slight smile plays at his lips. “No. No you’re not.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest and your face flushes. Taking another bite, you ask, “Can I see?”

Logan studies you for a moment and you can see him deciding whether or not to show you that part of him he’d rather keep hidden. He sets the silverware down and he flexes his fingers before resting his palms back on the table. Then, he unsheathes his claws and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips. 

You see him flinch at your reaction and he goes to retract his claws and you reach for him. “Don’t,” you say, your fingers hovering just above the blades. 

As he relaxes, you gently rest your fingertips against the metal, finding it surprisingly cool but still holding a faint warmth from his body. His eyes drop to where you’re touching him as you slowly begin to trace each blade with your fingers, following the slight curve down to where they emerge from his skin. You look up at him, finding his gaze fixed on you and you shiver under the intensity. 

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper. You feel him shudder beneath you as he retracts his claws, leaving your fingertips nestled against the skin between his knuckles. 

You pull your hand away from his, mourning the loss of his skin against yours. Logan clears his throat and pulls his hands into his lap, glancing down at them as if they’re foreign, something he’s never taken the time to notice before. He flexes his fingers once more before dragging his gaze back to your face.

“Do they hurt?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head. “No. Not anymore.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Thank you for showing me.”

Logan studies you for a long moment, searching your face like he’s trying to figure you out. You know he’s probably not used to this, someone seeing him as something other than a mutant, an aberration, someone who should be hidden away. Then, his face softens.

“People don’t usually ask,” he says quietly.

You smile gently, feeling that flame inside you burn just a bit brighter. “I just want to know you.”

He leans back in his chair, his gaze still steady, but more open, as if some of those invisible walls he surrounds himself with have started to come down. If only just enough to let the light shine through. 

An unspoken tension simmers, thickening the air, and you know he can feel it too, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s heavy with promise. You turn your attention back to your plate and for a few moments, neither of you speak.

“So,” you say after a beat, “Do you ever use them as forks?”

Logan huffs out a laugh, the sound surprising you and his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement. “I can’t say that I have,” he replies with a smile.

You grin. “You should give it a try.”

“If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

The rest of dinner passes with easy conversation and you feel your nerves begin to settle, just a bit. Logan seems less guarded too, more at ease than you’ve ever seen him.

You help him clear the table, ignoring his request that you just sit and relax. As you stand next to him, emptying the leftovers into a container, you feel his eyes on you. When you hand him the container, your fingers brush again, but this time he doesn’t immediately pull away. His fingers linger just a bit longer than necessary and your breath catches in your throat.

“Thanks for dinner, he says quietly, voice low. “And for…understanding.”

You nod, feeling that unmistakable pull between you, the tug that’s kept you orbiting closer and closer to him. “Anytime, Logan,” you answer softly. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he’s been burned before and is still figuring out if he can trust what you’re offering him. And you understand his turmoil, trust having shattered your heart into pieces, pieces you’re still trying to pick up and reshape. 

Logan steps a little bit closer then and before you can say anything else, his hand gently reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is simple but intimate and it sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling lowly in your belly.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let me walk you home.”

He grabs your basket before you can protest and you follow him out into the night. There’s a full moon hanging heavy in the sky, illuminating the path in front of you, yet you remain close to Logan. You curse to yourself as you trip over an exposed root and then you feel Logan reach out for you, his fingers wrapping securely around your own. The heat of his palm against yours is almost overwhelming.

Your cabin comes into view and Logan slows, his fingers slipping from your grasp as he sets the basket down on the porch.

“Good night, Logan,” you say softly as you walk up the steps. 

As you turn from him, he reaches for your wrist, his fingers curling and pressing hotly against your skin. Your breath hitches as he climbs the steps to join you on the porch, and your gasps dies in your throat as he tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his gaze. 

“Do I make you nervous?” His voice is low, breath hot and damp against your skin. 

“Yes,” you breathe, somehow inching closer to him, your fingers reaching for the hem of his flannel and twisting into the fabric. 

“Why?” He brushes his nose against yours and you chase after the touch. 

Swallowing hard, you look up at him from under your lashes. You tilt further into him, your mouth hovering just over his. “Because I haven’t felt like this in a very long time and I don’t want it to go away.” Don’t want you to go away. 

Logan nods and whispers, “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” And then he presses his mouth to yours. 

It’s soft, barely a hint of skin against skin, but when you whisper, “Please,” against his lips, Logan growls and then he’s everywhere. His kiss claims you, his tongue licking in your mouth and you whimper as his fingers curl along the nape of your neck somehow pulling you impossibly closer. 

You wind your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the short strands at the back of his head. Your entire world is focused down to the feel of his lips on yours and the press of his fingers against your jaw as he pulls you towards his hungry mouth. 

Logan’s grip on you tightens, one hand splayed across your lower back and the other pressed firmly between your shoulder blades, anchoring you to him. The heat between you is palpable, each movement of his lips setting you further aflame. You lose track of time, lost in the sensation of his beard scraping against your skin, leaving a tingling trail in its wake.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless and his forehead rests against yours, your shared breaths mingling in the space between you. His eyes are dark and intense as they search your face and you feel untethered, Logan being the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You okay?” he asks, voice rough, but surprisingly tender as his thumb traces along the line of your jaw.

You nod, swallowing the lump that’s formed in your throat. You don’t trust yourself to speak.

His lips quirk into a small smile. “Good.” He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your cheek, his hand lingering at the side of your face. He presses one last soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before he steps back and walks down the path back home.

+++

You can’t stop thinking about the kiss—Logan’s lips against yours, the taste of his tongue, the press of his hands against your skin, hot and heavy, yet gentle. 

You want to live in that moment forever. Want to know only his kisses for the rest of your life, for him to be the first person you kiss good morning and the last person you kiss goodnight. For him to kiss you just because he can, because he misses you, because he can’t get the feel of your mouth out of his mind and he needs to feel you again pressing against him. 

You also want to run away, hide yourself from these emotions that are overwhelming you and leaving you feeling raw and exposed and absolutely terrified. You haven’t kissed another man in two years and he broke your heart, leaving nothing but shattered pieces and dust in his wake. Dust that still clings to you despite your best efforts to sweep it up. Those pieces of your heart are still sharp, jagged where they should be smooth. 

You’ve always been trusting, choosing to see the light in others as opposed the darkness. Believing deep down that everyone deserves kindness, deserves a second chance, that one bad deed does not a bad person make. But he stole a part of that from you and you hate him for it. Hate that even now, after all this time, he’s able to worm his way into your brain and make you question the motives of the man who’s made you feel more alive than you have in months. 

Last night you felt unshackled, unbound by the fear that had chained you for so long. You felt as if Logan’s very touch, his presence, had set your soul on fire and instead of fearing the burn, you were ready to embrace the warmth. 

But now, raw contempt begins to simmer in your veins and you need something to pour your frustration into before it threatens to consume you whole. 

Throwing your hair up into a messy bun and throwing on a paint-stained shirt and ripped jeans, you head outside looking for a project to sink fingers into. In the small shed behind the cabin, you find a few gardening supplies—a small shovel, trowel, bow rake—and you drag them out and to the overgrown flower beds.

You don’t even bother with the tools at first, ripping at the dead growth with your bare hands, pulling it from the earth in great clumps and tossing it aside. Your pulse beats loudly in your ears as you move from bed to bed, clawing away the old growth, your breathing growing ragged and your palms staining with dirt.

Grabbing the rake, you dig at the remaining plants, tearing at the roots, destroying the new growth. Tears run hotly down your face, blurring your vision and your throat aches from force of your breathing and screams you’ve been holding back.

From behind you, you hear the sound of your name and you whip around so quickly, the rake goes flying from your hands. You can hear the snikt of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe and the splintering of wood as he deflects the rake flying at him. It clatters to the ground between you as he retracts his claws and looks at you, his brow furrowed in concern.

You wonder, then, exactly what you look like in that moment. Dirt caked on your hands and under your fingernails, cheeks flushed with exertion, hair a halo of disarray. The pure adrenaline you’d been running on wanes and your limbs suddenly feel heavy and you sink to the ground in front of him. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, because you’re afraid of what you’ll see.

Logan approaches you slowly, kneeling down in front of you and gently raising your chin to look up at him. The stark worry etched on his face makes you ache and fresh tears burn in your eyes. You wipe at your eyes, which only serves to smear dirt across your face.

“I’m terrified, Logan,” you whisper, wanting to reach for him, but afraid to touch him. “I terrified of how much I like you.”

“You scare me too,” he confesses softly and your heart breaks.

He leans closer, fingers resting hesitantly against your knees. You reach for him too, grabbing on to the open sides of his jacket and pulling him to you. Logan doesn’t flinch, doesn’t push back and instead envelopes you into his arms, your head resting against the solid warmth of his chest. 

Safe in his arms, you cry. Harsh, broken sobs as he rubs your back, the soft caress of his fingers along your spine anchoring you to him as he holds you. He murmurs into your hair that he’s got you, to let it all out, and you do.

Eventually, you calm and sigh, pressing your forehead against his chest, loathe to move just yet. “I’m broken, Logan,” you mumble into his shirt. You look up at him then, the softness and concern on his face making you physically ache. “I still have broken pieces where I should be whole.”

Slowly, tentatively, he brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. His thumbs brush at the dirt and tears under your eyes and he smoothes the hair away from your forehead. “Maybe some of my pieces fit,” he says, voice low, but steady. 

His words send a flood of emotion through you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Then the gravity of what he’s saying hits you—he’s offering you himself, all his jagged and scarred pieces, the pieces no one else sees.

The pieces he wants you to see.

You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses against the corner of his mouth. His sigh is hot against your cheek, but he doesn’t press further. 

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin and somehow it feels like the most important thing you’ve ever said.

“C’mon,” he says, “Let me help you get this cleaned up.”

You nod, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.  Logan stands, offering you his hand. You take it, your fingers slipping into his and his grip is steady, yet gentle as he helps you up. 

Without a word, Logan grabs the broken rake and begins removing the debris from the beds you laid waste to. You watch him work for a moment before joining in, pulling the weeds from the beds you hadn’t gotten to yet. Every now and then your eyes meet, but you don’t say anything. You don’t feel the need to fill the space with words, his presence beside you speaking volumes more than he could ever say. 

After a while, Logan pauses and looks over at you, wiping the dirt from his hands into his jeans. “You still got those seeds I gave you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Go get ‘em,” he says nodding towards the cabin. “We’ll plant something new.”

You retrieve the small pouch where you’ve kept it safe and come out to find Logan kneeling in the dirt, his fingers making small pockets of earth to house the new flowers. He looks up at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You join him on the ground, dropping a few seeds in each well as he moves to create the next one. 

“I’m not very good at this,” Logan starts, covering the last well with dirt, “but I promise I won’t break you. You don’t gotta be scared of me.”

He looks at you then, his hazel eyes meeting yours and you reach for his hand, your thumb brushing across his dirt stained knuckles. 

“No,” you reply with a smile, “I don’t think I do.”

+++

It’s been three days since that moment with Logan in the garden and the air between you has been quiet. Logan hasn’t come by the cabin, but you hadn’t sought him out either. You weren’t avoiding him, exactly. More a need for space, a chance to process the feelings you felt for him, to test if you were truly ready to open yourself up to him.

Your mind never strays far from him, though. An almost constant loop plays in your brain of the way he held you, the way he spoke, the quiet promise he made not to break you. There’s a large part of you that believes him; your heart is screaming at you shed your lingering doubt and trust him, but your rational brain is grasping desperately to the kernel of truth that vows can be broken. 

So you turn to what you do best—pour your energy into other things. The cabin is spotless now, cleaned of disuse and age, turned into a cozy place of retreat, a simple shelter turned into a home. And yet…

You’re sitting on the porch, watching the sun dip lower in the sky, the book you��d been trying to read long forgotten. The forest is peaceful, alive with the sounds of early summer. But as calming as it is, you can’t ignore the ache in your chest—you miss him. More than you thought possible.

Just as you’re about to stand, the sound of boots against gravel catches your attention. You look up and there he is—Logan. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his worn jacket as he walks up the path. His look is cautious, as if he’s unsure whether or not you’ll accept his presence. 

Your heart skips a beat and you stand, wiping your palms against your jeans as he draws closer. His hazel eyes meet yours and there’s something softer about him, something open.

He stops a few feet away from you, gaze steady. “I wasn’t sure if I should come by.” His voice is still gruff, but quieter than usual. “If you needed space or not.”

“I did, need space. But not from you,” you clarify. You take a hesitant step towards him. “I missed you.”

Logan sighs then, his posture relaxing just slightly. “I wanted so badly to see you. I didn’t know if I should stay away.”

Before you can second guess yourself, you step down from the porch, closing the distance between you. You stand in front of him, noticing the faint lines of tension around his mouth, the way his jaw is clenched as if bracing himself for your rejection. 

“Don’t stay away,” you say softly, “I want you here.”

You reach for him, your fingers brushing against his hands as you pull them from his pockets. Logan doesn’t pull away and the warmth of his skin against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world. You feel it then, that familiar pull—the one that’s been there since the beginning, drawing you closer and closer into his orbit, his sun.

You brush your thumbs across his knuckles and look up at him. “You wanna come inside?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll make you something to eat?”

Logan nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

As you lead him inside, something in the air between you shifts, something subtle. But you know one thing for certain—you’re not afraid anymore. Not of this.

+++

The sun has set, the food long gone and as Logan’s hand reaches for the front door, you slip in front of him. His scent overwhelms you, that earthy dampness you’ve come to associate with him flooding your senses. 

“What if you stayed?” you ask, the slight waver in your voice betraying your boldness. 

You watch as his eyes darken and he leans even further into your space. “Do you know what you’re asking, sweetheart?” he replies, eyes searching your face. 

Swallowing, you nod. “I do,” you whisper. 

Then you slide your arms around his waist, pulling him closer as you lean in and kiss the hollow of his throat. You can feel him swallow hard beneath your lips and you smirk into his skin as you drag your mouth higher, over the long column of his neck to nip at the corner of his jaw. 

“Stay,” you murmur in his ear.

Logan turns, his nose brushing against your cheek as he seeks your mouth and you inhale deeply as his lips find yours. His fingers wind themselves into your hair, resting against the nape of your neck as he pulls you closer. You whimper into his mouth when he pulls back, eyes blown black.

“Show me where,” he says, his voice low.

You lead him up the stairs, his hand warm in yours and you barely make it to the top before Logan’s spinning you around, mouth finding yours. His is kiss is demanding, so different from that first one all those nights ago. This is urgent and desperate, like he can’t possibly get you close enough to satisfy the need deep within him. And you feel it too, pouring yourself back equally into the kiss, moaning as his tongue finally slips alongside yours. 

Your fingers fumble along the top of his jeans, pulling his shirt from where it’s tucked and sliding your hands up along the sides of his ribs. He rewards you with a deep groan of his own, nipping slightly at your bottom lip.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he rumbles against your lips, kissing you once, twice, “I’ve been dyin’ to feel your hands on me.”

“Me, too,” you reply, gasping as his hands find the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to brush his fingers hotly along your skin. 

Logan pulls back just enough to look down at your face, his fingers still clutching the fabric of your shirt, but lifting it just a bit higher. His gaze is questioning, asking for silent permission to continue. You nod once and he slowly drags the shirt up, his fingers skimming along your sides, over the swells of your breasts as he pulls the shirt over your head. 

Despite the heat coursing through your veins, you shiver under the intensity of his stare. He kisses you again, inhaling deeply, before moving down, nipping over your chin, your throat, in between your breasts. 

Logan’s hands follow his mouth, running a trail from your shoulders, down long your spine, easily flicking open the clasp of your bra on the way. He glances up at you as he moves to pull the straps aside, dragging them down your arms. 

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, thumbs fanning out across your nipples.

A jolt of pleasure shoots down your spine and pools low in your belly. You feel like you might spontaneously catch on fire and he’s barely touched you. You can’t remember ever feeling like this when a man has touched you, so consumed by want and need.

His fingers trail lower, brushing along the top of your jeans, popping open the button. You grab for his hand, stopping him. You see the concern flicker across his face and you smile. “Your turn,” you say, sliding your palms up his chest and pushing the flannel from his shoulders, his shirt following suit.

You revel in his muscular physique, your fingers tracing along his collarbones, down over the broad planes of his chest, feeling the wiry hair beneath your fingertips. His muscles flutter beneath your touch as you follow the trail of hair lower, down to the vee between his hips. 

Logan’s arousal is evident by the tenting of his jeans, and your eyes locked on his, you dip lower, giving the faintest of caresses over the fabric.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he curses. “Take your pants off.”

It’s a command, not an ask, and one you’re more than willing to comply with. 

Nervous energy licks at your skin as your fingers tuck into the waistband of your jeans and pull them down. Logan follows your lead, unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans over his hips, kicking them aside. His cock juts out proudly, thick and heavy, nestled in a bed of hair.

Logan’s on you before you can kick away the last leg, hoisting you up under your thighs and forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips. His palms are hot against your ass and you can feel his cock trapped between you. 

He moves you both to the bed, setting you down before crawling over you and slotting himself between your thighs. Leaning back on his heels, he stares down at you, skin flushed. He kisses you softly once, before dragging a single finger down the center of your chest, hooking it into the waistband of your panties. 

“What do you like?” he asks lowly, eyes boring into yours.

You stare at him, unable to comprehend his question as he slides his finger back and forth across your skin. Electric sparks of anticipation crawl up your spine and you can feel the rapid flutter of your heart against your ribs. 

“You want me to touch you with my fingers?” His voice is low, so low and you shiver. 

Your mouth has gone dry and you can only nod. 

“You want me to touch you with my mouth?” Logan leans down, skimming his lips across your collarbone, nipping lightly. 

Your fingers stutter across his shoulders and wind themselves into his hair. Logan’s smirk presses into the corner of your jaw. “Want me to touch you with both?”

“Please,” you whine into his neck, breath hot against his skin. 

Logan trails back down your body, kisses peppering over your neck, both breasts, your belly before he presses a kiss to the top of your clothed mound. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and looks up at you, asking for permission. At your nod, he pulls he material down, eyes never leaving yours as he trails his fingers down your legs and tosses the fabric aside.

You’re fully bare, exposed in a way you haven’t been in a long time and your nerves blush across your skin. Instinctively, you try to close your legs, but he stops you, his hot palms curling against your thighs.

“You don’t gotta hide from me,” Logan says, kissing your knee and spreading your legs further apart. “You’re so pretty like this. Flushed and wet and smelling so sweet for me.”

A jolt of desire zips down your spine. Nothing could have prepared you for the filthiness of words that would spill from his mouth. Or how much you’d enjoy hearing them.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” you murmur.

“That’s not possible.”

“Other men have—“

Your words die in your throat as Logan grips your chin, forcing your gaze up to his face. His expression is soft, but his eyes flash with a glint of something dark. “When I fuck you, I’ll be the only man in your bed, understand?”

The roughness and edge in his voice makes you shiver and heat pools between your thighs. You swallow heavily and nod.

“I want this,” he says, his tone softer. “I want you. Whatever you’ll give me.”

Slowly, you reach for his hand and guide his fingers to where you’re wet and aching for him. At the first brush of his fingertips against your folds, you gasp and your fingers dig deeper into his skin. 

“Relax, sweetheart,” Logan coos. “I’m gonna make you feel good.”

And then he’s touching you, fingers dragging through your arousal before circling around your clit. He caresses you like he knows you and you’re molten beneath him. One finger, then two slip inside you, pressing against that spot that makes you squirm and grip at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “You weren’t lying.” Logan quirks an eyebrow, fingers still curling within you, his rhythm picking up speed. “You are good with your hands.”

His chuckle rumbles through his chest as he continues to move, this thumb working over your clit. Your hips jolt off the bed when Logan replaces his thumb with his tongue, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth. 

He continues to work your cunt, long, flat presses of his tongue against your clit punctuated by the short, sharp thrusts of his fingers. The dual sensation is enough to wind that tension in your core tighter, building you up higher and higher until you feel yourself reaching that inevitable peak.

“Logan, I—I’m so close,” you gasp, fisting your fingers into his hair.

His growl against your cunt is enough to send you over the edge, the vibrations rippling through your body as your orgasm washes over you. Through half lidded eyes, you meet his gaze from between your thighs, his eyes dark with desire and you shiver at the intensity of his stare.

Logan crawls over you, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips, bright and sour, as he licks into your mouth. 

“Do you trust me?”

Logan’s fingers are still moving against you, wringing out the last of your orgasm and you can only nod. He withdraws his fingers and you whine, but he just smirks and taps your hip. 

“Turn over,” he commands lowly. 

A shudder ripples through you as you willingly comply, rolling onto your stomach as Logan’s palm trails from your hip over the swell of your ass. His fingers kneed into your flesh and you squeak as he curves them over your skin, pulling you up onto your knees, drawing your hips flush with his. The thick feel of his cock presses into your ass and you can’t help but push back, enjoying the strangled moan that falls from his lips. 

“I can’t wait to be nestled deep inside you,” he groans, slotting his cock between your thighs, running the length along your wet cunt. 

You peer over your shoulder and smirk at him. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Logan lines up then and the air punches out of your lungs as he slowly eases himself in to the hilt. He’s deep at this angle and you feel claimed, owned in the best way possible as he begins to move his hips. The drag of his cock against your walls is exquisite and you’re sure you’ve never experienced pleasure quite like this before. 

His fingers dig into the flesh at your hips, grabbing as much as he can to pull you back into him and you push back, meeting him thrust for thrust. His grip is enough to be bruising, teetering that line between pleasure and pain and yet you relish it. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Look so good stretched around my cock.”

Pleasure zips along your spine and curls along your limbs, each drag of his cock against you coiling that band in your belly tighter and tighter. Yet, you need more. You need to feel him, feel his arms around you, on you, feel his mouth hot and open against your skin.

“I need to feel you closer,” you whine. “Please, I—”

Logan’s arm slips underneath you, curling just under your breasts and pulling your back flush to his chest. He holds on, fingertips splaying across your ribcage as he fucks up into you, his breath hot and damp against your ear. 

You turn your head just enough to capture his lips, your mouth pressing against his in an open-mouthed kiss. He steals the moan from your throat as his other hand dips to where you’re joined, fingers beginning to circle around your clit. 

Slipping a hand into his hair, you hold him to you, your head falling back onto his shoulder. Logan groans when you rake your nails along his scalp and you do it again. Your mixed groans and the wet noises from where he’s thrusting into you fill the room and time seems to stop. There is nothing but the thick feel of him between your legs, the fervent press of his fingers against your clit and the tight grasp of his hand across your breast. 

A litany of praise falls from his mouth and his words burn through you, setting you aflame from the inside. It’s too early for thoughts of love and forever, but you can feel something real, something undeniable pulling you together, uniting you in a way more than just physical. You’re bound to him. 

Logan’s hand slides up your sternum, his fingers coming to cup your jaw, pulling your focus back to him. The pad of his thumb pulls at your lower lip. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he husks into your ear. “I wanna hear those pretty sounds you make.”

And you do, two more forceful thrusts sending you teetering over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you. Logan doesn’t stop, fucking you through wave after wave, his thrusts getting sloppier as he chases his own release. 

“Let me feel you, Logan,” you pant, your breath coming out in short gasps. “Please.”

With a deep groan into your shoulder he comes, his cock spasming deep within you, painting your womb with his seed. His arm around your hips holds you firmly in place as he uses your body to wring out the last of his pleasure, shallowly thrusting as your walls caress him. When he finally stills, breath hot against your skin, you can feel your combined come slick against your thighs. 

You don’t know how long he holds you like that, back to chest, keeping you in his arms simply because he can. 

Only later, when the sweat begins to cool on your skin and your flesh pebbles, does Logan lay you down, finally slipping from within you. He pulls you close and you rest your head against his chest, the comforting lull of his heartbeat echoing in your ear. 

You lightly trace your fingertips over the crest of his hipbone just to feel him beneath you. His breathing evens out, approaching that blissful edge of sleep when you glance up at him. Logan opens his eyes, gaze meeting yours and he smiles.

“Logan?”

His hum vibrates through his chest.

“I think we’re healing each other.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he answers, “I think we are.”

[cloudystevie]

How would bucky react to his wife being known as a milf😭 jealous or proud

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warnings: pda, possessiveness, you and bucky are married and have a 3 year old son😊 and no actual smut but some allusions to it

author’s note: i think he’d be a mix of both but he only knows how to be possessive about it!!! sorry if this is not what you wanted but it is unfortunately the way my mind worked😓

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆.

18+ only minors dni.

Bucky’s not blind. He knows you’re beautiful inside and out and how your energy reflects on everything you do. The kindness in your heart and the serenity in your soul attract people to you. The fact that you’re the most gorgeous person on the planet is just a little added bonus.

This Saturday afternoon is spent shopping for a new summer wardrobe for your three-year-old son and maybe snagging a couple of cute pieces for yourself.

Bucky completely clears his schedule every weekend without fail to devote time to you and your child together. This one starts with a brunch. You are dressed up all sweet and pretty for him in a dainty white sundress, enhancing your body in all the best ways. You look breathtaking, and Bucky hasn’t been able to keep his hands off you. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to behave for the rest of the day until he can get you back into the bed.

You seem to have caught the attention of the young waiter, whose pale skin grows a splotchy red every time you thank him for his service. He stutters out a thank you, boldly initiating eye contact but quickly darting away when Bucky sits up just a little bit straighter, a little bit taller.

Later, after a successful shopping trip, you hold back a giggle as your son darts around the playground while you are seated next to Bucky on the bench.

“What’s so funny, baby?” he furrows his eyebrows, still a bit peeved at how the sales associate at the previous boutique you three visited wanted to set you up with her son. Showing you pictures and talking him up. Bucky was busy on the other end of the store, letting your son wander around to burn off more energy. His ears perked up at your conversation with the older lady. He argues that what he did was not petty or childish in the slightest, but the way he all but stalked over to you just to place a possessive hand on your waist and an almost vulgar kiss on your lips had the poor lady coughing in discomfort as she quickly busied herself with folding clothes.

Then suddenly, your son appeared and began poking at your calf, “Mama, can we go now?” While you remained breathless with your cheeks burning, Bucky quickly snatched him up, kissing his forehead before leading you two out of the boutique. A few minutes later, you’re in the car, and your son gets your attention from the backseat. " Mama, mama!” you reply, turning around as Bucky pulls out of the parking spot. " Yes, baby?”

“Dada said we have to save you from the monster lady! He said she was going to steal you from us! Did we safe you, mama? " His chubby face is twisted in concern.

You looked at Bucky with narrow eyes, a light smile tugging at your lips: " Yeah, baby, you saved me. Thank god I have you and Dada to protect me!” Bucky just had a smug smile on his face, not at all ashamed of what he had done. Your son giggled in agreement, no longer concerned and instead focused on the cars passing by. You fiddled with Bucky’s fingers on your thigh as you admired him while he was driving when he leisurely brought your hand to his face, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.

“Nothing,” you giggle, watching your son run around the slide instead of sliding down it, “I just think it’s cute how jealous you get.” Your voice has a teasing lilt as you look up at him, playfully squishing his cheeks together. Bucky rolls his eyes, his hand grabbing your wrist gently to easily remove it from his face as he moves your hand to trace over the diamond ring adorning your ring finger. With a slight smirk, he brings your hand up to kiss your ring finger, intertwining your hands and looking at you with a glint in his eyes.

He brings his face closer to yours, lips hovering but not touching as he speaks lowly, “Our next stop is gonna be a jewelry store. I’m getting you a bigger diamond so everyone knows you’re well taken care of.” He places a peck on your parted lips before turning around and calling for your son, who looks ready for his afternoon nap, as he holds his arms out for Bucky to carry him.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Summary: You have a long weekend that ends rather unexpectedly. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing. 

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, some brief violence at the end.

A/N: I'm in a bit of a crisis so you're getting a bonus chapter this week. It's a beefy one and I wrote like 90% of it yesterday, just had the brain sludge by the time I was close to finishing and decided to rest before I finished and edited. Things are starting to get a big suggestive here, so as a reminder, this fic will have NSFW content in later chapters so please do not interact with it if you are under 18. I'd hate to have to block you.

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“How are you settling in?” 

“Fine.” You shrug. 

“Any instinct to nest at all?” 

You shake your head. “No.” 

“That’s fine.” Dr. Keller says, writing something down. “It’s only been just over a week. Have you started kneeling for Captain Price yet?” 

You shake your head again. “No.” 

Dr. Keller tilts her head. “Why not?” 

You shrug again. “He hasn’t brought it up.” 

“Is that something you’d like to start doing?” 

Her question catches you off guard again. You’re not used to being asked what you want, afterall you’re an omega. That’s not important. You’re here to serve. To do as you’re told. You remember watching your mother kneel for your father while he watched TV, her dazed, glazed over eyes staring at nothing as he almost seemed to hypnotize her into the shell of a perfect omega. It was your first taste of truly how much power alphas could hold over omegas. One hand on the back of your neck and it’s over. 

“I...I don’t know.” You say, picking at your sleeve. 

“You’re allowed to want things too.” Dr. Keller leans forward just slightly, giving you a smile. “I highly doubt Captain Price will make much of a fuss if you ask for something you need. He cares about you. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here alone.” She tilts her head at you, watching you pick at your sleeve. “Is there anything you want or maybe need that you haven’t asked for?” 

Softer blankets. A fluffier pillow. Different body wash and shampoo. New clothes. A picture or a poster or something to make your room seem less clinical. Your instincts to finally start kicking in. Price to want you as much as he’s supposed to. Ghost to like you. To go back in time and let Soap kiss you. 

To go back in time and never present as an omega. 

“No.” You finally answer, shaking your head. “I’m fine.” 

Dr. Keller stares at you for a long moment. You avoid her gaze, picking at the seam of your sleeve. “I know you’re going to get tired of me saying this, but it’s important that you understand that this is a safe space for you. Everything that we discuss, everything that you say in here stays between you and me. Doctor-patient confidentiality is something I firmly believe in, even when it comes to alpha/omega relationships. Okay?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You say quietly, still avoiding her gaze. 

She continues to stare at you for a moment before she leans back on the couch again, shuffling some papers around. “The two betas, Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish. How are you getting along with them?” She continues with her questions.

“Fine.” You lean back in your chair, hoping it might swallow you whole. “They’re easiest to get along with.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “Good. I’m a strong advocate for organic pack bonding. Helps avoid any dynamic struggles or false instincts down the line. How are you sleeping?” 

“Fine I guess.” You shrug. “I nap a lot.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Omegas need a lot of sleep and I can imagine adjusting to a new schedule has been rough.” Dr. Keller moves the papers to the couch next to her, looking up at you. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” 

You hesitate, pulling at the seam of your sleeve. It’s beginning to unravel a bit from your nervous picking. You’ll have to fix it. Dr. Keller is right, though. You could just ask for a new one. Price had told you they had a budget for your needs, plus they do get paid well. Anything you needed, they would gladly get for you. 

You just have to ask. 

It’s the asking that you’re not sure you can do. It feels strange to ask anything of your new pack. They’re supposed to be the ones needing things from you. If Soap had wanted to kiss you, he could have. Instead he left it up to you. He let you decide. You wonder if Price’s hesitation to move forward has been because he’s waiting on you. 

They’re all waiting on you, except maybe Ghost. They’re waiting on you to make the first moves, on you to set the pieces on the board. What is the first move? How do you set the pieces? Did you even need to? Would they fall into place organically if you just left them alone? Or would the tension continue to build up, would you continue to affect them until it became too much and the pressure causes everything to blow? 

“I’m affecting them.” You say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

Dr. Keller tilts her head as she stares at you. “What do you mean?” 

“They’re soldiers. They’re good soldiers with years and years of training, that’s why they're here. But...but I’m changing that. I asked Price if I could go with them and watch them run a training course cause I read in a book that I should get to know them and the things they like and so I was just curious what they do during the day when I’m not with them. He let me watch and he told me their top speeds running the training course but...none of them met those times with me there.”

You take a deep breath, the words pouring out of you easily now. You feel as if you’re not even thinking of them, not even measuring them or using caution as you normally would in any conversation. They’re slipping out from somewhere deep inside and now that you’ve opened that dam, you can’t stop it. 

“Price made them run through it five times and they still couldn’t match their top speeds. He said it was a good thing that they figured that out, that they need to know how I’m affecting them and how to adjust to me. And every time they ran through it, I couldn’t stop thinking about...” 

You take another breath, the air catching in your lungs. Your fingers are shaking, your body sinking deeper and deeper into the chair, almost as if you’re trying to get it to swallow you whole. As if the chair might wrap its arms around you and pull you into its softness and keep you there until you can’t breathe and it suffocates you. 

“What if it was me? What if they were having to rescue me? I know that’s a risk, a low one, but it’s still a risk. The CIA and Kate warned me that I could become a target if the wrong person found out about me. That’s why I can’t know anything about what they do because that puts me at more of a risk, and I could be a threat to them and the entire world if something got out that wasn’t supposed to.” 

You’re breathing heavily as the words finally come to a stop. Dr. Keller’s eyes are shining with sympathy as she stares at you. This is the most you’ve ever opened up to her, the most words you feel you’ve ever spoken to her in the two times now that you’ve met.

It feels good. It feels really good to voice your thoughts and your fears to someone on the outside, someone you can trust won’t tell anyone. You couldn’t voice these fears to your pack. They’re used to this kind of thing. They live with the knowledge they could die at any point, that any mission might be their last. How many lives have they seen lost, how many close calls have they had? You’ve seen scars already on arms, hands, faces. How many others are hidden where you can’t see? 

How many scars do they have inside, too? 

“I want you to know that your fears are very valid.” Dr. Keller says, her voice soft. “Being involved in the military comes with a lot of risks, and then you get to places like this and those risks only get greater and greater. I can’t promise you that something like that won’t ever happen, because we have no way of knowing. The risk is not zero for a reason.” 

Dr. Keller stands from the couch, moving to the chair next to you. The calming beta scent washes over you, and you know you have to be stinking up the room. She turns the chair slightly to face you, leaning forward onto her knees. You can see the imprints on the sides of her nose from where she’d been wearing glasses earlier. 

“That risk is also only low for a reason. Your identity has been well hidden, just like those of your pack’s. You’re on a well protected and secure military base. This place is a black square on Google Maps. I know, I tried looking it up when I found out where I was being assigned.” She reaches out, squeezing your arm gently. “And I highly doubt your pack would ever let anything happen to you. Packs are highly protective over their omegas. Even bad alphas can’t fight that instinct when their pack is threatened. Your pack would quite literally go to war for you.” 

She is right, you know she is. Yet that fear continues to wiggle at the back of your mind. You know they’d never let anything happen to you, but they’re going to start leaving soon. What if something happens while they’re not here? Who will help you then? The other soldiers? The betas that stare and the alphas that catcall you? 

“I guess you’re right.” You say, continuing to pick at your sleeve. At this rate, by the time your heat starts, you’ll have unraveled the whole sweatshirt.  

The buzz of your phone on your nightstand pulls you from your half asleep state. Your book is on the floor, having dropped from your hands and slid off your bed as you drifted off. Your lamp is still on, casting a warm glow around your room. You prefer the softer light compared to the fluorescent overhead, as most omegas do. There’s something too clinical and sterile about fluorescents. 

You grab your phone, pushing yourself up onto your elbow as you try to blink the sleepiness away. It’s not terribly late, but you’ve been feeling the exhaustion all day since your conversation with Dr. Keller. 

“Be ready by 0500 tomorrow. Wear something meant for the outdoors.” 

It’s a text from Price, your brow furrowing as you read it over. Five in the morning on a Saturday? That’s the earliest you’ve had to get up since your arrival on base. And wear something meant for the outdoors? You can only imagine what he has planned for the day you had been planning on spending sleeping. 

You make a quiet noise of indignation as you text back in confirmation, setting an alarm so you can be ready by 5 am. Not up by 5 am, ready by 5 am. You have half a mind to call him, or to text back asking why he feels you need to be up before the sun. You know that’s the normal time they begin their mornings during the week, usually when you hear them up and moving around, getting ready to go work out. That’s usually when you roll over and go back to sleep for another hour and a half before your own alarm gets you up for breakfast. 

You pout a little as you set your phone back on your nightstand, reaching down to grab your book and set it next to your phone. You lay back down on your bed, turning off your lamp and bathing the room in darkness. Well, it’s not totally dark. The light from the lamp outside shines in your window, casting cold shadows across the walls and floor. You’ve never been a fan of total darkness. You’d grown used to having some light in the room at The Institute. One of your roommates had insisted on having a nightlight, and there were many nights you were grateful for it as you laid awake at the mercy of your racing mind. 

A nightlight. 

You add it to the mental list of things you want, but you’ll never feel brave enough to ask for. 

Your alarm rings too early in the morning, your hand lifting to silence it quickly. 4:30 am doesn’t feel like a real time as you rise in darkness, hand fumbling for the switch to your lamp. You glare into the dimly lit room, trying to blink the sleepiness from your eyes. How desperately you want to curl back up under the blankets and sleep until someone knocks on the door to check on you because you’ve slept so long into the day. 

You don’t doubt Price will knock in about 30 minutes to get you up. He’ll be disappointed if you ignore him, you think. He wouldn’t punish you if you went against his wishes, would he? 

You don’t know that. 

You haven’t even thought to push that boundary, nor have you discussed it. You don’t want to. You’re a good omega. 

You’re a good omega. 

You repeat it over and over as you get yourself ready, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up. You silently thank Kate as you pull on a pair of cargo pants and hiking boots, assuming that’s what Price means by “something meant for the outdoors.” Had she bought the items in anticipation of something like this happening? You are on a military base. You should have expected you’d be pulled into something like this eventually. 

You’re debating on a jacket by the time the knock comes, right at 5 am. You wonder how long Price has been standing in the hallway, or if he’s perfected arriving right on the dot after years of expected punctuality. You decide on the jacket after checking the weather, slipping it on as you open the door. He hadn’t mentioned needing anything, not that you own any sort of supplies for the outdoors anyway. 

He doesn’t say anything as you open the door, instead motioning with his head to follow. You quietly close your door, expecting the others to be waiting for you, but their doors are all closed and they’re nowhere to be seen. You feel slightly nervous as you follow Price out into the cold morning air, glad you decided on the jacket as your breath steams from your lips. 

Price is dressed in his usual boots and cargo pants with a cargo jacket and a beanie instead of a bucket hat. There’s two packs leaning against the side of the building, Price grabbing one and approaching you. 

“What are we doing?” You ask quietly as he helps you put on the backpack, buckling it across your chest. 

“Going for a hike.” He says, putting on the other backpack. 

“Why?” You ask as he turns on a flashlight, handing it to you before turning on another one for himself. 

“I’ll explain when we get there.” He says simply, motioning for you to follow him. 

You hesitate for half a moment. A hike in the dark? The base is surrounded by forest, but you sometimes forget due to the sprawling nature of the buildings, and your usual ventures outside the barracks being to either the mess or the medical center, all of which were central on the base. 

Why does he feel the need to hike in the dark? Surely it’s more dangerous, especially for someone not quite so physically inclined like you. If he wanted to go on a hike, why hadn’t he just said that to begin with? Maybe he would have, had you asked why last night instead of just immediately agreeing. 

Going into the woods alone in the dark with an alpha you barely know. 

Anxiety twists in your stomach for a moment before you force your feet forward, walking fast to catch up to him. He leads you down one of the roads on base, your boots crunching as the ground changes from asphalt to gravel. Your anxiety doesn’t lessen any as the trees loom high above you in the darkness, the forest like a black void before you. 

Your brain thinks up all the land predators that might exist in England. Do they have bears? You’ve seen Brave, but that’s in Scotland. What about big cats like cougars or mountain lions? Are there racoons in England? 

You’re on a military base, you think. Surely they have means to keep out large predators that might be dangerous. 

Your pack won’t let anything happen to you. 

Dr. Keller’s words float through your mind as you follow Price through the underbrush and into the trees. You’re not following any path, at least that you can see, though your experiences in the outdoors have been very limited since you left home. Your dad liked to camp and hike, and often you and your siblings were subjected to his weekend and holiday trips into the wilderness. 

You missed them in the early days at the Institute. You missed a lot of things back then. 

“What’s eating you back there?” Price asks as you weave through trees and underbrush. 

“There’s nothing...dangerous out here...is there, sir?” You ask, narrowly avoiding taking a branch to the face. “Bears or mountain lions?” 

Price chuckles. “The worst thing you might find is a stray badger or a snake that got through the fence somehow.” 

“Oh.” You say, shining the flashlight around you. “That’s good.” 

Price stops, turning to face you. “You’re fretting.” 

“Well, we’re in the woods in the dark at an ungodly hour and you won’t tell me why, sir.” You pout. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks, staring down at you with a hard look in his eyes. 

You stare up at him, your grip tightening on the flashlight in your hand. “Should I trust you?” 

He straightens up a bit, the corner of his lips twitching. “That’s something you have to decide.” He turns back around, starting to walk again. “All I can do is my best to try and prove myself to you. In the end, you’re the one that decides if I’m trustworthy or not.” 

You’ve never thought of it that way. He could do everything in his power to get you to trust him, but in the end it is your decision. He hasn’t proven you wrong yet, but then again...it’s only been a week. You’ve known him for a week and you’re following him through the woods alone in the dark. 

Your brothers would have a fit if they saw you right now. 

“Do you trust me?” You find yourself asking as you continue to trek through the woods, narrowly avoiding hurting yourself on various occasions. 

“You haven’t given me reason not to.” He answers, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder. “I’d prefer it stayed that way.” 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, sir. I hardly think I’m much of a threat on any term. Well, at least I don’t think I am. Ghost seems to disagree.” 

Price lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Simon...Simon is a unique case. He’s good at his job, but that makes it hard for him to succeed in other areas. I’m sure Johnny has told you how much Simon couldn’t stand him at first. Now look at them.” He chuckles warmly, almost fondly. “He only sees you as a threat in your nature.” 

You frown, glancing up at the sky. It’s beginning to turn grey with dusk, the trees seeming to come alive around you in the dim light. “What do you mean by that, sir?” 

“You’re an omega. To bond with an omega, there is a degree of vulnerability required by the alpha. Being around omegas requires an openness that can be frightening if you’re not used to it.” He explains. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Simon isn’t the most open man.” 

You snort quietly. “Hadn’t noticed, sir.” 

Price chuckles at your answer. “You’re threatening to him, because you’re a challenge. Give him time. This entire situation is an adjustment for all of us, just as I’m sure it is for you too.” 

You don’t know how to respond to that statement. It is an adjustment. Joining any pack was, but a pack like this...a pack that has you tramping through the woods at 6 am for a reason you don’t even know yet is a major adjustment. 

Price stops after the sun has come up, taking a moment next to an outcropping of rocks. He clips your flashlight to your bag before unzipping it, passing you a bottle of water. You take it gladly, your mouth feeling dry after walking for so long. 

“How much further?” You ask as he drinks his own water. 

“Quite a ways.” He answers. 

“Can I know why we’re doing this yet?” You ask as he zips your water back into your backpack. 

“Not yet.” He says, continuing onward.

You let out an exasperated sigh, but follow him anyway. You don’t have much of a choice. 

Your legs are beginning to get tired, and you’re starting to feel a bit hungry. You’re not sure if you should say anything, or if he’d even stop. You assume he’s packed food, or at least you hope so. You’re going to get grumpy if you’re traversing all over the forest for hours with nothing to eat. 

Price slows his pace a bit as you approach what you think is a clearing. You can see a break in the trees ahead, the sun coming through brighter here. You’re sore and tired, your phone telling you you’ve been walking for just over two hours. 

How big is this base?

You break through the treeline, finding a small clearing with what looks like a fire watch tower in the middle of it. It’s not what you were expecting, the many scenarios of why you had been dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour and forced to hike through the woods you’ve been thinking up the last two hours, did not end quite like this. You stare up at the tower, your head tilting back to take it in. 

“Not scared of heights, are you?” Price asks, standing beside you. 

“Maybe.” You answer, eyeing the staircase winding around it to get to the top. 

“Come on.” He says, nudging you forward gently. “Up the stairs.” 

The last thing you want to do after walking for two hours is climb a never ending staircase, but you don’t think you have much of a choice. Perhaps you can finally sit once you get to the top, and maybe you’ll even get to eat. 

Price follows behind you as you take the steps, climbing slowly. Your legs are screaming, your feet aching in your boots. You wouldn’t be surprised if they’re bleeding a little, or if you wind up with blisters. You’re breathing heavily by the time you get to the top, sweat beading on your brow. Price doesn’t even seem winded behind you, and you’re sure he could have jogged up the steps if he wanted to. 

The top of the tower is mostly empty except for a small table and two chairs. There’s no windows, the tower open between the railing and the roof. Price sets his bag on the table, unzipping it. You sink into one of the chairs, letting your bag drop to the floor. 

“Can I know why we’re here now?” You ask him. 

“Drink some water and take a breath first.” He says, pulling a couple packets out of his bag. MRE’s. 

You dig your bottle out of your bag, taking note of the other contents inside. A few snack bars, a couple MRE’s of your own, another unopened bottle of water, and a book. There’s things in the other pockets but you don’t bother looking, guzzling down more water. 

You stand from your chair, your legs almost buckling in protest as Price gets the MRE’s cooking. You lean against the railing, looking down over the forest that stretches out as far as you can see below. 

“Can I know now?” You ask, knowing there has to be a good reason for him to bring you out here. 

“A training exercise.” He says finally. 

“A training exercise?” You frown, turning to look at him over your shoulder. It wasn’t a training exercise for you, was it? 

“Sometimes when we get a specific target on a mission, the only thing we have to go off of is a general location and a scent.” He explains. “We have to be able to track that scent effectively, sometimes for miles. We run training exercises out here to test their ability to track scents to hunt down a target.” 

You stare at the sprawling woods, beginning to understand. “So, they’re hunting a scent that will lead them here?” 

Price chuckles lowly, his hands coming to rest on the railing on either side of you. Your stomach flutters as he leans in close, his scent strong in your nose as his breath fans your ear. “Technically, they’re hunting you.” 

Your knuckles go white as they grip the railing, your blood pulsing in your veins. You’re well aware that some alphas like to hunt their omegas. There’s some primal urge deep within your brains to chase and be chased. You’re well aware of how it usually ends, the thought making your stomach clench. 

“You gave me the idea.” Price says, the warmth of his body radiating through your jacket. “When you asked to watch them train, I saw how you affected them, I thought...maybe you can be useful for their training afterall.” 

“Do they...do they know it’s me?” You ask as he steps back from you. You fight the urge to whine at the loss of proximity. 

“They do now.” He says with a smirk. “They’ve already started, so if they can follow your scent successfully, then they’ll be here in about an hour.” He says, looking at his watch. 

You frown a little. “But...we walked for two hours.” 

He smiles a little, pointing to a break in the trees below you hadn’t noticed until now. “That trailhead is a 20 minute hike back to base.” 

Your frown deepens. “But-” 

“We weren’t walking in a straight line.” He explains. “We doubled back and recrossed the trail several times to try and confuse them, just as someone running from them would do.” He passes you one of the MRE’s. “That’s what I want you to do, if it ever comes to it. You don’t fight unless you have no other choice. You always try to run first.” 

“Yes, sir.” You say, sitting down again. You don’t think you’d do much damage fighting anyway, but you don’t tell him that. 

You open the package, peeking at the contents. Some sort of potato hash, you think, but you don’t really care. You’re so hungry you’ll gladly eat the mystery re-hydrated food. Price sinks into the other chair with a quiet sigh, digging into the food. It’s quiet out in the woods, the only other sound besides the two of you the sounds of birds. 

You’ve always loved the woods, the quiet serenity of such isolation. You could imagine Price living in a log cabin miles from civilization, with animals and his own garden, happily living in quiet peace away from the stresses of life and war. You blame the fluttering in your stomach on the lingering thoughts of a chase, of a hunt. The thought of running, trying to evade soldiers who train to hunt others by their scents has goosebumps forming on your skin. 

They’re not from the cold either. 

The sun has disappeared behind clouds, the grey weather of England quickly becoming normal to you. You haven’t seen the sun much since you landed in London two weeks ago, and you’re sure you’re not going to see much of it for quite a long while. 

“What’s got you all twitchy over there?” Price asks, breaking the silence. 

You turn to look at him, your mouth open a bit in surprise. “How can you tell?” 

“I’ve been trained to notice small details, sweetheart.” He says, grinning at you. “Your fingers always get fidgety first. Like you’re looking for something to do with them. Usually they disappear beneath your sleeves, or you start picking at your clothes. Your scent changes too. Subtly, but still noticeable.” 

Oh god. You wince a little bit. He can still smell you, even outdoors in an open area. 

“Your eyes start to move, looking all over the place, like you’re searching for something, or trying not to stare at one place too long.” He continues, making you want to sink deeper and deeper into the chair until you disappear. Of course he can read you like a book. They all probably can. “Your breathing always picks up, fast enough it’s noticeable if you’re paying attention. It’s easy to set you off too, sweet little thing.” 

Warmth floods your face at his words and his stare, the back of your neck prickling. You meet his gaze across the table, the look in his eyes making you feel like you want to crawl under the table and hide. You hate that he can read you so easily. You won’t be able to hide anything from him. 

He probably knows you already have. 

You continue to hold his gaze, not backing down despite the intense tickling at the back of your neck. Touch alphas like a challenge, you repeat it over and over in your head. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

A quiet growl rumbles through his chest, a shiver shooting down your spine so violently it nearly steals your breath. You fight the urge to bear your throat to him in submission, your head tilting back just slightly as your eyes squeeze closed. You’re panting, warmth pooling in your stomach as he chuckles lowly. He’s won, he knows it. You were never going to win. Nature was set against you. Your nature is to submit to him. 

“Innocent little thing, aren’t ya?” He says, pulling a cigar from one of his pockets. 

You know he smokes, you know they all do. You’ve smelled it on them many times, and it was to be expected. Your father hadn’t started until after he joined the Marines. Your mother hated it. “Dirty habit.” She always whispered as she smelled his uniform and the laundry he brought home from deployment. 

He could have had worse ones, you always thought. 

You can’t help but watch his lips curl around the cigar, the scent of tobacco permeating the air. His eyes are still on you, your own lips tingling a bit. You think back to how close you had been with Soap, inches from having your first real kiss. You regret it a bit now, not letting him kiss you. He wouldn’t have known he was your first, except perhaps by your awkwardness. 

You wonder how many times they’ve all been kissed. You wonder how many times they've kissed each other. You wonder how many barrack bunnies Price has been with, how many other omegas he’s been with. You can’t imagine Ghost being one for barrack bunnies, but then your mind sinks somewhere deeper. Ghost in his mask with an omega bent over the side of his bed, his hand wrapped around the back of their neck... 

Another shiver runs down your spine, your lower body beginning to pulse in time with your heart. 

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Price asks, still staring at you. 

“Soap almost kissed me a couple days ago.” You admit, not trusting yourself not to admit to the other things you’re thinking about. 

Price’s brows lift in surprise. “Did you not want him to?” 

Want. There’s that word again. You keep hearing it, but you’re not entirely sure what it means anymore. He’s asking to be sure that Soap didn’t force you into anything, even though you can’t imagine the beta doing such a thing. Betas usually weren’t aggressive without good reason, not like alphas. 

“Well...no, that’s not it...” You say, your face burning as you begin to regret your choice of topic. “I...I haven’t kissed anyone before...well, not like a real kiss. At The Institute, there was this omega, she was...progressive. Nothing they tried could break her of that and she got into the heads of a few other omegas. One of my bunkmates decided she didn’t want an alpha to be her first kiss, so...I volunteered.” 

Price continues to stare at you, a dark look in his eyes. You know some alphas like to watch omegas together. You’ve seen it in movies, things your brothers would put on when they were babysitting, things that would have gotten them hit over the head if your father found out. 

“Is that so?” He finally says, flicking some of the ash from the end of his cigar. “Not even a real kiss before you presented?” 

You shake your head. “No. I was...the weird kid in school. Most people considered it social suicide to be around me.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I bet quite a few of them are kicking themselves now.” 

“Why didn’t you want Soap to kiss you?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. He’s still wondering if he needs to have a long chat with the young Sergeant, or perhaps take other action. 

“Well...it wasn’t so much that I didn’t want it.” You say. “I just...thought you might be upset...if you weren’t my first...” You swallow nervously at his stare. “Since you’re pack alpha...you have the right to claim-” 

“I wouldn’t care.” He cuts you off, almost as if he’s uncomfortable with the idea of him having all the rights to claim you. As if he was uncomfortable with the idea of holding a claim over someone else. “If you want your first kiss to be with one of the others, then you shouldn’t keep yourself from what you want.” 

His words echo Dr. Keller’s. It confuses you, their willingness to allow you to want. You’re an omega, you don’t get to want. You get told what to do, what to wear. You get told what to want. You don’t make decisions, you sit and be a good omega for your alpha. 

“I don’t know what I want.” You say quietly. 

“Think about it.” He says, stubbing out his cigar. “I won’t be upset. Makes me feel a little better, in truth. Makes me feel less like an old creep trying to steal your innocence.” 

You try not to smile at his words. “I mean...you are, in a way.” 

He tsks at you but his eyes are playful as he checks his watch. “You’re trouble. We’ve got a few minutes before the hour is up. Let’s see if they can beat it.” 

You stare out at the treeline, taking deep gulps of the cool air to try and calm yourself as you wait for the others to arrive. You’re still tingling a bit from your conversation with Price, that slight tickle still crawling across the back of your neck. You want him to hold you there, feel his calloused skin against yours, feel the strength of his fingers as they press into your skin. You want him to take all the turmoil away, the fear and the insecurity and the confusion. 

You want to kneel for him. 

You’re saved from your thoughts as a familiar figure breaks through the treeline, big and hulking and wearing a skull on his face. You’ve never seen him in this mask before, only ever seeing him in his balaclava. It’s a haunting image, only his eyes visible as he looks up at the top of the tower. Soap and Gaz appear behind him, the three of them making for the staircase. 

Their boots echo on the steps as they race to the top, Soap the first one to appear with a wide grin. 

“Aye, we found the target!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you into the air and spinning.

You yelp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life. He smells like musk and sweat, and you can’t help but wonder if they ran here. He sets you back on your feet, your legs aching in protest after sitting for too long. The soreness of your morning hike has caught up to you, and you’ll be feeling it for a few days. 

“Not bad.” Price says, looking at his watch. “For the first time with a new scent.” He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get back and you can have the rest of the day off.” 

You let out a whine in protest as Price grabs your backpack, gaining the attention of the four men. “You mean we have to walk back too?” 

“It’s not even a kilometer.” Gaz says with a grin. 

You pout. “I don’t know how far that is! I already had to walk for two hours this morning. My legs hurt.” 

“You didn’t stretch before you started?” Soap asks. 

“No! I didn’t know we’d be hiking halfway across the country when I was told to get up at 5 am!” You continue to pout. 

“Come on, you’ll survive.” Price says, clipping your backpack across your chest again. “You can sleep for the rest of the day.” 

You definitely have blisters, the sides of your feet burning as you walk down the stairs. You’re going to take a very long shower when you get back to base, and then crawl into bed and sleep until someone inevitably knocks because they’re worried about you. You’re still pouting, not having even thought about how you were going to get back to base. 

Soap stops at the bottom of the steps, turning to glance at you behind him as he bends down slightly. “Hop on, hen.” 

It takes you a moment to conceptualize what he’s doing before you break out in a grin, putting your hands on his shoulders to hoist yourself onto his back. His hands grip the backs of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as he carries you piggy-back style. 

“I’ve lifted weights heavier than you, bonny.” He says, not seeming to struggle at all with carrying you. 

“Well, omegas are supposed to be small.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“Aye, like a wee bairn.” Soap laughs. 

He carries you all the way back to base, barely even breathing heavily by the time you break the treeline. The rocking motion of being carried, along with your exhaustion, has lulled you into a daze, your head leaning against his as you desperately fight sleep. 

You’re jostled awake as Soap gently bounces you on his back. “We’re back, hen.” 

You grumble sleepily, holding onto him tighter. “Comfy.” 

“You’ll be comfier in bed, love.” Gaz says, stroking your hair. 

“Carry me.” You murmur, both of them freezing. 

“You sure about that, hen?” Soap asks. “You wan’t tae let us in your space?” 

“Mmm...yeah.” You murmur, nuzzling Soap’s shoulder. 

You miss the silent conversation between them in your half asleep state, the way Gaz’s hand hesitates on the knob, their slow, cautious steps into your space. It was a big deal, infringing upon an omega’s space. It’s sacred. One could only enter with permission, or if it was an emergency. Infringing on that space without permission could be detrimental. 

Soap gently lowers you onto your bed, helping you curl up on your side. Gaz unties your boots, setting them on the floor next to the bed before pulling off your socks. He lets out a quiet hiss as he spots your raw and blistered feet. 

“That’s going to hurt later.” He whispers. “No wonder she didn’t want to walk back.” 

“Didnae say nothing either.” Soap says, his fingers trailing your cheek. 

“Stubborn little omega.” 

Gaz’s words are the last you hear before you’re lost to sleep, your brain forcing you to give in to your exhaustion finally. 

It’s knocking at the door that wakes you. You’re not sure what time it is, or what planet you’re on. Your eyes are crusty with sleep, your pillow damp from drooling. You’re in your bed in the barracks, tucked under a blanket. You vaguely remember giving Gaz and Soap permission to enter before you were out again. 

It’s still daylight, judging by the light around the edges of your curtains. Or maybe you had slept through the day and it was morning. You can’t tell, feeling a bit like you were hit by a bus and jumped dimensions. 

“C’mon lass, ye got tae eat at least one meal today.” Soap’s voice calls through the door. 

You let out a groan, pushing yourself up to sit. You haven’t even changed or showered, but your shoes have been removed. You flex your toes, wincing at the sharp pain from them. You pull the blanket off, staring down at your bandaged feet. They must be as blistered and raw as they had felt in your shoes. You don’t want to get up. You’re going to be sore and probably walking with a limp. 

You know what they’re going to think. 

The stares you’ll get. 

Soon it will be for that reason, though, you think. Why not let them think it now? Then maybe by then they’ll be used to it and it’ll be much less mortifying for you. 

You get up, padding barefoot to the door. You open it, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?” Your voice sounds rough with sleep, your tongue feeling heavy. 

“Almost 1800 hours.” He answers. “Price let ye sleep. He and Gaz already ate. Had something tae take care of.” 

You let out a quiet groan as you rub your eyes. You slept all day, past lunch and nearly past dinner. You likely would have kept sleeping, had they let you, but then you’d be up at an ungodly hour having to scrounge for food in the rec room. 

“Get some shoes on.” Soap says. “We’ll get food in ye, then ye can sleep more.” 

You let out a quiet grumble but do as he says, grabbing your most comfortable pair of shoes before following him out of the barracks. You let your hand slip into his, the base less populated on the weekend. The mess is still busy, though, most of those that stay keeping their schedules even over the weekend. 

Soap helps you make your tray before finding Ghost sitting at a table. You deposit your tray across from them before going to grab something to drink. You look over the options, your sleep-drunk brain trying to decide on what you need. 

“I recommend coffee.” A voice says behind you. 

You spin around, looking up at a familiar face. Your stomach twists nervously, the back of your neck prickling. It’s the soldier that had been staring at you your second day on base, the one Ghost had scared off with his glare. 

“You look like you need it.” He says, giving what you assume is supposed to be a friendly smile, except to you it looks like the grin of a hungry wolf in a storybook, and you’re the injured rabbit about to be devoured. You flinch just slightly as he holds out a hand. “I’m Corporal McKinney.” 

You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t want to touch him at all. Catcalling you could handle, the stares and the whistles were nothing. None of them have been so brave as to approach you before now, and you’re starting to realize you prefer it that way. 

An overwhelming scent suddenly washes over you, the prickling at the back of your neck intensifying. It’s rich and deep, the scent of leather and gunpowder lacing the ozone-like tang of anger, of danger. 

“Can I help you, Corporal?” The deep voice rumbles behind you, the warmth close enough all you’d have to do was lean back slightly and you’d be touching him. 

The soldier’s eyes lift from you to Ghost behind you, the wicked gleam to them fading as he stares down the giant alpha. “No, sir.” The soldier swallows thickly. “Just thought I’d introduce myself to the new omega on base. Figured we’d be seeing a lot of her around.” 

“She’s no concern of yours.” Ghost says, a dangerous rumble vibrating at the edge of his voice. “You were given the briefing.” 

He hesitates and you know he’s measuring the risk of staying, of saying something else. It’s not just the threat of a dangerous alpha, but also of his superior. “Of course, sir.” He finally says, eyeing you once more before he turns on his heel, leaving the mess. 

“What do you want?” 

You turn on your heel, staring up at Ghost. You’re shaking a little, staring up at him wide-eyed. You no longer feel the haze of sleep, wide awake and alert. Ghost is staring down at you, his scent far less prominent than it had been before.

“To drink.” He motions to the selection, waiting on you to answer. 

You stare at the options, your brain trying hard to snap back into the present, to comprehend what you’re looking at. You’re on edge, on high alert after that confrontation. 

“W-Water please.” You manage to stutter out, 

“Go sit back down. I’ll get it.” He says, turning his back to you. 

You scurry back to the table, still trembling as you take your seat again. You’re getting stares, likely from the change in your scent. It’s alerting every alpha and beta in close proximity, their instincts reacting to the scent of fear, of an threatened omega. 

“Ye alright, hen?” Soap asks, giving you a worried look. The scent of beta washes over you, Soap projecting his scent to try and cover yours and calm you all at once. 

You nod, trying to swallow the panic before you alert the entire mess to your current emotional state. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” 

Ghost returns with a glass of water, setting it in front of you before taking his seat again. 

“Thank you.” You murmur, taking a long drink of it. It’s ice cold, the sensation shocking you back into reality a bit. 

You’re still trembling slightly as you eat, the back of your neck still prickling. You glance around the quickly emptying mess, eyes following every person that walks too close to the table. You know you’re safe. Soap and Ghost would make quick work of anyone who tried anything. 

Ghost did make quick work of the alpha that had approached you. 

You’re still in a bit of disbelief that Ghost had come to your aid. You remember the anger burning in his scent, the rumble at the edge of his voice. An alpha poised for a fight. Of course, you were being cornered by another alpha. You don’t doubt Soap could have easily won that fight if he had to, but an alpha had the natural advantage in a fight against other alphas. If it had been a beta cornering you, would he have still come to your aid? Or would he have watched and let Soap handle it? 

You're drawn from your thoughts as Soap’s phone rings, and he dismisses himself from the table to answer it. You wonder who it might be. Family maybe? Price? You wish you had someone that would call you regularly. You will, once they start leaving you. 

You’re left alone with Ghost, your eyes trying to look anywhere but at him. He takes your tray once you’re done, going to dump it before motioning for you to follow. You’re still a bit shaken, though you’ve managed to get your trembling under control, as well as your scent. 

He leads you back towards the barracks, your pace faster to keep up with him. Your feet hurt, but you’re eager to get back to the familiar safety of the barracks. 

You stop as a whistle sounds through the air, Ghost’s steps faltering as well. 

“Gonna go spread your legs for that freak, bunny?” A voice calls out across the courtyard. “I’m sure I could offer you a better time. At least you’ll be able to see my face.” 

The smell of ozone washes over you again, burning straight to some primal part of your brain. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion, or the emotions still reeling from your confrontation in the mess, but you turn on your heel, stalking over to the group of soldiers. You’re trembling again, but not out of fear. The anger has gone straight to your instincts, burning hot through your veins. 

The soldiers laugh as you approach, the one that had spoken grinning vilely at you. “Gonna take me up on my offer, omega?” The sound of your title from his lips nearly makes you shudder in disgust. It’s wrong, it sounds wrong being said in such a way. “I’d love to bend you over and stare at that sweet ass all night-” 

It’s not until your hand is throbbing that you register what happened. The soldier stumbles back a step, hand moving to his face. Your hand is balled in a fist, knuckles throbbing from the punch you delivered to his face. The next few moments seem to move in slow motion, your body pushed backwards as a hulking form comes to stand in front of you. The scent of ozone is still burning hot in your nose, anger pulsing through your body. Your ears are ringing, your hands refusing to unball from the fists they’ve closed into. You’re breathing heavily, eyes training on a small speck of mud on the back of Ghost’s jacket. 

���-You even so much as look in her direction again, I’ll rip your intestines out, tie them to the back of a humvee and drag you all the way to London, understood?” The dangerous rumble is back at the edge of his voice, his own hands balled into fists. 

“Loud and clear, sir.” The soldier spits out, massaging his face from your punch. 

A rough hand closes around your arm, making you stumble as you’re half dragged towards the barracks. You’re breathing heavily, breaths coming in gasps as the flood of emotions through you grows to almost be too much. You’re led down the hall towards the rec room, Ghost pushing you inside. 

“Sit.” He snaps, pointing at the couch.

You scramble to sit where he pointed, your brain beginning to move in autopilot as you cradle your throbbing hand to your chest. It’s still curled in a fist, the adrenaline pumping through you preventing you from uncurling your fingers. You try to steady your breathing as Ghost digs around in the fridge for a moment. You flinch as the door slams closed, Ghost dropping an ice pack on the coffee table before he takes a seat next to you on the couch. 

He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him rather roughly. He forces your fingers to uncurl, his own rough fingers digging into your hand, poking and prodding. He moves your fingers, bending your wrist and moving your arm. “It’s not broken.” He says, grabbing the ice pack and slapping it across your knuckles. “Luckily.” 

You’re still trembling, your hand lifting subconsciously to hold the ice pack in place. You feel dazed, not unlike you had earlier when you’d been pulled from sleep, only this time you can feel the emotions still pulsing through you. The remnants of anger, the disgust, the fear both from attacking an alpha, and the reprimanding you’re sure you’re due for doing such a thing.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” You murmur, feeling far away, outside of your  body looking in. 

“Probably not.” Ghost says. 

You turn slightly to look at him, pupils dilated as you simultaneously appear to see him and look straight through him. “Price is gonna find out.”

Ghost nods again, the burn of ozone gone from his scent. “He’ll believe you, though. Anything you tell him, he’s going to believe you over what anyone else says.” 

You stare at him, the skull mask from earlier gone, leaving him just in his balaclava. His eyelashes are blonde, you think as you take him in, trying to ground yourself. His skin looks soft, but that could just be the omega screaming at you. You expect him to get up, to leave you alone until you find the will to move, or one of the others finds you. Yet, he stays where he is, eyes focused across the room as you sit there. 

“You’re a purebred alpha.” You say, breaking the silence with the thought that had come to mind earlier. You need to keep talking, to keep your mind steady while you relax. 

“How did you figure it out?” He asks, not denying it. 

“Your scent.” You say, recalling earlier in the mess, the way his scent had permeated your entire body. You hadn’t just sensed it, you had felt it. His emotions, his anger, the hint of desperation for the Corporal to make the smart decision and walk away. “It’s different from other alphas. Price smells good and I’d like to roll around in his scent, but yours hits some deep primal part of my brain.” You say, turning slowly to face him. “Makes sense you’d end up in a position like this. You’re supposed to be like, an apex human.” You laugh quietly. “Just a couple of purebreds. What are the odds?” 

“Very high.” He answers. 

You laugh again. “Yeah, I know. Both of my parents were purebreds, and my grandparents. Both of them came from a long line of purebreds.” Your brows pinch into a frown. “I didn’t see it in your file, though.” 

“I don’t want it to be.” He explains. 

“Makes sense.” You say. “If I’d had that choice I’d have it left out too. As soon as someone sees it, that’s how they measure your worth. It’s not about you anymore, it’s your status they want.” You lift the ice, moving your fingers. Your hand is sore, your knuckles starting to swell a bit. 

“It’ll bruise.” He says, staring down at your hand. 

“‘Spose it could have been worse.” You say, grimacing at the ache pulsing all the way to your shoulder.

“Yeah,” He scoffs. “You could have broken your arm with a punch like that.” 

“‘S not my fault the CIA didn’t teach me much.” You murmur. “They mostly made me run.” You remember the hours and hours you spend running circles around the gym. So many circles, over and over again. 

Get involved in their hobbies. Your brain flicks through that section of the book, an idea beginning to form in your head. You’d considered it a few days ago, when you first read that chapter. Ghost speaks in violence and warfare, fighting and defending. How do you bond with the apex of humankind? 

“Teach me to fight.” 

His eyes shift slowly until he’s looking at you. You wish you could see the rest of his face, read his expression. His eyes don't give you much to go off of, something he'd likely perfected over the years. 

“Or, at least defend myself.” You continue, fighting the urge to shrink back under his gaze. “I know, Price already told me to run first, but what if that's not an option? Am I gonna throw a shitty punch and hope it works? Aim between the legs and hope I'm faster than they can block? I promise I won't go around trying to fight asshole alphas.”

He continues to stare at you, his eyes locked on yours. Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach twisting nervously but there's no challenge in his gaze, not even a playful one like you'd initiated with Price. He's simply staring. 

You wonder what he's looking for, what he's thinking. Will he laugh at you for asking? Tell you to ask someone else? Get Price to do it since he’s actually your alpha? 

“Fine.” He grunts, breaking eye contact first as he pushes himself to stand. “We start Monday. Early.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him leave the rec room. You may have just found your way into Ghost’s heart, or at least a way to get him to tolerate your presence. 

Monday. Early. 

You’ll be ready. 

NEXT ->

Taglist Part 1:

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[thewickedjazzy]

Level 1: Easy Revenge [Aphrodisiac] for Kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩Chuuya Nakahara x afab! Reader

ᡣ𐭩Synopsis : rivals to fuckers! you and chuuya are always butting heads, competing for mori’s right-hand spot. done with his games, you take matters into your own hands, slipping aphrodisiac into his favorite wine.

ᡣ𐭩Warnings: mdni 18+ content, smut with plot, aphrodisiac use, rough sex, sweat sex, female anatomy mentioned, degrading, feral chuuya, creampie, missionary, fingering, list goes on and on ppft it's kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩Word count: 3.5k

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

you scrunch your nose, contemplating whether this is truly the right choice. with a sigh, you light another cigarette, but the pull of smoke does little to calm your nerves. frustrated, you shake your head—maybe it's too risky. yet the memory of his smug smirk as he belittled your ability—"useless against mine"—flares in your mind, igniting rage within you...fuck it!

that’s all it takes. the decision is made. with a grin curling your lips, you slip the drug into his glass, watching the liquid swirl as it dissolves. you don’t see him as an enemy, no—rivals, more like. rivals who have been vying for mori’s approval, constantly butting heads, showing off on missions, each of you out to prove who deserves to be the right-hand executive more.

the man in question has known you for nearly four years now. he knows your strengths, your sharp wit, and how you can hold your ground. but does he know how manipulative you can be? oh, not quite.

you press your lips into a thin line, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady your racing heart before stubbing out your cigarette. adjusting the fabric of your burgundy skirt, you feel the black coat draped over your shoulders, its weight heavier than usual. your fingers brush over the cool crystal of the two wine glasses, and you glance at the bottle sitting prominently on the table.

vosne-romanée aux reignots—a rare indulgence, most of your paycheck sacrificed for this exquisite temptation. But the price doesn’t matter now. the ginger is the target tonight, and the prize will be well worth it.

your heart pounds enthusiastically as you hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching from behind his office's door. the click of polished shoes reverberates through the quiet corridor. perfect timing.

you take the opportunity to move quickly, gracefully settling onto the nearby leather couch, the cool material sighing beneath you as you take off your coat and place it beside you.

tou hold your wine glass between your fingers, the stem balanced delicately, your burgundy nail polish gleaming against the deep crimson of the wine. it’s a picture of elegance, one you’ve carefully curated—every detail intentional, even the way you let the liquid swirl lazily in the glass.

the door swings open, and there he is—the infuriating ginger who keeps you up at night, constantly plotting ways to put an end to his ridiculous games.

his movements heavy laced with exhaustion as he strides in, eyes closed, head hanging forward huffing in frustration, he yanks off his coat, tossing it carelessly onto the couch beside you, the leather creaking under its weight. he’s still oblivious to your presence. it’s almost amusing, really. you take in the sight—his bolo tie loosened, his dress shirt slightly untucked, his usually collected demeanour crumbling at the edges from a long day.

it’s only when you clear your throat, the sound slicing through the silence, that his eyes shoot open, narrowing immediately as he notices you lounging in his space.

“what the fuck are ya doin' here?” he snarls. classic—his sharp gaze flicks to the wine in your hand, then to the second glass on the table.

you don’t budge. instead, you take your time, tsking softly, rolling your eyes with the kind of practised nonchalance that only gets under his skin more. “is that any way to talk to someone who just bought you an expensive-ass vosne-romanée aux reignots?”

you tilt your head, letting the scent of the wine blend with the faint aroma of leather from the couch, easing you for a bit.

“are ya fuckin' serious now?” he scoffs.

clearly, he hadn’t expected you—of all people—to buy him one of his favourite, expensive wines. his gaze flickers again between you and the glass, his mind no doubt racing, trying to piece together the puzzle of your intentions. what are you scheming? he doesn’t trust you. that much is obvious, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he contemplates what game you're playing this time.

you smirk, cutting off his spiralling thoughts as you rise gracefully from the couch. with a casual wave of your hand, your so-called "useless" telekinesis comes into play, and the glass of wine—now laced with the aphrodisiac—glides through the air, hovering just before you as it rests between your fingers.

"here," you purr, stepping toward him, the glass now offered in an outstretched hand. "I’ve been thinking... about putting an end to this never-ending cycle of torture between us."

chuuya’s gaze locks with yours, fatigue etched into his features, yet despite his weariness, there’s an undeniable allure, every ragged breath only amplifies his seductive charm.

"you win, nakahara," you continue, your voice luring him like a siren. "let me make it up to you for always getting on your nerves these past four years, yeah?"

ugh, how much he hates it when someone calls him by his last name... it feels like you’re doing it on purpose.

the ginger's eyes dart from the glass to your face, his lips curling into his usual suspicious smirk. he doesn't reach for the wine right away, keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets as he tilts his head slightly, studying you. “tch, and what’s this sudden change of heart? you don’t fold that easy, especially not to me.”

“you really expect me to believe you just… gave up? that’s bullshit.”

“oh, chuuya... you know me better than that. but even rivals need to call a truce every now and then, right? a little peace offering.” You nudge the glass closer to him, the delicate scent of the wine swirling between you. “come on, take it. i’m just trying to be civil. is that really so hard to believe?”

“civil? from you?” he huffs, shaking his head slightly before finally reaching out to take the glass.

“alright, fine. but don’t think i’m lettin’ my guard down ‘round you.”

"not in the slightest," you reply with ease, watching as he brings the glass to his lips. his expression remains doubtful, but the rich scent of the expensive wine causes his taste buds to tingle and his mouth to water. You know him far too well—well enough to play your cards just right.

as he takes a slow sip, savouring the taste, a surge of triumph rises within you. it’s only a matter of minutes now before you can set the second part of your perfectly crafted revenge plan into motion.

he lets out a low, satisfied hum as the wine glides smoothly down his throat. He tilts the glass slightly, eyeing the dark liquid within, almost as if he’s trying to figure out what your angle is. but he can’t resist—his love for fine wine is too deeply ingrained, and this, of course, is one of his favourites. you can already see his guard starting to slip, just the slightest.

"not bad," he mutters, still watching you over the rim of his glass. "but i know you, and you don’t play nice for no reason. what’s really going on here?"

you flash him a coy smile, stepping a little closer, your fingers lightly brushing against the cool rim of your own glass. "maybe i’m just tired of these endless games, nakahara. maybe I’ve decided it’s time for a change. orrr maybe..." you pause, pressing your lips together, "...I just wanted to see if I could surprise you for once."

he scoffs but takes another sip, the warmth of the wine starting to flush his cheeks. unbeknownst to him, the aphrodisiac is already beginning its work, creeping through his veins, dulling the sharp edges of his suspicion. you can see it—the subtle shift in his body language, the way his shoulders loosen, his gaze softening ever so slightly, his now half-lidded eyes, the slight crease that forms between his brows as his body begins to betray him.

the countdown has begun.

"surprise me?" he says, setting the now-empty glass down on the table, a faint sheen of sweat forms at his temple, barely noticeable beneath the soft glow of the office's light.

"well, you’ve got my attention. now what?"

you take a slow breath, feigning innocence as you glance at him through your lashes. "now... we see just how much you can handle."

he narrows his eyes at you, confused, "what?" he rasps, his voice a little rougher than before. his breathing grows heavier, and you notice the way his chest rises and falls with each intake of air. sure, indeed, the drug is coursing through his veins now, the heat in his body building beyond what he can suppress.

he swallows hard, his throat bobbing, his hands twitching at his sides. you can see how his jaw clenches and relaxes in rapid succession, his mind trying to keep up with the unexpected sensations taking over. He shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable as he tugs at his collar, loosening it. “what the hell’d ya do?”

without waiting for an answer, he reaches up and starts unbuttoning his vest, tossing it aside with a huff, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from his brow.

you can’t help but giggle. "wow, I thought these things took a little longer to kick in."

"you—ngh—" he starts, but his words catch in his throat as he takes another deep breath, trying to steady himself.

you watch with a growing thrill as the bulge in his pants becomes undeniably visible. a soft, wicked chuckle escapes you as you lift your leg, pressing it against the armrest of the chair, just enough to let him catch a glimpse of your laced black panties peeking out from beneath your burgundy skirt.

"aww, what’s the matter? can’t use that oh-so-useful ability when you’re too fucked out of your mind?" you tease, giggling at the ginger-haired man caught in your little trap.

“fuck… you…” he manages as he glares deadly in your eyes, face flushed, the heat spreading from his cheeks down to his chest, which is now exposed from the hastily loosened buttons of his dress shirt. his breathing is ragged, each intake of air a struggle as the drug's effects entwine with his rage.

you chuckle, tilting your head slightly as you eye him up and down. "pathetic."

before you can say another word, he snarls, and in an instant, his gloved hand shoots out, fingers locking into your hair with a firm grip earning a yelp from you. he yanks you forward, the sudden force pulling you off balance as you fumble right into his lap.

and only then that he smashes his lips against yours into a sloppy kiss, the lingering taste of wine on his tongue melds with the intoxicating heat that surges from your mouth, flooding your veins until it pools deep in your stomach, igniting the desire you’ve fought to suppress for years. spit mingles with the remnants of your pleasure, slicking your lips and trickling down your chin. he gasps into the kiss, pulling you even closer, leaving you no space to escape.

the heat radiating from his body is unbearable, seeping through your clothes as you sit straddled on his lap and you can feel his hard cock against you, pressing against the thin fabric of your panties. his hands are everywhere—roaming, gripping, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you at once.

you try to pull away, desperate for air, but he doesn't let up. he follows your retreat, lips chasing yours with a frantic hunger, completely lost in the desire overtaking him. his lips crash against yours again, “ch-chuuya, wa—mph” you try, but the second you say his name, his grip tightens against your hip, and he swallows your words with another kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth again, tasting every part of you like he can’t get enough.

one of his hands moved from your hips, working up your shirt, and before you even realize what he’s doing, he pulls, buttons snapping and scattering to the floor. You let out a low growl, annoyed that your favourite shirt is now ruined, but it’s clear—he’s far beyond caring about anything right now. “shut up,” he growls between kisses, “y' knew what you were doing when you started this.”

before you can respond, he yanks off his gloves with his teeth, half-lidded dark azure eyes clearly promising you of a night that you shall not forget. his hands grip your waist firmly, and without warning, he lifts you effortlessly and throws you onto the leather couch. the cool material hit the fevered heat of your skin once again, but the reprieve is short-lived as you watch him hastily unbuckle his belt, his pants falling to the floor and his boxers following suit.

the moment his cock springs free, your breath hitches—fuck, he’s thick. Insanely thick. the sight of it sends a jolt of desire straight through your dripping core, making your thighs instinctively press together. you’d thought about this before, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

it’s beautiful, flushed a deep shade of pink with veins running along the sides, pulsing with the need to feel your gummy walls tighten around it. the head glistens with precum, the sight alone making your mouth water. he’s long too, but it’s the sheer girth that has your heart racing and your mind spinning, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to take him.

“you nasty girl,” he taunts, his gaze never leaving yours. “you were just lookin’ for an excuse for me to fuck you?”

you don’t deny it—not even to yourself. the truth stings in your chest. part of this was revenge for what happened earlier today, but the other part? well... you wanted this. hell, you needed this.

you bite your lip, flashes of memory crossing your mind—the number of times you walked by his office late at night, hearing those soft, lewd moans slipping through the cracks of the door. the rhythmic slap of his hand working up and down his cock as he sat behind his desk, thinking no one could hear him. but you did. you heard it all. and you couldn’t stop yourself. your back pressed against his office door, fingers working frantically between your legs as you listened to him come undone, biting down on your lip to stifle your own moans as you cum to the sound of him alone.

you feel your cheeks heat with the realization. of course, he’s right. you’d been waiting for an excuse, and tonight, you finally got one.

“you wanted to see me like this, hmm?” his voice cuts through your thoughts as he strokes himself, his cock hard and heavy in his hand. his smirk widens as he watches the way your body responds to him, the way your thighs clench together, the way your breath quickens with each passing second. “enjoyin’ how desperate you’ve made me? ngh—don’t worry, you’re gonna get exactly what you’ve been begging for.”

he climbs onto the couch, towering above you with a lust glint in his eyes. his hands waste no time yanking your skirt up, the fabric bunching around your waist as he grabs the waistband of your panties and rips them off with a low hiss. the sudden contact makes you gasp, your body betraying you as you arch your back, pressing yourself against him. his breath catches when he sees how soaked you are.

“fuck…” he breathes, a low hum of amusement rumbling in his chest. he’s still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, sweat glistening on his skin. his fingers graze your slit, feeling the wetness pooling there, and a wicked grin curls on his lips. “fuck, you’re soaking wet. look at you, maybe you're not as in control as you thought,” he growls chuckling, his ever so pale cheeks were flushing red by now, ginger locks sticking to the sides of his face.

you moan as two of his fingers slip inside you, your back arching against the couch as his slender digits stretch you. they sink deep, curling just enough to make you gasp, your cunt clenching around them as he moves with an agonizingly slow pace. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, every breath he takes coming out ragged, like he’s barely holding himself together.

"what's wrong, doll" he whispers against your lips, "can't handle it? you wanted to play this game, didn't you hmm?"

your mind is spinning. each touch, each thrust of his fingers drives you closer to the edge, and you can't help but curse yourself for underestimating him. you had thought you'd be the one in control, but now...

now, you're the one falling apart beneath him.

he pumps his fingers harder, your walls fluttering around them, and you let out another lewd moan, the wet sound filling the room and making his cock twitch with an urgent need for release “hah—fuck it, I need to feel you.”

the heat was too much for him to bear. driven by an insatiable hunger, he yanks his fingers from you, bringing them to his lips. he sucks them clean with a low, needy hum, eyes half-closed in pleasure. his cock, already glistening with precum.

obviously he isn’t in the mood for teasing tonight, fuck no. he wants to be inside you, to feel you right here and now.

he guides himself between your the soft plush of your thighs, his breath hitching as he aligns with your slick entrance. with a low feral groan, he pushes inside, feeling your tight walls envelop him completely. his body, consumed by the sheer amout of pleasure, drove him to thrust balls deep inside you, arms hooked under your legs as he lets out a high-pitched moan, "aah- FUCK!!"

“you..ahh fuck.. thought you could outsmart me?” he growls, his breath hot against your ear as he leans down, his thrusts never faltering. "you shoulda known better than to pull that kinda shit on me."

his words only make you burn hotter, your body responding to him in ways you didn’t expect. you were supposed to have the upper hand tonight, but instead you're a moaning mess at this point, sweet whimpers spill from your lips, overwhelmed by how deeply he’s stretching you causing a slight sting that quickly gets replaced by a tingling pleasure shooting through your entire body. each powerful thrust has you screaming, your mind overwhelmed by the intense pleasure that floods through you with every forceful slam against your ass.

his breaths are trembling, gasps turning into whimpers as he struggles to keep control. his eyes roll back, revealing only the whites as the heat and ecstasy take over, "nghh— fuck yess-"

hot chills ripple through his body, his veins pulsing with the relentless heat of his desire. oh, he was far too gone. the way you make him feel so good? it's illegal. but how could you complain when he was making you feel so incredibly good, filling every inch of you?

threading your fingers through his ginger locks, you tug sharply, drawing a low growl from him. he brings his lips down against yours, then pulls back just long enough to groan, “fffuck, you feel heavenly.”

he quickens his pace thursting his hips into you at just the right angle hitting all the right spots that have you cursing some nonsense, he snakes his hand down between your soft thighs applying the perfect amount of pressure against your clit fingers working rapidly while driving you wild with each thrust. your moans become a continuous cry as your orgasm finally crashes over you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. your vision blurs, your entire body tensing as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

"chuu-ya!" you cry out, your back arching off the couch as your walls clench around his cock, milking him for everything he’s worth.

chuuya groans, his rhythm faltering as your orgasm sends him spiralling toward his own release. with one final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you balls deep. his cock twitches as he spills deep inside you, filling you with his hot white ropes.

the wet slap of his cock that was thrusting hardly into your pussy became slower, sloppier as he pulls out.

for a moment, the world is silent, save for the sound of your heavy breathing. the rivalry, the tension, the mind games—they’re all gone, replaced by the undeniable truth of what just happened.

after both of you come down from the high, you push yourself up, panting softly as you gather your scattered clothes from the floor.

you glance over at chuuya, only to notice he’s already hard again, his body still betraying the intense pleasure of moments before.

“UGH FUCK!!" he curses loudly, throwing his head back with annoyance written all over his face.

you let out a soft, amused giggle at the sight. it looks like he was only getting started. Maybe you accidentally doubled the dose... purely by mistake, of course.

kouyou chuckles as she leans back in her chair, glancing at the camera feed.

"kouyou-sama... it's been an hour since chuuya went in," the technician reports shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

The ginger woman chuckles, covering her lips with the sleeve of her kimono, "well... either one of them is dead, or they’ve discovered that the desk isn’t just for paperwork anymore."

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetfruity @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @alyszuha @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro

[cinnamanz]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. ONLY ON CAMERA ᝰ.ᐟ DANIELA AVANZINI

❝𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑,

𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀.❞

when katseye's main dancer daniela avanzini accidentally throws shade at chart-topping singer y/n l/n on an interview, the internet erupts in chaos. with y/n already in hot waters with the press over her latest scandal, both their pr teams scramble for damage control. the solution? a 'picture-perfect' fake relationship to turn the headlines in their favor.

❝𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄,

𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀.❞

tags .ᐟ smau, crack, fluff, one-sided hate, love-hate relationship, coarse language, suggestive themes, celebrity! au, sexual jokes, mentions of substances, highly toxic relationships, red flags, toxic ppl, angst sometimes, my writing (shite)

featuring .ᐟ katseye, p1harmony, enhypen, aespa n more celebs.

pairing .ᐟ daniela avanzini x female reader.

status .ᐟ completed— 21 jan 25.

notes .ᐟ this smau was made for fun and entertainment. it is not an actual portrayal of the people mentioned in this smau, nor are the photos used to portray y/n. let's just say that some kpop groups mentioned are living in california. y/n is lwk based off billie eilish. ignore timestamps. divider cred : @/mikeykuns.

❝𝐈𝐓 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄,

𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀.❞

❝𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒,

𝐈 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒.❞

PROFILES!

THANK YOU BEYONCÉ KATZEYE BY MEGAN KATZEYE BY MEGAN PT. 2

01. 2014 justin beiber but worse

02. zoo wee mama

03. DATING

04. not spiderman

05. yuri blunt

06. coffee

07. punching a wall

08. pr relationship in doubt

09. lunch

10. dickhead

11. schizophreniatitis

12. stronger than us

13. shade

14. dream... nightmare?

15. angel

16. solace

17. woman loving winner

18. peace

19. pretty cute

20. MY SHAYLA

21. want to know

22. come home

23. GOD PLEASE BRING OUR FAMILY BACK TOGETHER

24. FUCK MY DISGUSTING GAY LIFE

25. assthetic

26. count your days

27. welcome back princess diana

28. congratulations?

29. albums and pcs

30. licked my screen

31. pc gone missing

32. nutcase

33. welcome home

34. our baby

35. my passenger princess and her mami

36. save the dates

37. fam meeting

38. come home pt. 2

39. 3AM

40. heavy

41. wake up

42. what the hell, no

43. understand

44. not so weird psychotic way

45. accurate representation?

46. casual

47. children of divorce

48. yuri gods

49. messages

50. whoremembers

51. she

52. the end!

bonus! incorrect texts and tweets

™ CINNAMANZ 2025

— please do not repost, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way without permission. thank you! xx

[jasperxkuromi]

Play ideas for chronically ill, disabled, or otherwise bed bound/low energy littles

Hi all! I am chronically ill. I am not comfortable sharing my specific diagnosis, but I am more than okay with talking about disability in general. Everything below is based on my own personal experiences and activities I like to do while stuck in bed. Everyone's body and experiences are different. I may list some things that just aren't an option for you, and that's okay. You are more than welcome to add on to this post with activities you do too!

🐛 Open the curtains and cloud watch! I like to look for clouds that remind me of animals or characters and day dream a story about them. If the weather is nice, consider opening your window a little bit and letting some fresh air into your room.

🐦 Bird watch! I have a bird feeder outside my window that I painted myself from a kid's kit. There are also bird feeders that have suction cups that can be stuck right on your window. You can also make your own seed ornaments. You could pick yourself up a kids book or two on learning to identify birds.

🌷 Get a window planter. You may need someone's help to set one up, but once they are in place they are fairly easy to care for. I like pansies and marigolds because they remind me of childhood, and they are low maintenance and do well in containers.

📖 Audiobooks are great for middles who want to read chapter books. If you have a library card you can borrow tons of audiobook, ebooks, and comics through hoopla and Libby for free. There are some audiobooks for younger kiddo books, but honestly I think YouTube is better for that.

🖼️ Scrapbooks and journals! Being penpals with another little is also an option, but I do recommend using basic internet safety and common sense. (I don't think you should do this if you are under 18). You could always scan/take pictures of your letter and send it digitally to your penpal instead.

🛏️ If you spend a lot of time in bed, and have the money to do so, I really recommend getting items to make your time in bed more comfortable. Extra pillows, or even a reading pillow can be helpful. Lap desks or bed tables can give you space to color or set up play scenes with small toys.

🌟 You can also decorate the area around your bed to make it more child like! Fairy lights, glow in the dark stars, bed canopies, posters, and the like.

🪑 I have a floor chair I use for times I am playing outside of my bed. Being close to the floor helps me feel small, but not having back support hurts after a short while. I have an adjustable one that I can lay flat on the floor as a sleeping mat. Very helpful for the times when I need a quick nap after playtime.

🎨 Check the seasonal and kids sections at dollar stores and Five Below. I usually find fun craft kits that can keep me occupied for a bit for really cheap.

🧶 Do your own crafts! I like the knit and crochet. Some people can do them in bed, but I find it difficult to find a comfortable way to do that. However making friendship bracelets in bed works out pretty well. They make great gifts, even for non little friends. Or you could make matching ones for you and your CG or favorite plushie!

🪀 Make your own sensory bin! You can find tons of tutorials and ideas online. Bonus is you can get most of the items you would use at the dollar store. There are tons of other DIY sensory toys you can make as well if you look around. Glitter/shaker bottles are pretty popular too.

🐇 Cuddle with your stuffed animals. Tell them stories. Play pretend. Read to them. They will appreciate all of it.

🎮 If you have an old 3DS stuffed away in a drawer somewhere, pull it back out. 3DS are fairly easy to install homebrew and there are toooons of kiddo friendly games you could get (check 3ds.hacks.guide for this, do not follow tutorials on YouTube or random websites as they very well could be outdated)

💊 Decorate your medicine organizers with stickers. If you use mobility aids you can decorate them as well! Fake flowers are great for decorating mobility aids and there are tons of ideas you can find online.

🍼 I have stomach problems that makes it hard for me to eat enough. I often drink Ensure to make sure I am getting enough calories/nutrients. I get the strawberry flavor and sometimes put it in my sippy cup and pretend it is strawberry milk 😋

😴 If you need rest, rest! You deserve to get as much sleep as your body needs. Babies and toddlers take naps all the time! Trying to just exist with chronic health issues is difficult enough. You don't need to push yourself.

[ace-turned-confused]

sea spray | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist

summary: a relaxing weekend break by the sea is just what you need, but spending it under the same roof as joel miller might not be the kind of relaxing you had in mind word count: 3,4k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied / wears a bikini & a dress / can swim, pet names, unspecified age gap, food & alcohol consumption, smut, m masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v, spitting, creampie, overstimulation, joel's filthy mouth, praise kink, size kink a/n: i actually did spend the past weekend by the sea, unfortunately without joel miller 😔 written for @mermaidgirl30's Ocean Challenge! of course it took the entire timeframe of your challenge for inspiration to strike, but it was super fun! 🩵 big hugs to @morallyinept for beta'ing & the kind words, your message legit put the biggest grin on my face LMAO ily 💜

Going away with your parents for a long weekend is just what you need — walks along the cliff path, cocktails on the beach, lounging in the sun. Plus the bonus of free accommodation and your meals being paid for. You’re long overdue for a break and this will be a good change of scenery.

The bricks burn through your sandals as you unload your bags. Midday sun blazing down on you, you’re desperate for a cold shower after two hours of traffic to get here.

“Hello?”

You’re met with silence as you push open the front door, a rare breeze coming through the windows. They must’ve gone into town. Kicking off your shoes, you pad through to your room at the back of the house and dump your bags.

You peel your clothes off and run a shower, washing off the sweat and stress of the morning. Unpacking your bags, most of your weekend attire is swimsuits and dresses; you’ll just be floating around the house the rest of the day and decide on a blue and white check bikini, pulling on plain linen shorts.

Making your way upstairs, the rest of the house is still, the only sound coming from slow waves rolling against the rocks. Kelp bobs up and down in the swell and wispy clouds dot the sky, you pull your phone out to snap some pictures to send to your friends, relishing in the tranquillity.

You hear muted footsteps and turn around, expecting to see your parents come up the stairs. Instead, you’re met with Joel Miller — your dad's best friend with nothing but a thin towel hanging low on his hips.

“Oh! Didn’t uh- didn’t hear you come in sweetheart.”

Your eyes flicker down as he adjusts his towel — he clears his throat and you snap your eyes back up to his face.

“I got in about half an hour ago, I just got out of the shower. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Your old man told me to come up for the weekend, he didn’t mention what time they’d be back this afternoon though.”

You nod and turn to look outside again, the image of Joel in his towel now burned into your mind. You don’t ask him about it — no possible explanation would stop your mind from wandering.

You were much younger the last time you saw him — just a sweet girl harbouring an innocent crush on a handsome man. Now you’re far from sweet, and that crush is far from innocent. This is the most you’ve ever seen of him — greying curls in every direction, wide chest into a soft tummy, dark trail of hair below his navel disappearing beneath his towel.

You can feel a wet spot forming on your bikini bottoms — so much for a relaxing weekend.

-

Joel’s seen you in passing and heard about your various achievements and adventures from your parents, but it’s been years since he spent so much time with you in such close quarters. He can’t remember you being so… grown up.

Seeing you stand there in just your bikini, your eyes flitting down to his towel, he almost instantly began to harden. Maybe some light conversation will calm him down.

“So, what you got planned for the rest of the day?”

You turn to face him again and he takes a steadying breath.

“I was gonna head down to the beach but it’s fucking hot out, so I think I’ll just be lazy here instead.”

“Pool’s nice if you’re keen on a swim.”

You slink past to head downstairs, stopping in front of him to look up at him.

“You wanna join me?”

“Think I’ll uh, sit this one out. Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

Scratching at the nape of his neck as you descend the stairs, he’s not sure how he’s going to survive this weekend. He shouldn’t be looking at you like this — you’re young, spritely, his best friend’s daughter — but he watches out the window anyway as you pull down your shorts, glass in hand, and dip down into the water.

He sneaks off to his room before you can notice.

-

Sitting on the edge of the bed with his head tilted to the ceiling, he’s already fully hard. He lets the towel fall open and wraps a hand around his throbbing cock. He shouldn’t do this, but who’s going to know?

Stroking himself with long, slow pumps, he closes his eyes and all he can see is you. Ass peeking out the edge of your bottoms, your tits spilling out your bikini top, so much skin. You sighed as you sat down in the water, a breathy, satiated sound — he wishes he could make those sounds spill from your mouth.

Precome leaking from his tip, he’s reaching his end embarrassingly fast. Speeding up to fist himself tightly, he imagines your hand wrapped around his cock instead. He imagines burying his tongue, fingers, cock into your cunt, tight and wet and his to have however he pleases.

It takes just one, two, three more strokes of his cock and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, biting back a moan as he comes, spilling milky ropes across his hand and lower stomach. Using the same towel to clean up his mess, he tells himself he won’t do this again, he can’t do this again.

He shifts up to lean against the headboard as he comes down from his high, deciding to stay clear of you until your parents get home. Keeping you out of sight is the best way forward, even if he can’t keep you out of his mind.

-

You spend the rest of the day in the pool, nursing a Long Island iced tea and paging through your book. Joel doesn’t show face again, but it’s for the best — you can’t stop thinking about that damn towel and how easily it could slip down.

Your phone rings and pulls you from your daydreaming; you haul yourself out of the pool and pat yourself dry, fingertips wrinkled from the water. You see it’s your mom calling, and slide to answer.

You don’t get a chance to say hello and she’s bombarding you with questions.

“Hi, sweetie! How was the drive? I hope you didn’t have too much traffic. Oh! And did you see Joel? He’s with us for the weekend, maybe he went out for the day too.”

You certainly did see Joel. You still can even with your eyes closed.

“Hi, Mom. The drive was fine, and Joel’s been here the whole day.”

“That’s nice. I hope you don’t mind, you two always got along well so your father didn’t think to tell you beforehand. Listen, why don’t you and Joel come through to town for dinner with us? I’ll send you the restaurant name.”

“Yeah, okay sure. See you soon.”

“Bye, sweetie. See you.”

She hangs up the phone and you venture inside to find Joel, heading towards the spare room. Pressing your ear to the door, you don’t hear any movement. Maybe he’s sleeping.

“Joel?” You knock on the door and hear rustling, he responds a few moments later.

“Yeah? You can- you can come in.”

You nudge the door open and he’s sitting up in bed, sheets pulled to the same height his towel was hanging earlier and it takes everything you have not to stare, debate if he’s still got that towel on or is stark naked.

Stepping just over the threshold, you lean against the wall to steady yourself and focus your eyes on his face.

“My mom called, she said we must go into town to meet them for dinner. She texted me the address.”

“Sounds good, I can drive us. I’ll just uh, get ready.”

You nod and retreat from his room in silence — you’ll be able to hold a conversation once he’s fully clothed.

-

Tonight’s restaurant is right along the shoreline, carved into the cliffside. It’s a good climb down the hillside and you’re glad you’re wearing flats, mentally noting to go easy on the drinks tonight to make it back up again. Gentle waves lap against the rocks and the sea breeze is just the refresher you need after a hot summer day.

You’ve changed into a strappy dress, the hemline falling just above your knees and Joel’s in a loose button-down and board shorts. Your parents are sitting across from you, and they’d spent the better part of an hour asking you about work and romantic prospects.

Once satisfied with your answers, they turn to focus on each other, leaving you and Joel to your own devices. With them both engrossed in conversation, you try and test the waters.

You shift your legs under the table and bump your knee into Joel’s — his hand falters as he scoops more food onto his spoon, but doesn’t pull away. You push further, pressing your thigh against his and he stills completely, peering at you out of the corner of his eye.

The unfortunate combination of the summer heat and your heavy hand when pouring your drink earlier has made you fearless. You snake a hand below the table, resting it dangerously close to the growing bulge in his shorts.

He drops his spoon, catching your dad’s attention.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, uh… Yeah, fine.” He swallows and gives them a tight smile, waiting for them to continue their conversation.

“What the hell are you doin’?” Joel practically hisses at you under his breath, eyes flashing in your direction.

You ignore him and flatten your hand, unsure if the heat you can feel is radiating from him or yourself. You continue moving upwards, the tips of your fingers brushing against the outline of his cock.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” You whisper back to him, unmoving in your chair.

You start palming him through his shorts, angling your head to look at him and a fresh wave of arousal floods your panties.

“Sweetheart, you can’t be doin’ this. Not here.”

“Say stop and I will.”

His eyes flutter closed, taking in a shaky breath. It feels like he’s already fully hard.

Just when you think you’ve won, your parents stand up and you rip your hand away, heart racing in your chest. Caught up in your teasing you hadn’t noticed they’d finished dessert and paid the bill. You look at your dad with wide eyes, hoping nobody saw anything.

“Nice dinner, everyone. Good to have you here, kiddo. We’ll see you back at the house, been a long day.”

“Um, yeah, we’ll follow you guys.” You hope you sound less startled than you feel. 

He rounds the table, a hand coming down on your and Joel’s shoulders and he walks off. You and Joel stand to follow him — your mind foggy with lust, you can feel his eyes burn into you, but you don’t dare look at him.

-

Arriving home after a charged car ride with Joel, your parents say goodnight and their door shuts behind them. The room falls silent, you’re unsure who will make the first move. Joel grabs onto your arm, dragging you through the house.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me now, sweetheart. You’re gonna finish what you started.”

He pulls your dress over your head, leaving you in just your bra and panties. Pushing you onto your bed, his eyes trail up and down your figure as you lie before him.

“What were you doing all afternoon? Didn’t see you at all.”

“You wanna know what I was doing?”

You nod and he leans down to speak into your ear, voice low and raspy.

“I was thinkin’ of you, baby. That skimpy little bikini of yours got me all hard, so instead of spendin’ my time out by the beach, I was jacking off in my room and all I could think of was you.”

A shiver runs down your spine, a small whine escaping at his words.

“Thought a lotta things about how you’d be, now we’re gonna see how much of it is true.”

He pushes you down to lie on your back, pulling your panties down. You try to cross your legs out of habit and he grabs your knees, spreading you open before him.

“Now we’re shy, are we? Don’t want me seeing this pretty pussy?”

He cups you entirely and you tilt your hips, chasing the friction of his palm against your clit.

“After that little game you played just now, you’re gonna take what I give you, and you’re gonna enjoy it.”

He wraps his arms under your legs, dragging you to the edge of the bed and drops to his knees, draping one leg over each of his shoulders. You look down at him and he stares into your eyes, flattening his tongue against you and licking a broad stripe up through your folds. He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling in tight circles and your head falls back against the bed.

“Oh, fuck, Joel.”

He chuckles into you, causing you to moan again.

“Better than the boys you normally go out with?”

He doesn’t give you time to answer, tongue circling your clit again and he drags his fingers up and down, coating them in your arousal. Pushing two fingers into your cunt, the stretch is already far more than with your own — you’re not sure how you’ll ever satisfy yourself after this.

He pumps his fingers in and out, in and out, curling them upwards and you feel heat spreading across your abdomen, your legs just beginning to tremble. You move your hands into his hair, tugging on his curls and he groans against you, speeding up his movements.

“You gonna come for me?”

“Please, Joel. Oh, god, please.”

“Go on then, come. I know you can.”

You tighten your grip on his hair, legs going stiff as you come on his fingers and his movements don’t stop, tongue flicking back and forth over your clit, fingers fucking into you relentlessly to drag out your high. With no chance to recover, he pushes a third finger into you, his pace never faltering.

“Joel, please. It’s too much.”

He pulls off from you just enough to speak, a devilish grin on his face.

“Say stop and I will. I told you you were gonna take what I gave you.”

Mouth latching onto you again, he ignores your protesting, eyes boring into your own. You can see him rutting into the side of the bed and your moans turn into whines and whimpers, the heat pooling at the base of your spine more intense than before.

“Come on, sweetheart, be a good girl for me.”

Pushing his free hand down onto you, he curls his fingers inside of you, grazing over that one spongy spot and your vision blurs. You dig your heels into his back, hips lifting off the bed as you come again, a warm stream of liquid soaking his beard that’s scratching at your inner thighs.

Chest heaving as you come down, he pulls his fingers out and sucks one into his mouth, licking it clean.

“Better than I imagined.”

He leans over you, shoving his other two sticky fingers into your mouth and you whine at tasting yourself on him.

“All that messing around and look where it got you.”

He unbuttons his shirt agonisingly slowly, a smirk spreading across his face. His eyes are blown wide, beard slick with your release as he trails his fingertips up and down your leg, the small hairs standing in his wake. You close your legs and flop back onto the bed, already feeling spent.

“Just one more thing I needa see for myself.”

Finally pulling his shorts down, that tantalising trail of hair you saw this morning spreads into wiry curls surrounding the base of his cock. He’s bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with, fully stiff as he takes himself in his hand with long strokes — thick, throbbing, and precome pearling from his tip.

“Are you gonna fuck my mouth?”

He draws circles into your leg, still stroking himself.

“Not this time. Wanna feel how tight this pussy’s gonna squeeze my cock.”

Not this time. You clench around nothing in anticipation, and he starts crawling up the bed to you.

“Be good and maybe we can use that mouth of yours another day.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, Joel drags himself through your wetness, nudging the tip of his cock against your clit.

“Gonna be a tight fit, sweetheart. Might just ruin this cunt for anyone else.”

He lines himself up with your entrance, both of your eyes locked on where you join. Pushing in just past his tip, your mouth falls open with a strangled moan.

“Warned you. Feels good, doesn’t it?” All you do is whimper in response.

“Gonna feel even better.”

He sheaths himself completely inside of you, hair at his base pressed against your clit and balls pressed against your ass. It’s the most stretched out you’ve ever been — it’s also the best you’ve ever felt and he hasn’t even started moving.

He leans over you and starts grinding his hips, pulling your bra down. Pinching a hardened nipple between his fingers, he takes the other into his mouth, swirling his tongue just the same as before.

You lock your ankles behind his back, legs wrapped around his waist and arms wrapped around his neck, holding onto him as if you’d float away. He lifts his head, a trail of spit connecting his lips to your breast. Bringing a hand up to your face, he squeezes your cheeks to force your mouth open, looking into your eyes as he spits into the back of your throat.

You moan quietly, clenching around his length and he huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“Dirty girl. You let other boys spit into your mouth, too?”

You shake your head clumsily and tighten your legs, trying your hardest to grind yourself against him.

“What’s wrong, baby? What happened to it’s too much?”

He straightens up and pries your legs off him, pressing them into your chest. His eyes are dark as he watches how you squirm and stretch around him. He angles his head forward, letting another string of saliva fall from his mouth onto your cunt and it drips down around his cock.

Using two fingers, he puts slight pressure on your clit but doesn’t move.

“You’re gonna come on my cock, and then I’m gonna come inside you. Understand?”

You’re not sure how to string words together on your own accord anymore, clit throbbing and cunt stretched out, mind filled with just Joel.

“Hey, repeat after me, come on: I’m gonna be a good girl.”

“I’m gonna be a… a good girl.”

“Next: I’m gonna come on your big cock.”

“I’m gonna come- on your big cock.”

“And to finish off: You’re gonna come inside me.”

“You’re… gonna come inside me.”

“Was that so difficult?”

He readjusts his grip on your legs and starts pounding into you, the force of his thrusts shifting you up and down, your clit rubbing against his steady fingers. Your moans are only broken by the need for more air, your voice becoming hoarse and getting higher and higher in pitch as he keeps going harder.

You start clamping down on him, the day’s heat and your teasing and the way he’s using you relentlessly quickly becoming too much.

“Come on, sweetheart. You’ve been such a good girl. Come one last time for me and I’ll fill you up.”

His words push you over the edge and he keeps fucking into you as you come. You reach down to hold onto him, your hands wrapping around his arm and you dig your nails into his skin, carving out crescent moons.

Through the ringing in your ears, you can hear him grunting, his resolve finally breaking after a few more thrusts as he spills inside of you, your walls coated in his spend as the warmth spreads throughout your body. He loosens his hold on your legs, bringing them down and massages your tired muscles.

Pulling out of you, you feel his come slowly leak out and down your folds, landing in thick droplets on the sheets. You turn onto your side, sleep already creeping up on you and he drops down behind you, his chest pressed against your back and softening cock against your ass.

“We’re going to the beach tomorrow, and I wanna see what other little outfits you got with you. Try another game like you did tonight, though, and I’m gonna have to put you in your place again.”

You huff a laugh, a gentle, satisfied smile on your face. This long weekend is suddenly far more exciting than you prepared for.

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[lunarsilver]

What are their kinks?

18+, minors do not interact

A tarot reading regarding your (sexual) partner - your current one (asking about their permission would be in good taste), or next one, or the most important one, or your future spouse... Whatever you prefer.

Pictures are from Perfect Blue.

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason for making it.

1 ~ 2

3 ~ 4

PILE 1

The Hanged Man R - Knight of Wands - Five of Swords - Back of the Deck: Ten of Cups R

What popped in my mind when looking at the Hanged Man in reverse is that your person may like light bondage and/or pleasant to the touch fabrics. Some sensual undergarments, maybe. Moreover, the character on the card in this position brings a person having an orgasm to my mind, with their head thrown back and the general body position, which makes me think your person may like to look at their partner when they climax. I also feel like they may like to be in control; they don’t enjoy “hanging down”, doing nothing, being passive. When it comes to Knight of Wands, the meaning is pretty clear. They love experimenting. They most likely have high libido and treat sex like an adventure. Next, when I looked at Five of Wands, it came to my mind they can be into people crying, like when someone cries a little from overstimulation, for example (the card shows an eye, and it looks like a teardrop runs from it). They may also be into SM or makeup sex, as the card is often about disagreement, conflicts, winning at all costs, or defeat. For some, they may be even into CNC, though this obviously is a pretty specific kink. Lastly, there is a bottle of vodka on the Ten of Cups card (in this position of the card it is turned upside down, as if something was about to be poured from it), so they can like going at it while drunk. The card may suggest your person finds non-traditional relationships appealing. For some, the card is about how this person is into these different things I mentioned but doesn’t really act on it. As a last note, I think that for quite a lot of you, this is ONS or FWB. There’s also a chance your person can be kinda self-centered when it comes to sex. That won’t be the case for everyone, obviously, but I’m writing it down. Overall, this person looks like someone who likes having fun with sex and experimenting, and most likely is rather dominant.

PILE 2

The Devil R - The Empress - Knave of Wands - Back of the Deck: The Magician

So many Major Arcana, as well as many female/feminine-presenting characters. It makes me think that, first, they fantasize about this wonderful, life-changing sex, and second, they either are very into femininity or like to lean into it themselves. I also feel like I have a lot of queer people here, especially sapphics. And if they aren’t a woman, your person still either presents feminine (and they do so out of their own choice, as a form of expression) or they wish they could. Cross-dressing may be a kink of some here, I think. There is at least one guy here (bonus points if cis and straight) who would love to be called a princess or a babygirl lol. I don’t know, I get pretty light, positive, maybe even a little playful vibes from this pile. Like, there are some himbos here, or people who hope for something good, and there’s something pure about the way they see the world. But okay, let’s stay on topic! This person of yours for sure wants to release limiting beliefs and rules, they want to experiment with sex and have fun, the Devil in reverse says it all. The Empress is all about feeling powerful in one’s femininity, and it’s either about them wanting to feel like a princess or queen or about having a partner like this. Your person is a Knave of Wands, looking with a smile into the future, free-spirited and having so many ideas they aren’t sure where to start. The Magician at the back says they manifest all this and are ready to try the whole new world that opens up to them. For most of you, this person isn’t really experienced, or maybe they were always vanilla until recently. Your person here isn’t as dirty as some other piles, they’re most likely still in the phase of finding out what exactly they like, but oh, they’ll have fun with it.

PILE 3

The Fool - The Lovers R - Queen of Pentacles R - Back of the Deck: Nine of Wands

The Fool in this deck is so flamboyant that I instantly thought “Someone’s into twinks” lol. The Fool in the card winks, looks as if he were sending a kiss to the viewer, and dances confidently, proud of his body. The Fool is the card of new beginnings, of having the power of freedom to experience the world. The Lovers in reverse look to me like people hugging and cuddling while lying on the ground, on grass. Actually, all the cards show some place outside (aside from one card, which has a one-color background), and especially with the way The Lovers look here for me, I think your person may like the idea of outdoor sex. Moreover, because the card is reversed, your person may fantasize about having many suitors and having the ability to choose - or to not choose at all. The card also suggests imbalance, so your person can be into sexual power dynamics where one person is stronger than the other - so some BDSM dynamics, or some other role play. Moving on, we have the reversed Queen of Pentacles. The card presents a woman with long, glorious hair in bold but sensual attire. Actually, with the way The Fool and Queen of Pentacles look in this deck, I believe your person may find it hot when someone has revealing clothing or some nice undergarments. I think it’s sexy for them when not everything is visible or visible well, they find it tempting and alluring. With the reversed Queen of Pentacles, I think they are into independent people who know their value. Nine of Wands suggest they want to do it long. They also want something to be left after the experience: either just fatigue, or bite marks, or bruises, or red traces (think slapping someone’s ass, either with a hand or a toy, like a paddle). And now that I think about it, for quite many of you this is about a (sexual) relationship they would like. The reversed Lovers in the center describes the power-dynamic, and The Fool and the reversed Queen of Pentacles show what kind of lovers we talk about. There’s this Queen of Pentacles who has seen some shit, and despite that, or maybe especially because of that, they find something very alluring about the Fool being an enthusiastic, confident novice. The character of Queen of Pentacles actually looks older than The Fool. Your person may like age-gaps, or like to call someone/be called “mommy” (other variants of the name, based on the gender of people involved, are also possible, of course, “mommy” simply is the strongest here). Think about which description you fit more (either in life or just in bed) - The Fool or the reversed Queen of Pentacles. Your person is the other one.

PILE 4

The World - Nine of Swords - Four of Cups - Back of the Deck: King of Wands

The World is pretty straightforward here - they fantasize about this perfect sex, which is an almost spiritual experience; one that brings the feeling of completion, of being happy. For some reason I also think about this kind of sex where you extend the experience, having long, calm pleasure (like a person with vulva sitting on the dick of another person and just squeezing and relaxing their muscles, maybe sometimes moving a few times, just to keep it hard - that’s just an example, of course). Tantric sex. Next, with these Nine of Swords, I think your person likes the idea of someone dreaming about them or not being able to sleep because they think about them (maybe because they’re touching while thinking about your person), they find it hot. Your person may really love the idea of someone finding them so attractive, they get anxious or shy about it. The image also shows handcuffs, so maybe your person is into that. This card in the deck I used for the reading looks happier and more peaceful than its most traditional imagery, and when I look at it, I’m thinking about some romantic gestures like giving flowers. Color-wise, this card and The World both are pink and purple, and have this peaceful vibe about them. It kinda looks like the person portrayed in Nine of Swords dreams about this fantastic sex life, but they’re just lying alone in their bed. On the back we have King of Wands, which represents a passionate lover, and a good one at that. Not just good. Exceptional. For some of you, this is who your person aspires to be, but I think that for more of you, your person fantasizes about someone like this. Your person gives me the vibe of someone who dreams big; they’re into these romantic, maybe a little obsessive scenarios. Of course, it is still just a scenario they like to think about, it doesn’t mean they want to actually be with someone obsessive. Overall, I think that for most of you, this person is more on the submissive side, and they like all these classic scenarios from romance/romantasy/smut books or fics. Another thing for most of you which I see, is that your person probably doesn't have a lot of experience, but they definitely think about sex and romance, and hope for a chance to experience them.

[ihave-atummyache]

skz jealous texts <3

18++ nothing exactly explicit but there is implications!!!

ot8

Bang Chan:

Lee Know:

Changbin:

Hyunjin:

Han:

Felix:

Seungmin:

I.N:

FREE BONUS IS THE PICTURE I USED FOR IN’S PROFILE PICTURE BC OMGOMGOMH HOW HAVE I NEVER SEEN THUS?!?!!?

like he’s so pretty i wanna ran my head into a wall lol

[incognitopolls]

Anon has noticed that when people around them talk about "children" without specifying age, they typically mean younger kids - like preschoolers, meanwhile anon usually imagines primary schoolers.

Bonus question for the tags: do you have younger siblings or other children in your life? (e.g. kids of your own, siblings' children, cousins, friends' kids, etc)

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[fanaticsnail]

Frills and Bundles

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,600+

Synopsis: Bound to your desk, you took to the task of testing out a new prototype of a dress Ivankov made for you. Not used to the frills and bundles, you become wrapped up in the feeling of it while your friend tries to halt his unhinged urges to do something about his pining.

Themes: Sabo x f!reader, 18+, NSFW, suggestive, Sabo is unhinged, Sabo is a little yandere, no smut - just fantasy, mutual pining, idiots in love, reader's birthday, fluff with an edge of spice beneath the surface.

Notes: Happy birthday @frillsinadress!! I hope you enjoy a small fic of Sabo longing and pining. May your day be glorious 🖤

Twin beady eyes gawked at you while sitting motionless atop your wooden desk. The shell on its back depicted the cross-hatched tattoo of your boss and leader of the revolutionary army. Your task for the day was to sit there and wait for the final report from Monkey D Dragon, and to organize a corresponding attack on the marines base with his direct orders as soon as he ordered them.

The full skirt attached to your hips gathered in heavy bunches in your lap, your chest rising and falling in strangled breaths beneath the constriction of the leathery corset Ivankov fashioned for you. Each element of the ruffled skirt weighed heavily on your hips regardless as to how you sat at your desk.

While the arrangement was beautiful, it was not at all practical while bound to the drawl of paperwork and snail-sitting. The reason you were dressed in this formal garb was specifically to train yourself how to act properly and daintily in order to infiltrate a gala, to gather intelligence for the revolutionary army in a reconnaissance mission within a small unit.

It was a bonus that you got to wear such a pretty arrangement on a day like today. Your birthday, to be exact.

While you never truly made a deal about yourself, never taking time off from your duties under Dragon to enjoy yourself, receiving the prototype from Ivankov did make you feel special in your own way. The extravagant array of frills and bundles waterfalling to the floor had the corners of your lips ticking up in a sweet smile.

Lost in your own world, you were yet to notice a presence leaning against the wooden post to your office door.

Head tilted, eyes examining, lips smiling, arms crossing, and foot tapping stood the flame emperor of the revolutionary army. Second in command under Dragon, your superior, who you answered to on occasion, and the man who recently became obsessed with you.

His obsession really seeped from the fact that you had only ever been kind and attentive to him: fetching his coat and hat when he left meetings, always dainty and poised regardless as to how well you were personally faring. From that brink came a spark within his chest that had him constantly feeling on edge. He was plagued with a lust that never seemed quenchable enough or satiated by his own pleasure while he fucked his fist to your fantasy.

Noticing your eyes left the two globes of the snail’s haunting and beady eyes to gawk down at your breasts hoisted in the corset, he felt morally obliged to do the same. As your hands traveled up to readjust them, you bunched the flesh in your hands and gave them a slight jiggle.

Sabo felt his mouth begin to water, salivating at the fantasy of picturing you palming them, while the other traveled beneath your skirts to give in to your need for release. Although all you were currently doing was toying and fussing with your seams, his mind had a way of running away with him when his eyes fell to you. Picturing all the thoughts he had of you pinching and fondling your naked breasts while he pistoned his cock, his mind for carried away as his gaze wandered lower.

His eyes stopped their mirage, hyper focussing on the fabrics bunched at your waist in an array of flowing frills. It was far too much material to get below the waist from the top. You would have to go from beneath to seek out that pretty pussy you've kept hidden from him.

Narrowing his gaze with a deep furrow of his brow, he concentrated on how much the material would prohibit such fun for you in an array of positions. The skirts almost seemed enough to hide another person beneath them.

Sabo could be that person beneath the frills and bundles for you.

Sabo wanted to be that person beneath the frills and bundles for you.

Sabo needed to dive beneath those skirts and consume your pleasure with his lips, tongue and teeth while his hands pried you apart and held you like that until you were clenching around him.

Shaking his head, he rid himself of those thoughts while gently coughing to alert you of his presence by the door.

“Sabo-!” you exclaimed, your hands frozen at their place fondling your breasts while shrouded in its corset. Face flushed, eyes wide, lips parting, and, in Sabo’s opinion, absolutely adorable: you had no idea how to react to being caught out squeezing at your breasts.

Gently smirking, he approached your station and removed his top-hat from his mop of tousled, blonde hair. Carding his digits through his locks, he sheepishly hung his head while his thighs brushed with your desk. Placing his hat down on your desk, he bit back his rising smirk and closed his eyes in humor.

“That-... Uh-...” He attempted to contain a chuckle from falling from his lips, “...New dress?” He continued to hold his eyes to the ground, peering at your fright through his peripherals.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded, finally releasing your breasts from your hands.

“One of Ivankov’s?” He rose his eyes to meet your gaze. While he feigned an air of innocence about him, that unhinged side wanted nothing than to see how much more he could fluster you. “I like it on you. A lot, actually.” He leaned his hip up to sit on your desk, gently tilting the snail aside to avoid its awakened gaze.

“I-It is one of Iva’s, yes,” you stutter, blinking rapidly while he hovers ever closer to you. “Thank you for saying so.” You gave him a soft giggle to shrug off your nerves, returning to your usual posture with a grin, “Caught me at an odd moment, I won't lie to you. I'm not used to being so constricted by ruffles, frills and bundles. Anything for the cause, right?”

Sabo chuckled alongside you as you spoke, shaking his head lightly while he took you in.

“I don't blame you,” he shrugged, leaning forward and punching a portion of the fabric between his gloved fingers, “It's rather surreal, seeing you all dressed up like this.” Using a swift motion, he slowly dragged you towards him by the nape of your neck.

Rising to your feet with his motions, you allowed yourself to be tugged up by the flame emperor and drawn closer towards him. Your lips tingle with anticipation, never truly knowing the intention he was envisioning while you rose to stand before him. Sabo had always been a little unhinged with his conversation, and you would reciprocate indulgently with his unhinged commentary every now and again for your own, personal benefit.

Now fully standing in front of him, he rose to his feet and maintained contact with you by his gloved hand while walking around the desk. Reaching forward with his unoccupied hand, he claimed yours and gently indicated for you to spin slowly with him as your partner. To the betterment of your abilities, you allowed yourself to be spun in place, skirts bunching and swaying to a soundless melody.

“So pretty,” Sabo commented on your display alongside your garment, “Such a pretty dress, for such a pretty girl.” He halted your dance, placing both hands on your waist as he slowly moved himself closer. “Any wishes for your birthday? Anything I could do to help you out while you're bound in chains to the desk?”

You giggle at his comment, gently tapping his cravat with the backs of your hands in a playful shove. Shaking your head, you smoothed the sides of his navy jacket and fixed his collar. While you craved so desperately to give into your desires and ask him to satisfy the plague of lust branded into your mind of him beneath your skirts and satisfying you while you worked, you chose to behave.

“I have all I need here, sir,” you nodded towards your desk, “And I'll be here until Dragon tells me otherwise.”

“I could hide beneath your desk?” Sabo suggested, gently thumbing at your hips and bringing his lips up to your jaw before pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek, “I have the whole day spare. I can be right here with you, and I won't make a peep.”

You shook your head at your friend, releasing his collar from your hands and gave him a playful shove.

“No distractions. I need to be at my desk until Dragon dismisses me for the day,” you nodded with a hint of melancholy to your tone, “The cause comes before all else, including pretty blondes hiding beneath my desk. Thank you for your suggestion, though. I do appreciate the offer.”

“Even on your birthday?” he suggested with a soft pout, “You're more dedicated than most of us here. I promise, as soon as you get off and away from your desk, as your friend: I will give you a birthday you won't easily forget.”

You shook your head, gently parting Sabo on the chest and returning to sit back at your desk.

“Thank you, Sabo,” you smile up at the man by your side, “You're a good friend. I'm looking forward to it.”

Giving you one last smile, he reached down and claimed your hand in his. Slowly dragging it up to his lips, he maintained eye contact while he pressed a kiss tentatively on the top of your knuckles. While the action in and of itself was sweet, the hidden promise dancing behind his eyes was raw and feral.

He knew exactly how he was going to make your day unforgettable. Each element of his date was meticulously planned and laid before him. The cuisine you favored, the sweets you preferred, a menu to sate your appetite for food, followed by the absolute cure to quench the thirst gathering in the thick, raw, primal tension rising between you.

For now, he would be satisfied by peering up at you though his blonde eyelashes, while he pictured all the ways he was going to carve your day into your memory. Confessing his love for you, expressing how devoted he was to you, and demonstrating that declaration by unraveling you in more ways you could ever perceive by every part of him he'd make available to you.

Sabo would confess.

All he hopes if that you would feel the same, and allow him to explore that with you.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[amethystsoda]

Dungeon Meshi/Delicious in Dungeon Recipe masterlist - part 1

(project started in July 2023 and ongoing! I'll continue updating as the recipes are posted — all recipes so far were created before they appeared in the anime) part 2

Recipe 1 - Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom Hotpot

comparison pics / process video / video and recipe commentary

- full list continued after the jump -

Recipe 2 - Man Eating Plant Tart

gelatin hell process 1 + process 2 / failed tart process video / comparison pics of redo / redo video with quiche

Recipe 3 - Roast Basilisk

brining / kfc super shy meme / oven setup and finished bird / planning for recipe 4 / process video

Recipe 4 - Mandrake and Basilisk Omelet (Omelette)

comparison pics / process video

Recipe 5 - Mandrake Kakiage and Giant Bat Tempura

Planning for recipe 5 and 6 / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 6 - Living Armor Soup

comparison pics and commentary on process / process video

Recipe 7 - Golem Field Fresh Veggie Lunch

planning for 7 and 8 / cooking research / process video / comparison pics

Recipe 8 - Freshly Stolen Vegetables and Chicken Stewed with Cabbage Accompanied by Plundered Bread

comparison pics / process video

Recipe 9 - Naturally Delicious Treasure Insect Snacks

planning 1 + planning 2 / coinbug carving process 1 + process 2 / gem making test / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 10 - Special Interfaith Holy Water and Exorcism Sorbet

planning / process / process video / comparison pics / second comparison with anime

Recipe 11 - Court Cuisine: Full Course Meal

planning 1 + planning 2 / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 12 - Boiled Mimic and Kelpie Oil Soap

planning / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 13 - Porridge made from Grain that was just Lying Around

comparison pics and thoughts / process video

Recipe 14 - Giant Parasite from a Giant Kraken Grilled Plain and Kabayaki-Style

eel defrosting / comparison pics and process / process video

Recipe 15 - Farcille Raspberry Tart

planning for tart / ganache process / final pictures / process video

Recipe 16 - Grilled Kelpie

planning / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 17 - Tentacles with Vinegar + Tentacle and Kelpie stew, prepared with Undine

planning / comparison pics / process video / (fullmetal alchemist stew meme)

BONUS - All the DunMeshi meals so far edit

Recipe 18 - Tentacle Gnocchi

planning / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 19 - “Let’s Cutlet the Red Dragon”

original katsudon attempt from 2023 / katsu excitement / comparison pics / process video / anime comparison

Recipe 20 - Red Dragon Meal

planning 1 / planning 2 / oxtail broth update / pickled daikon recipe / comparison pics / process video: part 1 and part 2 / recipe post

Recipe 21 - Lost Red Dragon "Ham" + Orc Medicine Toast

comparison pics / process video

Recipe 22 - Travel Rations Set for Adventurers

planning / comparison pics / process video

Recipe 23 - Jack-o'-Lantern Potage and Sauteed Dryad Buds with Cheese

planning / pumpkin bowl face / comparison pics / process video / blooper reel

BONUS - (dunmeshi zine chef contributor announcement!!!)

Recipe 24 - Eisbein-Style Cockatrice and Dryad Bud Sauerkraut

planning / sauerkraut poll / comparison pics / process video

BONUS - DunMeshi tiktok milestones!

[sunflowerhae]

GG! (Good Game!) 👾🌀👾 (L.DH)

Summary: Famous YouTuber and Streamer y/n just moved in next door to scholastic loser haechan! No sweat for him! No big deal! Not like he has her picture above his computer! Not like he owns her merch that he stayed up all night to get! Not like he cried when she started playing his favorite video game! Not like he’s completely and utterly obsessed with her and all his friends know it!

Oh wait…Major deal.

Genre: SMAU (with occasional written parts) , loser college student!Haechan x streamer fem! Reader, somewhat strangers to ???, fluff, angst, mostly just haechan being obsessed with reader (you’re welcome delulu fans!)

Starring: All members of NCT DREAM, all members of AESPA, Jaehyun (NCT)

Warnings: profanity, sexual themes and language, mentions of obsessive behavior, y’all are NAWT going to like y/n sorry 😫☺️‼️

Playlist: punch, NCT 127 // about you, The 1975 // the adults are talking, The Strokes // disco, Surf Curse // from the ritz to the rubble, Arctic Monkeys // spy?, WHOKILLEDXIX // mass anasthesia, Mediavolo

Notice: all depictions of artists are fictional and no way represent who these artists are in real life. Any similarities are simply coincidence. All pictures are taken randomly from Pinterest. Anything you would like to see removed, please message me PRIVATELY and it will be discussed.

Notes: yay! I’m so excited for yall to read this UGH. I’ve been wanting to get back into the swing of writing recently, and I’ve been super obsessed with SMAU’s and thought I’d try it out. Lmk what u think! I love a boy obsessed w me so it felt only right to make this. Enjoy! 🌀👾💥

Status: Completed (01.29.25)

P R O F I L E S

The Flops™️ | extra |

Bad Girls Club | extra |

Intro

Ch. 1 - the worlds tiniest violin

Ch. 2 - that dog in u

Ch. 3 - MISANDRIST

Ch. 4 - I need a gun

Ch. 5 - manifesting 🫶

Ch. 6 - wattpad fanfiction (written)

Ch. 7 - Lala land

Ch. 8 - check engine light

Ch. 9 - chat is this real (Bonus)

Ch. 10 - The Friendzone™️

Ch. 11 - lil dude

Ch. 12 - #virgin

Ch. 13- Renselle 4 life

Ch. 14 - suicide not postponed!

Ch. 15 - don’t HMU ❌

Ch. 16 - u broke him 💀

Ch. 17 - FTCU by Nicki Minaj (written)

Ch. 18 - lover boy

Ch. 19 - 12 baddies 1 Porsche

Ch. 20 - idiot

Ch. 21 - FUCKING DEAN?

Ch. 22 - TINY LITTLE HICCUP

Ch. 23 - The Big One (written)

Ch. 24 - the twilight soundtrack

Ch. 25 - #thankyouy/n

Ch. 26 - ur girl is whack

Ch. 27 - Stockholm syndrome maybe?

Ch. 28 - ur grounded.

Ch. 29 - pause.

Ch. 30 - Restraining Order

Ch. 31 - I’m fine.

Ch. 32 - all hands on deck (written)

Ch. 33 - pooja, what’s this behavior?

Ch. 34 - marry me, haechan

Ch. 35 - after all, it is Christmas (written)

Ch. 36 - locked in

Epilogue

🤖 Plot questions 🤖

Y/n and Haechan’s ages

☆ Main Masterlist ☆

[supernovafics]

completed series masterlist

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 6k words

warnings:  explicit language, established relationship, lots and lots of fluff, a tiny bit of angst, smut (18+), unprotected piv sex

summary: you and steve get to spend the weekend together 

author's note: this takes place about six ish months from the epilogue of this series. you don’t really need to have read everything to read this, just know that actor!steve and reader are dating and have been for the past six months, and reader works in film (production/behind the scenes stuff)🫡🫡🫡 this whole thing turned out to be so much longer than i expected omg but i was really missing actor!steve and star of the show so yeah this happened! enjoy<3333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

BONUS | ❝𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅❞

You were practically jumping into Steve’s arms when he exited the car, not even giving him a chance to grab his bag from the trunk before you were hugging him tightly. 

The soft and happy laugh he emitted in response to your antics made you smile into his neck.   

“God, I’ve missed you.”

His arms tightened around you. “I’ve missed you too.” 

You two stayed just like that for a bit, simply savoring the feeling of finally being in each other’s arms after two and a half months of not having that. Until the cold was hitting you and the red knit sweater you were wearing and Steve’s arms wrapped around you were sadly not enough to keep you warm. 

Reluctantly, you pulled out of the embrace and looked up at him. “Okay, it’s freezing out here. Let’s go inside.”

Steve nodded as he went to grab his bag from the trunk of his Uber; a small suitcase that made sense for this weekend trip to the small town that was an hour away from where the documentary you’d been working on as a producer for the last few months was filming in upstate New York. 

“Does the inside actually match the pictures on the website?” Steve asked as his free hand found yours and the two of you walked up the small path that led to the house you rented for the weekend. 

“Surprisingly yes,” You answered, about to open the front door, but then you remembered something that had somehow slipped your mind in the last few minutes; which actually made sense because being with Steve always managed to do that to you. You stopped walking before you pushed open the door and looked up at him. “Oh, okay, so I kinda fucked up.”  

He gave you a confused look. “What happened?”

“It was really cold in the house when I first got here a couple hours ago, so I turned on the heat,” You started and Steve nodded along to your words. “But, it’s broken or something because when I tried to turn it down, it didn’t work and it won’t turn off, so it’s… pretty warm inside.” 

“Oh, okay, that’s fine,” He said with a quick shrug, completely underestimating just how bad it was because you were downplaying the entire situation. “I thought you were gonna say you flooded the place or something.”

You finally pushed open the front door and let Steve walk in first, taking note of his reaction as he was hit with the heat and immediately went to pull his jacket off. 

He raised an eyebrow at you. “‘Pretty warm’?” 

“I know. I’m sorry,” You said as you pushed the sleeves of your sweater up to your elbows. “I called the lady that owns the place and she said that she can send her brother over tomorrow to fix it.”

Aside from the heat, the place was nice. You gave him a quick tour of the small space; well, only the parts that mattered— the living room that didn’t have a TV but you already had your laptop set up on the coffee table, the kitchen that was actually the perfect size for the meal that you two would be cooking later, the backyard patio that had a fire pit that you quickly told Steve would be perfect for making smores. 

And then there was your bedroom on the second floor. It wasn’t until you were closed behind the door of the room that Steve finally kissed you, spinning you around as you were pointing at the door that led to the bathroom and slotting his lips against yours. 

You knew why he had waited, and why you had put it off too— that first kiss after being apart for so long was never just a kiss; it always quickly led to more and you both hated having to interrupt it. 

You yelped in surprise before instinctively melting into your boyfriend’s touch. His hands were cupping your face so tenderly that it didn’t even bother you how cold they were; in fact, you found it as a nice contrast from the heat that took over the entire house.  

Steve guided you back toward the nicely made bed and then softly pushed you down so that you were lying on it, breaking the kiss. You wasted no time in pulling your sweater up and over your head and tossing it somewhere in the room, leaving you in your black bra. You felt near desperate to get Steve out of the long sleeve he was wearing too, but before you could make any move to do so he was leaning over you and kissing you again. 

Your fingers slipped into the belt loops of the dark jeans he was wearing and pulled him firmly against you. Feeling his hardness pressed against your thigh made you softly whine into the kiss and the quiet groan Steve let out in response sounded like music to your ears. 

He grinded against you roughly and your hips bucked upward at every one of his movements, trying to feel anything through your jeans. You suddenly wished that you had opted for wearing the skirt that you had ultimately decided to save for later. 

With a particularly rough stir of his hips, you moaned into his mouth and your hands shot up to find their home in his hair.  

“I’m sorry,” Steve mumbled against your lips. 

You hummed in confusion. “For what?”

His mouth found your neck, nipping harshly at your collarbone and making you mewl. “I really don’t wanna take my time with you right now.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Good, because I don’t want you to either.”

Clothes were shed and littered on the floor in a matter of what felt like seconds. Your head fell back against one of the pillows and Steve settled comfortably on top of you and between your spread legs, his body enveloping yours completely. You two didn’t even bother getting under the blanket; it was too hot to do so anyway.  

The feeling of his cock pressed against your inner thigh, so close yet so far from where you needed it to be, made you moan and you could feel yourself dripping at the thought of what was to come. You needed him badly and right now. 

As if reading your mind, Steve positioned himself at your entrance and pushed inside of you; your wetness making it easy for him to fill you up completely in one swift movement that made you both gasp. 

Your mind effectively became a pile of mush, but you still were coherent enough to reach up and give his hair the soft tugs that you knew he loved. It made him groan and his thrusts started to pick up speed, not taking things slow just like he said. 

It was the pent up frustration and build up from not having been with each other in person that made you both practically feral for each other. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you so much. Your pussy always feels so good. Takes me so fucking well. Shit, fuck. I love you. I love you so, so much.” Steve’s rambling was a given in moments like these. 

It was always this “hello” sex or subsequent “goodbye” sex where he would ramble on and on about how much he loved you and how perfect you were. His words came out quick and rushed as if they’d been living inside of him for so long and they were finally able to burst out. 

You became pretty much the opposite in these moments, mind running on autopilot as you took everything he was giving you. It was always so hard to form coherent sentences when all you could think about was how good he felt inside of you. 

“Shit, I’m not gonna last long, honey,” Steve said. His hand had a near-bruising grip on your hip as he pushed his cock deeper and deeper inside of you with every thrust. 

“I don’t care,” You told him, finding your voice. “I need you to cum inside me, Steve. Please.”

His hand moved from your hip and snaked between your bodies to find your clit, rubbing tight circles against the sensitive nub to bring you there with him. You let out the loudest moan and clenched around his cock in response and it abruptly sent him over the edge. He came inside you with a groan and a surprised “fuck,” hand finding and squeezing your hip once again. The feeling of his cum painting your walls nearly made you burst with him. 

He buried his face in your neck and you could feel his racing heart against your chest and it made you smile, it also made you want to kiss him. You turned your head a little, pressing a kiss into his hair, but it wasn’t enough for you. 

You gave Steve a little nudge and he lifted his head, looking at you curiously. 

“Let me kiss you,” You told him and he smiled as he leaned in and you closed the rest of the small bit of distance between you two. It was slow and languid, a surprisingly nice contrast from how rushed and intense everything had been a few minutes ago. 

When you felt sated, you pulled back. “Okay, let’s go shower.”

“No, no, wait,” Steve said, lifting off of you a bit. You should’ve known what was coming; Steve hated finishing before you— although, you didn’t really care that much because it never happened that often anyway, and honestly when it did happen you found it quite endearing. But, there was no way that he’d let you get up in this moment without making you come. 

His middle finger found your clit again and you couldn’t help but let out the softest whine and clench around his cock that was still inside you as he started slowly circling the bundle of nerves. “Need you to come for me, baby, okay?”

Your eyes fell shut and you were nodding immediately. “Mm, okay.”

You felt him kiss your cheek and then his mouth was right at your ear as his finger started moving faster and you were bucking your hips upward to feel more. “God, you look so perfect spread out for me like this. Be a good girl and come for me.”

You’d already been close so it didn’t take long for you to come around his softening cock, especially with the soft praises he was giving you. 

“Fuck, fuck, Steve.” He continued stroking your clit through your orgasm, not pulling away until he could tell that you were becoming too overstimulated. 

“Okay,” He said, lips pressing against yours in the softest kiss. “Now we can shower.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You and Steve were really good at long distance— texts and calls and FaceTimes were always frequent and you never went a day without talking to each other, even if it was just a quick conversation— but nothing would ever beat seeing each other in person. The last time was a couple of months ago when you had a few days free and you went back to Los Angeles to see him. It was great, but felt so short, and it already slightly saddened you that this weekend would be the same thing. 

Steve was making grabby hands at you the second you two stepped into the cool shower. 

“Hey, hey, no funny business right now,” You said, playfully swatting his hands away as you pulled the curtain closed. “We need to make this shower quick because there’s this outdoor Fall market thing I want us to go to. It’s like a five-minute walk from here.” 

He pressed a soft kiss against your neck and then gave you a curious look. “Is that a good idea?”

You two were still navigating how to be in public with one another and how to make it work; and if it would even be possible to make it work in the way you wanted it to. You really didn’t want to get pulled into the spotlight and Steve was completely understanding of that, so staying in when you two were together wasn’t uncommon to either of you. And it had yet to feel like a huge deal because when you two only had a few days to spend with each other at a time, going out wasn’t on either of your minds. However, these current circumstances felt pretty different because of where you two were.

You pulled back a little and let your arms come up to circle his neck, your hands finding home in the damp hair at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, we don’t have to worry here, this is such a small town and a paparazzi-free zone. I promise.”

“Okay,” He nodded, and then his eyes fell shut as you softly started stroking his hair. “So, what do they have at this Fall market thing?”

“I only quickly drove past it so I don’t really know,” You told him. “But, I did see a hot chocolate stand and we have to get that.” 

“Mm, that sounds good.”

“Oh, oh, oh, that reminds me, did you bring me chocolate from San Francisco?” You asked, smiling up at him. 

His eyes opened then and he smiled back at you. “Of course, it’s in my suitcase.”

“God, I love you,” You tilted your head upward to give his lips a quick peck. “We should probably take it out soon and put it in the fridge because of how hot it is.”

 “I’ll grab it after this,” Steve said and you nodded. 

You were the one to pull out of his arms and force you two to do what you were supposed to be doing in a shower, and five minutes later, you both were clean but neither of you made any move to turn off the water. Instead, Steve was turned away from you and you were softly running your finger across his back, doing a sort of connect the dots with the few freckles and moles that were littered across his skin. It would be pretty safe to say that you two were using the shower as a way to cool down from the heat that was taking over the entire house. And although you had proclaimed that this needed to be a quick shower, you didn’t mind wasting a few more minutes in it with Steve. 

“Hey,” He said softly and you hummed in response to let him know that you were listening. “I think that I’m gonna turn down the role for the movie that’s filming in Toronto in January.” 

You abruptly stopped tracing random patterns on his back. “What? Really?”

At first, he simply nodded in answer, and then you poked him a couple times so that he would turn and face you. 

“Yeah, I’m not really into the script or the role that much. And it also would overlap for two weeks with the next thing I’m gonna do in Europe. Those producers said that they can make this overlap work, but I don’t know, I just don’t really want to do the one in Toronto, anyway,” He told you, and then his hands settled on your bare waist. “Plus, if I don’t do it, then that means we’ll get three uninterrupted months together in LA instead of just having December.” 

You tried not to let yourself get too excited at the idea of things working out like that. Once the documentary finished, you wouldn’t have anything big planned until you worked as the Assistant Director on Jessie’s, your good friend’s, next film that was starting in three months. Your plan in the meantime was to go home to Los Angeles and just take a break until then; maybe help out on some local projects here and there because it was hard to completely push your mind away from working. Now knowing that Steve would also be home the entire time made the thought of actually taking a break sound nice.

You gave him a look in this moment, though, because it was impossible for you to not think logically about this too. “You’re not really doing this just for that last reason, right?”

If his answer was yes, you were ready to launch into an explanation about how he didn’t need to do that just so you two could spend more time together. Your schedules had already aligned perfectly and you two would get to spend the holidays together— and that felt lucky and great in itself— so he didn’t need to turn down roles he wanted just so you two could have more moments like this one. You’d been making it work these last six months and you knew that you’d continue to make this relationship work without either of you having to make any crazy sacrifices just yet. 

“No, I meant all of that other stuff,” Steve told you, wrapping his arms around you completely and pulling you closer. “Things were entirely different before you and before us. I used to like taking every role that I was offered because I wanted to stay busy and because I hated taking breaks between projects. But now I don’t wanna work all the time and take roles that aren’t that interesting just to stay busy. Especially not when not doing the movie or whatever else means I get to spend that time with you instead.”

It was honestly really endearing seeing how things were shifting for him because of you and your relationship; it was also a little scary. 

“And you’re completely sure about this?”

Steve didn’t hesitate to nod. “A thousand percent.”

You let yourself accept his words then, knowing that he was telling you the truth.

“Y’know, this means that we’ll finally get a chance to get sick of each other instead of constantly missing each other,” You said, playfully poking his side.

Steve laughed a little. “That’ll be a nice change.”

It was a possibility, but neither of you could actually see that happening, you couldn’t imagine growing sick of him. 

You had wanted to keep things fairly PG, but it was too hard not to kiss him in this moment; threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him close to you, chest to chest and hands grabbing at your hips. He guided you back to the wall of the shower and softly pressed you against the white tile. You could feel his half-hard cock twitch against where it was pressed to your lower stomach and you suddenly felt so close to telling him to fuck you against the wall. 

Before you could beg or even simply ask for that, Steve was pulling away from your mouth and pressing his forehead against yours with a soft breath. “Remember when this was supposed to be a quick shower?”

He was being the logical one in this moment and you were simultaneously happy and annoyed about it. 

You nodded. “Sadly yes.”

Steve moved away from you completely, finally turning off the water and pushing the curtain to the side to grab the towels that you two had hanging up. He wrapped one around your shoulders and then grabbed the other one for himself and wrapped it around his waist. 

You readjusted your towel and before he stepped out of the shower you grabbed his attention with a soft, “Hey.”

You held up your pinky and then continued. “I know you said that you didn’t even want to take this role anyway, but promise me that if there is something that you do really like and wanna do or even like a little or whatever, you won’t turn it down for me and because of us, okay?” 

You weren’t entirely sure why you felt the need to say that in this moment, to remind him that you two would always figure out how to make things work despite all of your guys’ work stuff, but it felt important to. 

He nodded as he lifted his hand and linked his pinky with yours. “I promise.”

“Remember, I take these very seriously, Steven,” You said, smiling up at him. 

“I know,” He said, a small smile on his face, and he was the one to kiss you that time around.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The hot chocolate was warm in your hands and it felt so nice that it made you not want to drink anymore of it yet; it was still a bit too hot anyway. 

You and Steve were settled on a random bench in the park where the market was happening. After an hour of walking around and buying a few things, you two were away from the busyness of the little shops and stands that took over the park and the hordes of people; it had ended up being more crowded than you had expected it to be.

You looked up at Steve and his beanie-covered head. “You do like the candle, right?”

“Yes, I do,” He answered. “It smells really nice. And you made a very compelling case about smelling it in my place when we’re together and doing fun holiday stuff in December so that really sold it for me.”

You could imagine that probably too easily, and that was exactly what you had told Steve. The cinnamon and vanilla scent perfectly defined Fall and Winter in your eyes and it was nice to think about the cozy smell taking over his apartment in LA as you two spent the holidays together for the first time; watching Christmas movies and baking cookies because why not? The thought of doing that, and especially doing it with Steve, warmed your heart. You hadn’t done anything like that in what felt like forever. Instead, you had always figured out a way to busy yourself with work during that time, knowing that you’d just feel lonely otherwise. Now things were very different.

“I can’t wait for that,” You told Steve softly.

He switched his hot chocolate to one hand so that he could wrap an arm around you. “Me too.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then your cold nose and then your lips. Before either of you could make the kiss deeper than the chaste peck that it was, your phone started ringing in the pocket of your coat. 

Reluctantly, you pulled back from Steve and fished your phone out of your pocket. When you saw Jackson’s contact name on your screen, you were quickly both annoyed and worried. He was the director of the documentary and technically your boss, but the entire small crew felt more like family at this point, so that made you feel more inclined to answer the call. 

You sighed, looking away from your phone still ringing, and up at Steve. “I told him that I wouldn’t be available this weekend and he said he’d only call if it was something really important so…”

“It’s okay. Take it,” Steve told you and you gave him a small smile before swiping to answer the call and standing up from the bench. 

For the next ten minutes, Steve watched you on the phone a few feet away, pacing back and forth as you talked because it was too hard for you to be still when you were on a call, especially an abrupt work one. He found you so goddamn adorable; the furrow of your eyebrows and how you’d chew on your lip or become fixated on something as you talked and listened. In this moment, it was the hot chocolate in your hand.  

He loved how serious you got about work, it reminded him of himself in a lot of ways, and he also loved that he got to see both sides of you. The side that happily became consumed by work, and the not-so-serious side where you and he would talk about anything and everything that didn’t involve work. He vividly remembered one night in his bed when you went on the longest tangent about early 2000s music. It was so random and a little weird, but it only made him fall deeper and harder for you. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked you once you were sitting back next to him on the bench and your phone was pocketed away in your jacket again. 

“Yeah, now it’s fine, thank god. Jackson was freaking out because one of the parents wanted to pull her kid out of the entire thing, which would fuck up pretty much everything we’ve been doing for the past few months because she’s one of the main kids that we’ve been following at this performing arts school. According to Jackson, I’m the best at talking to the parents so he put me on a call with the mom, and I managed to convince her to be back on board with everything— I reminded her about how much exposure the documentary is gonna give the school, and in turn her daughter, and she was really happy about that. Apparently, she was getting annoyed that the cameras haven’t been “following them enough” lately, which I think actually has been true, but it’s only because one of the other girls is having more interesting stuff happening right now or something. I don’t really know. But, I told her that that camera time doesn’t really matter because everyone’s gonna get the same amount of screen time in the final cut; which might actually be kind of a lie, I don’t know…” You trailed off with a sigh when you realized how long you’d been talking. “Sorry, now I’m just rambling about nonsense.”

Steve shook his head, smiling at you. “No, I think it’s cute when you ramble about work.”

You two were on the same page about that; there was something about hearing his work stories that had yet to get old to you too. Whether it be about random castmate drama or filming delays, or even stuff outside of filming— like interviews that actually ended up being fun, or ones that had one too many awkward questions— you loved hearing about it all, and Steve was a really great storyteller. 

“If I ever mention wanting to work on something that will involve kids and their parents again, please remind me of this annoying moment,” You said and Steve nodded amusingly at your request. “Oh, and I stress-drank my entire hot chocolate during that phone call, which sucks because I wanted to savor it.” 

“Let’s get you another one and then head back to our sauna for the rest of the night.” 

You laughed at his joke and then nodded. “Solid idea, Harrington.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It was barely nine o’clock when you and Steve fell asleep. You two had cooked a quick meal in the kitchen when you made it back from the park and then promptly ended up in bed, watching a movie with your laptop opened up next to you two because the living room couch wasn’t as comfortable as you thought it would be. 

You two were not even halfway through the movie— some random rom-com that was the first thing you saw when you went to Netflix— when you fell asleep. It was early, but it made sense; Steve had had a long flight from where he had just finished filming in San Francisco and you hadn’t been getting more than five hours of sleep lately because of work.

You honestly didn’t expect to wake up until late in the morning, after you successfully caught up on all the sleep you’d been missing lately with Steve right next to you; you’d come to have the best sleep ever when he was with you. So, when you randomly woke up in the middle of the night, it was because you didn’t feel him next to you. Despite how hot it was in the house, you remembered his arms had been wrapped around you when you fell asleep.

You sleepily opened your eyes and noticed Steve standing in front of his opened suitcase in the corner of the room with his phone pressed to his ear. He was shirtless and had one hand slipped in the pocket of the basketball shorts he was wearing. You were pretty much dressed the same, only in a tank top and a pair of small pajama shorts because it was pretty impossible to wear anything else in the warm house. 

“We’ll figure it out…” Steve said and then you heard him sigh. “She’s sleeping now, so I’ll tell her when she wakes up… Yeah, uh-huh, okay. Bye.”

The call ended and you saw him slip his phone into the pocket of his shorts and then he sighed again, it was a longer and more annoyed-sounding one that time. 

“Tell me what?” You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes and sat up in bed, the sheet covering your body slipped down as you moved, but you didn’t mind. 

Steve turned to you and gave you a smile that even in the darkness that took over the bedroom you could see didn’t reach his eyes. You turned on the small lamp that sat on the nightstand next to you to bring some light to the room. 

“Okay, don’t be mad…” He pulled out his phone again as he walked over to sit back next to you on the bed and then handed over his phone. 

The first thing you saw was the headline— Steve Harrington Spotted with Mystery Girl in New York. You scrolled down and there were a series of pictures of you and him at the park; laughing, smiling, smelling a candle at the candle stand, and your hot chocolates in hand moments after you’d gotten them. It felt weird seeing yourself like that; invasive. It was exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

The remaining bit of tiredness you felt was quickly wiped away and you shook your head. “Oh, oh, fuck, I’m an idiot.”

“That’s not true,” You heard Steve say as you still looked at his phone. 

“Yes, I definitely am. I should’ve known this would happen. Why did I think that just because this is a small town, you’d be able to be normal for a couple days?” Now that you were saying it out loud you knew just how stupid that assumption had been, and you were actually surprised that you hadn’t realized that sooner, or that Steve hadn’t called you out on it. “Was that Tom on the phone?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

“What did he say?”

“First, he was pissed that he had to find out this way; it was very ‘blindsiding,’ and as my publicist, he should’ve known this huge thing. But, he’s glad that it’s at least you because he likes you,” Steve said and you nodded along to his words. “Second, he wants to know what we want to do about it because there are a bunch of other articles coming out calling you my girlfriend and trying to figure out who you are, and also calling Tom and asking for comments and confirmations and all of that stuff.”

The wheels in your brain were already turning, trying to figure out what to do now that the initial shock had worn off. Your eyes were still solely focused on Steve’s phone because maybe the answer would hit you if you kept staring at the picture of him smiling at you as you took what had been the first sip of your hot chocolate. 

Steve kept going when you were quiet for too long. “Tom said that the pictures aren’t too ‘romantic-looking,’ so he can put denials out if we want.”

You still couldn’t figure out what to say. Your mind was moving a million miles a second but not one coherent thought or solution or anything was forming. 

Steve spoke again after a few moments. “I’m really sorry about all of this.” 

That made you finally look at him; he was leaning back against the headboard and pushing a hand through his hair. “What? Why are you sorry?”

“Because I know this is the opposite of what you wanted to happen.”

“Yeah, that’s true, but it’s not your fault,” You told him, placing his phone down on the bed and scooching closer to him. “At all.”

You didn’t want to get pulled into the spotlight, but it was pretty much inevitable, you were finally realizing now. Being with Steve meant that. There was really no way around it, and the more you thought about it, the more you realized that it was kind of surprising that this actually hadn’t happened sooner.

“Whatever you want to do about this, we can do it,” Steve told you, pulling you out of your thoughts with a reassuring hand squeeze. “I’m used to the bullshit pap stuff and articles talking about me, but you’re not, so we could deny this and forget it happened.”

Maybe he was right and you two could forget about it for now, but something like this was bound to happen again. Steve was only becoming a bigger actor— which made sense because he was insanely good, and you loved telling him that and watching him turn a little red and playfully roll his eyes at you whenever you did.

It meant that more eyes would be on him, so what were the options? Lie and hide your relationship forever? Never go out in public with him again? 

That sounded a thousand times worse than what this article and whatever the other ones were already saying about you and him. 

“I don’t think we should deny it,” You told Steve as you moved even closer to him and settled in his lap, knees on either side of him. “This was bound to happen sooner or later, right? So, maybe it’s okay that it happened now.” 

His warm hands found your hips immediately, slipping in the space where your tank top had ridden up and touching your bare skin. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” You nodded and a part of you wanted to simply leave it at that, but then you continued. “We could deny this and forget about it, but something like this is just gonna happen again.” A playful smile tugged at your lips. “Also, it would probably get really annoying keeping us a secret because I don’t know if you know this, but I love you and I’m planning to be with you for a really, really, really long time.” 

Steve matched your smile. “I do know that, but I also really love hearing it.” 

Your hands came up then, settling on his bare shoulders and then moving to the hair at the nape of his neck. You leaned in, brushing your nose against his and his head tilted upward, closing the final bit of distance between you two. 

The kiss was soft and teasing. Steve’s arms circled around you completely and he pulled you impossibly close to him. You let out a soft sound into his mouth at the feel of your chest brushing against his, the only thing that separated you two was the thin black fabric of your shirt.  

He thumbed at the strap of the tank top for a quick second before slipping it off your shoulder, mouth and tongue still solely focused on you as he did so. 

You finally found it in you to pull away after a moment and you met Steve’s eyes and the small pout quickly taking over his features. “Shouldn’t you be texting Tom?”

He shrugged as if that was the absolute last thing on his mind at this moment; you were pretty certain that you knew what the first thing was. “I’ll do it in the morning.”

You decided against questioning and teasing him further and instead whispered a soft, “Okay,” before leaning in to slot your lips against his once again. 

It didn’t matter that the text hadn’t been sent yet, and it also wouldn’t really matter if it wasn’t sent tomorrow or the day after that. Because it wouldn’t really change anything aside from the obvious; and you were making a mental note to make sure that all of your social media accounts were set to private before you started getting bombarded with the inevitable.

At the end of the day, Steve was yours and you were his, you both were so sure and certain of that fact, and that’s all that mattered right then. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know your thoughts<333

(there's a part of me that really really wants to write holiday stuff with these two and i'm gonna think about that for the rest of the night 🫶🏾)

[juletheghoul]

JULES! It's currently 12:30am and I can't stop thinking about your Marcus gladiator fic. I need to scream this at you.

Picture this:

They are back in Rome. They are in the baths, public or private. I personally picture public ignoring the fact he would definitely get his own bathing area being a successful General but I digress. Someone has had a bit too much wine and gets a little too handsy and rough with his girl. That pisses him off so now he has to take a statement right? You can't touch what's his!

So he calls her into the water with him and has her continue the bathing while sitting on his cock before just eventually destroying her. Bonus points if he makes stoic eye contact with the offending party that started it all.

I cannot get this idea out of my head and I just had to share this with you.

Take care~! ❤️

Nonny - you really came for my fucking throat with this one... 😍😍😍 like... I stared at this with my jaw on the floor - what a mind you have... okay lets get into it

smut under the cut - 18+ and don't read more if you aren't into exhibitionism (not beta'ed and barely proofread lmao)

Series masterlist

---

The campaign was finally over, for now.

He'd marched into the city with his legions behind him, and the streets of Rome roared to herald their victor, the famous, brutal, but efficient, General Marcus Acacius.

He waved, and made the appropriate salutes to the city, but he was sparing with his smiles, his eyes scanning even here in the safety of Rome's breast, for anything that might threaten his safety. You watched him from your place behind him, along with the other slaves that had followed him and his soldiers off to war, invisible in his shadow to anyone but him, and a few brazen few who had decided to test his boundaries. They had been forgotten however, the only thing that occupied your mind, was him.

His first stop had been his villa, to settle his household. It was all very cut and dry, his staff knew to keep his house in order in his absence and they did so, enough that he hadn't even spoken more than a few words while he made his way through. While he set about getting settled in, you did the same, moving silently through his halls towards your modest quarters. The road had been long, and you thought that you could probably get away with bathing, and taking a few moments to yourself, trusting that now he would be well attended to.

You barely got your bearings when he cleared his throat at your door.

"Apologies Dominus, did you want for something?"

"Gather your things, we go to the baths."

-

The baths, strictly speaking, were for everyone. There were certain ones however, like the one you were in now, that were privately owned. This one, was owned by a member of the Senate and friend to the Roman army, and as such, was populated by a few other soldiers, and their attendants.

Marcus spoke very little by nature, he was a man who kept his words as close as he did his coin. He said even less when confronted with raucous laughter, and men who couldn't seem to keep their dignity when taking a cup of wine.

His jaw clenched as you both settled into the warm waters of the baths and you set about washing the march and the war and the violence off of his skin, sitting behind him to rub the knots from his shoulders while ignoring the ever increasingly loud soldiers around you. One of them, was the same that had tested his patience in his tent, and by the way he kept eyeing Marcus in front of you, had forgotten the lesson.

"The oil, girl." He spoke low over his shoulder, and you belatedly realized you'd left the oil he liked with the robes when you'd undressed.

"Yes Dominus." WIth haste, and not an ounce of shame, you rose up out of the water and went to grab the vial, finding it quickly, but before you could make it back to him you were cut off.

"I can see why you like this one General, I can see why you're so greedy with her." The same soldier stands in your way, his hands grabbing at your waist. The wine in his cup spills onto your naked skin and for a moment you're afraid he'll paw at you further but within a moment he's as still as a statue. That's when you notice, the deathly hush that falls over the whole place.

You look up into the soldiers face and his eyes are as big as plates, a small dagger pressed to the apple of his throat, the point just deep enough to draw blood. You hadn't heard him come out of the water.

"This is the last warning I give you, the next time you put your hands on what's mine, you will die." His voice was a whisper, but it echoed through the room. "Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"Ye-yes, Yes General." all humor had gone from the man, and when Marcus had pulled away, all taste for wine had as well.

Wordlessly you followed Marcus back into the water, but instead of sitting in front of you, he pulled you to sit in his lap, keeping his eyes on the spurned soldier.

"I want you sitting like this." His hands settled on your hips and you felt the way he hardened beneath you, "Continue." He spoke low, but clear and kept his eyes focused, daring anyone to question him.

You did your best to focus on washing his hair, on rubbing the oil into the skin of his shoulders and his chest, but his hands wandered, grabbing at your ass and fitting his cock between the lips of your sex, drawing out your arousal and making your pulse quicken. His lips descended next, pressing softly to your shoulder while his eyes remained fixed. WIth a move, he slid his cock inside, pulling a moan from your lips, it only served to bolster him, making no move to conceal what he was doing and you knew it was part frustration from being at war, and driving home his point.

He said nothing, but he didn't need to.

People watched him take you there, in the water, and they said nothing. Any modesty you had, and shame had been worked out of you long ago and now, all you felt was pleasure. Both at him bouncing you on his cock, and at him having taught the soldier a lesson on your behalf. You ignored the part that sang the sweet song of ownership. You were his, and he relished the fact.

"Dominus-" You all but moaned into his ear, "May I have your gift?" You bounced on your own now, holding onto his neck, pressing yourself tightly to him.

"Yes Girl, it's yours, take it." He grit out the words, his eyes finally finding yours. You sped up, using your buoyancy to your advantage, clenching around him on the downstroke and when you felt his hands tighten around your hips you knew you had him.

"May I have your mouth, Dominus?" You watched his lips as you bounced, and he smiled a tiny smile before claiming your kiss with the same ardor that burned in your veins.

His tongue licked into your mouth and within a moment you felt the first spurt of him, deep inside where he liked it to be.

After a few minutes you made to move but his hands held you tightly. You took a look around, but unbeknownst to you, the baths had emptied and you were alone.

"I did not feel you flutter, and I am not yet clean."

---

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