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hyper-fixates · 2 months ago

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Time After Time

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 15.2k never let me near him again

Tags/warnings: age-gap due to logan’s mutation (reader’s age not specified), mutant!reader, unprotected sex, teasing, friends to lovers, explicit language, dry humping, storm cameos, fluff, domesticity, the claws come out when he’s close (👁️👁️), detailed descriptions & scenes of nightmares/trauma/PTSD/panic attacks, one (1) ass smack, alcohol consumption, vomiting, biting/marking, angst, soft!logan, creampie, groping/touching, use of “baby” once, aftercare, yearning (kindly let me know if anything was missed!).

Summary: 4 times you end up in Logan’s bed, and the 1 time he does something about it.

Notes: this falls somewhere in between “which could mean nothing” and “we can fix each other” 🫡 (written with a mix of X1 & X2 logan!)

Your heart, despite always being alive and beating, sometimes wakes up before you.

You can feel it before your eyes even have a chance to open. It jolts your sleep-ridden body and collapses your lungs without giving your brain a chance to fight against it. Muscles and limbs feel lifeless and detached from your body, shaking from the sleep that your heart knows wasn’t completely dreamless.

You kick the blankets off of yourself and sit up in a panic, trying to regain some control of your sudden erratic breaths while bringing a lethargic hand to your heaving chest in hopes to ground yourself. It never works.

Maybe your ribs are shrinking and squeezing your lungs, making you delirious from the lack of oxygen, but you know that’s not the case. Your heart feels like it’s being squeezed and broken into a million tiny pieces.

No part of your body feels real, yet you keep your hand on your chest as firmly as you can, trying to focus on controlling the pounding of your heart that’s working so hard with each beat that it hurts.

“Fuck. Fuck,” you choke out, feeling the tears finally breach and roll down your cheeks as your nervous system catches up to what’s happening.

Panic. It’s all panic.

You can’t do anything but sit there and let the tears hit the freshly-washed fitted sheet on your bed. So you let it happen. Nothing can stop it.

Trauma is such a fickle thing. One moment you’re fine, and then the next, your heart is screaming at you and forcing your body to process something at 4 a.m. on a random Friday when all you wanted was some goddamn sleep.

There is no choice. Your mind doesn’t give you one.

The tremors subside slowly after a few minutes, giving you the feeling back to your arms and legs, albeit minimal.

You slide to sit at the edge of your bed, resting an elbow on your thigh and setting your chin into your palm with a defeated, yet shaky, huff.

You look to your window and see that the sun hasn’t even started to rise yet. You’ll be up for the rest of the foreseeable morning, but there’s not much to do so early besides wander aimlessly and think…then think some more.

You’re confident the professor isn’t even awake at this hour, which says enough about your state. You would typically go visit Storm for some comfort, but she’s been gone fuck-knows-where with Hank and Scott until Sunday at the latest. Thanks, Charles.

A questionable, and probably manic, decision comes to mind. One that’s only two doors down, one over from Storm.

Your impulsive feet make up your mind for you. The cold hardwood floor shocking you further into consciousness as if your heart didn’t do a good enough job.

You tiptoe a couple steps down the hall, forcing yourself to turn and face the large wooden door when you reach it. You just stand there staring at it, unknocking, analyzing the wood grains, suddenly very interested in what type of wood it is and what stain was used to—

“Uh. Are you okay?”

You refocus your eyes onto the man now standing in front of you in the doorway, adorning a barely-zipped school hoodie and black sweats.

“Huh?” You blink a few times, disoriented.

Logan quirks a brow, looking you up and down cautiously. “Are you okay?” He asks again, offering a look of concern—or maybe confusion—that you haven’t seen often. A look that’s never needed to be directed towards you.

You come back to yourself. “But—I…didn’t knock,” you respond, looking equally as confused as him as you point to the door.

He leans against the edge of the door, face softening. “I could smell you before you passed Storm’s room,” he clarifies, a hint of reluctance in his tone. Oh.

You feel like a child who has just gained awareness, all too conscious of your situation.

“You’re…awake?” Is all you manage despite probably needing to say much more than that to explain just why exactly you’re standing outside Logan’s room at 4 a.m.

“So are you,” he counters with a curious look. “So let me ask again. Are you okay?” He locks his eyes on yours, probably in hopes to understand why the fuck you’re outside his room at 4 a.m.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” you say, and it’s the truth.

You should probably be embarrassed. You show up at Logan’s door unannounced, dressed in a flimsy shirt and matching sweats—thanks, Charles—that can’t fully hide the remaining quivers throughout your body.

Logan pulls his lips together at your admission. You can almost see the wheels turning in his head trying to figure you out.

“Can’t sleep?” He questions, but he knows he’s right.

“Yeah.” You don’t know why you’re making it Logan’s problem, though. Sure, he happens to be awake, but maybe this is all too personal to push on the guy who’s seemingly all pride and no solicitude most of the time.

It’s not that he’s not a good, nice guy, but you don’t know how you would define your relationship, or lack of.

You know each other well enough from existing in the same space over the past couple months, being part of the same “team”, but it’s nothing to call a close friendship like you and Storm. He’s a bit of a rare species in the mansion, not really lingering around.

He cocks his head in a half shrug, the soft points in his hair broken by sleep shake gently with the movement.

“I don’t think I can help you,” he says wearily. “I’m no better. Clearly.” He gestures between you, drawing attention to the fact that you’re both awake. The helpless cannot help the helpless.

“Oh—no, I’m not looking for help. I think I’m beyond that at this point,” you laugh but stop yourself short when Logan doesn’t follow. Tough crowd.

“I, uh, don’t actually know what I’m looking for,” you offer.

You knit your brows together in thought, still wondering why the fuck you’re here. Comfort? Entertainment? Some other unknown third thing?

“I’m not really used to Storm being gone for so long,” you admit. “I just feel…all over the place, I guess.”

Logan considers your vulnerability for a beat, eyes flicking to yours. “I can hear you sometimes,” he says, a knowing—almost sympathetic—look on his face. “We have the same problem.”

You go cold, any expression you had on your face sliding away. You wish the floor could swallow you right now. You know things have been getting worse recently, but you didn’t think anyone could hear that fact. Maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise from someone who could smell you from down the hallway.

He steps back, pulling his door open further. An invitation.

You don’t move right away. Could this be a false awakening? You’re not sure what you expected when you came to his door, but you also didn’t expect him to open it without you knocking, so you have to suspend disbelief for now. You figured he’d offer a few words of advice and dismiss you, or maybe even tell you to fuck off, but he opened his door wider for you. But you didn’t exactly think any of it through in the first place anyway.

You force your feet to carry you into Logan’s room. It’s not much different from yours; scarce belongings, minimal decor, a small work desk, brown curtains that are drawn back, and a bed.

“Were you, uh…sleeping before I came?” You sit on the unmade bed, nothing noticeably different from it compared to yours.

He shuts the door quietly, moving to the small desk across the room and filing some scattered papers together neatly.

“Trying to,” he says, keeping his gaze on the desk.

Fucking duh. “Sorry if I disturbed you,” you wince to yourself.

You see him briefly shake his head at your unnecessary apology. “I had to get up anyway.” His voice is still gravelly from sleep.

It feels like you’re invading his space. But he invited you in. How many others have had the opportunity to be in here? Probably too many. There’s nothing to make this special.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” you sigh, flopping back on his bed defeated. Simply overwhelmed with the uncontrollable repercussions of your mutation.

“Try to sleep. If you want,” he offers, moving to the edge of the bed. “It’s easier said than done, but I have to meet with Charles in an hour.” It’s gruff, but he’s sincere.

Maybe the professor is awake after all.

You roll your head to the side to look at him. Was he really offering for you to stay in his bed?

“Oh, wow…uh, sure.” It comes off as more of a question, but he quirks his brows in acknowledgment, turning back to the desk and collecting a handful of other miscellaneous papers.

“I have to head downstairs and take care of some things. Stay as long as you need,” he says, zipping his sweater the rest of the way up. Thank God in heaven.

A shy “thanks” is all you manage as you situate yourself on the bed.

Is this fucking weird? You could name a handful of others in the mansion right this second that would kill without hesitation to be where you are. They’d probably kill you specifically to get it. It’s not much of a secret that Logan is the subject of almost all students’ desires. He knows it, too.

“See you later,” he adds, his lips forming the slightest hint of a caring smile as he sees himself out. You throw one back before the door clicks shut.

Should you be offended that he didn’t stay? That he left so quickly? No, no, he can’t. He couldn’t. Charles is expecting him. The timing is just horrid. But now you’re just…alone…in Logan’s room, expected to sleep because of a random act of kindness in his heart.

Lying in his bed instead of yours is an odd sensation. The sheets and mattress are exactly the same, the pillows are just as fluffy, yet it feels unalike.

You flop your head on his pillow, tugging the blankets up to your chin. Your fingers graze something by your hip as you settle in, making you push the blanket back down. Leaning over, you see three puncture marks in the mattress, fraying the bedsheet material into feather-soft strands around the deep holes.

Your eyes widen, remembering his words before he invited you in: “We have the same problem.”

Part of your heart fractures for the second time today. Your eyes cross over to the other side of you, seeing a matching set of holes just below the pillow. It’s suddenly easy to understand why no one besides him has been seen coming and going from this room in a while. One day, things just seemed to change.

Maybe his act of kindness was an act of mercy. Trauma will always find you, and it will make sure you feel it until you either destroy it or it destroys you.

Even the Wolverine isn’t an exception.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

The gold liquid is gone from the glass as quickly as it was poured.

Your throat clenches and protests the swallow as you try to suppress the urge to gag. You gently set the shot glass back on the counter, watching Storm chase with a piece of lime that does nothing to help the puckered face she makes from the tequila.

“No more, no more. I can’t.” Your arms anchor you to the counter to stop yourself from swaying too much.

Storm nods, still fighting off the sourness with furrowed brows and a scrunched nose. You giggle at her when she quickly screws the cap back on the bottle, sliding it out of reach.

“You’re a bad influence,” she scolds as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“No—I’m under the influence,” you counter, a playful smile on your lips. “There’s a difference. You still have your own free will.”

Storm rolls her eyes so hard you only see the whites of them. “We have training tomorrow,” she slurs. “Charles will not be happy if we show up half-conscious.” She rounds the counter to you, grabbing your shoulders for stability, and you do the same.

“He’ll be lucky if we show up at all,” you mumble.

The dim kitchen lighting embraces the two of you, the rest of the mansion blanketed in darkness with everyone fast asleep—like you both should be.

You close your eyes with a roll of your neck, more giggles falling through your lips as you clumsily grab onto Storm and rock and sway together for a moment, the alcohol quickly catching up to your motor skills. It feels like you’re spinning through time and space, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel fucking euphoric. At this rate, neither of you will be able to make it back to your rooms.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You lose a bit of your balance as you try to find the resonant voice, eyes shooting open. Storm unintentionally startles and stumbles away from you, white hair also jumping from the excitement.

You grab onto the counter again, sucking in a deep breath. “Fuck, don’t do that,” you growl through your teeth, a hand on your chest as you try to calm yourself.

“Don’t do what? Come to the shared kitchen to grab a drink?” Logan huffs a laugh, an amused smile creeps to his lips as he takes in your drunk and shaken state from the entryway.

“Doesn’t anyone sleep in this place?” He mumbles to himself.

“And with that, I’m done for the night,” Storm chuckles, fixing her hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her eyes lock intensely on yours, index finger firmly poking the middle of your chest to make her point for you to show up to training very clear.

“See you, Logan,” she dismisses, stumbling as she passes him.

Logan shakes his head, still smiling. He steps to the fridge, opening the double doors and plucking a bottle of soda from the bottom shelf. No alcohol is readily available in the communal fridge because, after all, you’re all in a school full of kids, so Storm had to get creative; Scott will be missing a rather large bottle from the now not-so-secret stash in his room.

As the alcohol continues to settle in you, you feel more and more lightheaded as it brings you to a new level of euphoria again. You only know this because watching Logan pop the cap of his drink with mindless ease feels a little more exciting than it would be if you were sober. But you’re not sober, and that’s the problem.

“Not gonna follow Storm?” He asks, taking a generous sip from the bottle as he casually places his free hand on the counter to lean on across from you.

A tight smile forms, mostly to yourself. “I don’t think I can make it down the hall,” you laugh in embarrassment. Maybe that last shot was one too many, and it’s not even fully done working its magic yet.

Logan raises a brow. “Want some help?” There’s no judgement in his tone like you expect. Then again, you don’t know what the fuck to expect from him.

Your already half-closed eyes, blurry and unfocused, meet his hazel ones in interest. Another favour?

It’s been two weeks since he let you sleep off the nightmares in his bed. Two weeks since you learned he’s burdened with them, too. You traced the holes in the mattress over and over before you eventually fell asleep, wondering what—or who—could have hurt him so badly. He plays it off cool; you wouldn’t suspect anything from talking to him. The same could probably be said about you.

“I didn’t know wolverine’s were chivalrous,” you tease.

The yellow hue of the lights dance over the quaffed points in his hair, making them appear sharper than usual. You would never admit it, especially to him, but you adore them. They give him an absurd amount of character that you’d expect a guy like him to not care about.

You’re not exactly complaining about the fitting grey tank-top he has on either.

“Not overly,” he plays along, taking another mouthful of the fizzy drink. “I like to think I’m special,” he says quieter.

“Maybe you are,” you say as you try and straighten yourself to see if you can stand unassisted.

The world tilts as you stand to your full height, eyes rolling into your head from the wave of dizziness. “Wow, okay,” you say to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the spinning. How many shots did you have again?

A warm hand presses between your shoulders. “Woah, nice and easy. Nice and easy.” Logan appears by your side to steady you, other hand grabbing your elbow to pull you straight. You wobble in his grip, letting him guide your useless, alcohol-ridden body.

His hand on your back rubs a few small, comforting circles as you work to regain your bearings. He watches your expressions intently, looking for the right moment to get you moving back to your room safe and sound.

Your arm crosses over your body out of instinct to grab the hand he has on your elbow for extra support.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He seems to ask you that a lot.

You lean into him, your shoulder to his chest, and you can feel the blackout creeping up on you like humidity from a thunderstorm—it’s usually too late to do anything once you notice it.

“I drank a lot,” you laugh deeply, rolling your head onto his shoulder to look up at him.

He looks so much more delicate under the ambient lights—his usual defined features have shifted and melted him into someone that doesn’t look like they should be a feared animal out in the world.

Logan all but cradles you, that same look of concern crossing his features from the night you went to his door. The only difference is that you’ve had a generous amount of tequila—and are currently being kept alert by the hot touch of his hands. That’s new.

“Can you walk?” He holds your squinty eye contact, probably searching for any signs of a coherent thought behind the blissful expression on your face. “Or will I have to carry you?” He muses, a hint of a smile crosses his lips as his hand moves up to gently rub over your shoulders.

Drunk you likes the sound of anything relating to Logan keeping his hands on you right now. You wonder what sober you would think.

“I’m not gonna tell you no, but it feels like I’m floating in a bubble that won’t stop spinning,” you hum as you let the sensation consume your senses. “I might fly away.” You dip your head back off of his shoulder in amusement as you laugh again.

“Yeah, you’re fucked up,” he mumbles lovingly. Just like anyone else who’s concerned for your well-being would.

“Hey, kitty cat—I’m perfectly buzzed,” you emphasize the teasing nickname, narrowing your eyes at him sternly as you bring your gaze back to his in defence.

“‘Kitty cat’? Really?” He snorts. “I think you’re past your bedtime by three drinks,” he remarks back with equal levity.

“Then take me to bed if you’re so concerned,” you sigh dramatically, going limp in his arms to make your point.

Truthfully, you’re probably past your bedtime by five shots. But he doesn’t need to know that. You just know that you can’t control your limbs like you were able to ten minutes ago.

“Maybe I will.” You don’t see it, but he does his quick little eye roll that you’ve seen pointed towards Scott too many times.

He slides the hand on your elbow down to the backs of your knees, pulling you up off the floor and into his chest as you fall into the arm that was rubbing your back.

Oh, so it’s gonna be like that.

An excited—or maybe shocked—noise escapes your mouth as he adjusts you in his arms. You extend your right arm up and over his shoulder to hug his neck and keep yourself stable.

The trip to your room isn’t one that should take long, but each sway from Logan’s steps goes straight to your stomach in waves of queasiness. It feels like forever before you feel him bend awkwardly to turn your doorknob.

You’re fighting to keep yourself conscious the entire time, not wanting to regret missing the feeling of being in his arms.

The room is only lit by the silver moonlight creeping through the window. It’s hard to distinguish anything through your bleary eyes besides Logan’s look of determination to get you in your bed.

He leans down, shuffling you out of his arms and onto the mattress as swiftly as possible. The care of it all pokes at your heart.

He silently goes around each corner of the bed adjusting the blankets. It may be dark, but the moonlight highlights the peaks of his shoulders as he moves. Your eyes might be involuntarily half-shut, but that doesn’t stop you from staring.

You’re now probably no better than every other mutant in this school.

“Logan,” you start before you can fully process the foolish thing you’re about to say next.

He rounds the bed back to the side you’re huddled on, looking down on you. “Yeah?” The subtle jingle of his dog tag pierces the quiet that’s lingering in the room.

You part your lips to speak but the words die in your throat. They’re replaced by a flood of saliva that has you sitting up at a speed that shouldn’t be possible for someone as intoxicated as you. You cover your mouth with your hand, feeling your stomach churning and finally rejecting the tequila.

You suddenly feel very awake.

“Hey, hey.” Logan squats down in front of you with his already permanently-furrowed brows pinched closer together than you’ve ever seen before, a hand coming to your shoulder in concern. “What—”

“Bathroom,” you mumble through your palm, eyes rolling shut at the nausea.

He doesn’t say another word. He pulls you to your feet by your arms, walking behind you fiercely with his hands gripping your shoulders to guide you to the small bathroom across the room.

You push the door open, falling to your knees in the darkness over the toilet as the mistakes from the night expel themselves from your body through rounds of coughing and gagging. He lingers in the doorway, keeping an eye on you but still giving you privacy.

“Fuck,” you cough, resting your warm forehead on your hand as you slump against the toilet. That definitely sobered you up fast.

Exhaustion hits you like a truck. “Logan…” you croak from your crumpled position on the tile floor.

He steps in, bending down again to reach your height. You can barely make out the shadow of him in the fading moonlight.

“Just…help me back to bed,” you groan, reaching for his arm as you use the toilet seat to push yourself the rest of the way up. You stumble against him as you try to make it back through the doorway.

He guides you to the bed the same way he did to the bathroom—steering you from behind.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” he says as you settle back into bed, head hitting the pillow with a quiet thud. “Even though you did this to yourself.”

“Fuck off,” you groan.

You close your eyes, hearing his footsteps fade back toward the bathroom. You hear the tap run for a couple seconds before he’s next to you again, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Drink. All of it,” he says firmly, holding the cup out to you.

You sit back up slowly, no doubt lethargic, an unimpressed look on your face that earns you a raised brow that tells you there’s no room to object.

You finish the cup in four mouthfuls, handing it back to him. “Thanks.”

You fall back onto the pillow, no longer feeling like you’re travelling through space and time.

The clothes you’re in are close enough to pyjamas. There’s no sense in undressing in front of Logan, especially with what you were about to say to him before you were rudely interrupted by the consequences of your own actions.

He returns the cup to the bathroom and you pull the blanket over your waist as you hopefully settle in for the rest of the night. You owe him big time for this. The thought of just how exactly you’ll manage that fills you with anxiety.

You turn on your side, fingers sliding over the mattress with the movement. They graze familiar strands of feather-soft fabric by the pillow.

This is Logan’s room. Are you just that drunk that you couldn’t tell the difference when he brought you in? Or are your rooms just that similar to each other?

You dip a finger in one of the three holes, hearing the bathroom door click shut as Logan makes his way back.

“Why am I in your bed?” You see him rustling through some drawers of clothing by the small desk, but he stops when you finish your question.

“You can’t take care of yourself tonight,” he says. “You’re too drunk.” He pulls the grey tank-top off, stuffing it in one of the drawers and shutting it.

You sit up at that, head still foggy and tipsy, watching him move to the foot of the bed across from you. You try to focus your eyes on anything but his bare chest and the dark hair that adorns it and trails down past the waistband of his sweats. His hair is somehow even more wild from mindlessly pulling the tank-top over his head.

“Ah. I was gonna ask you to stay anyway,” you reveal, almost whispering the bold confession.

You were planning to ask before the tequila decided to make another appearance, but maybe doing it this way isn’t so bad either. He did all the heavy-lifting.

A modest, tight-lipped smile graces his lips. “I think you still have some tequila to sleep off.”

Whether or not you still have some shots in your system, what you feel and want right now is real. It’s not influenced by anything besides some mild andronitis created by the fact that you share a common struggle.

“Is it…safe? To share a bed?” The most coherent thought you’ve had all night makes him stiffen from your sudden nervous tone. Your body could easily replace the mattress and become a new home for the deep punctures.

Your eyelids have been fighting against being pulled shut by alcohol-induced drowsiness, yet your eyes are wider than they’ve been all night in this moment.

You’re sat right in the middle of the bed and Logan comes around to the right, sitting on the edge of the mattress to come down to your level.

“You’re just gonna have to trust me.” His eyes are imploring and apologetic all at once. He understands the prospect of even having you here in the first place.

You nod, sliding over to the left to give him more room.

Logan wouldn’t put you in harms way, you reason with yourself. He wouldn’t risk potentially killing someone, especially a fellow mutant, if he wasn’t absolutely sure of his mental state. But you also don’t really know his demons.

You roll onto your right side, tugging the blanket up to your chin in comfort. “Why haven’t you been given a new mattress?” You ask as he turns to face you in the same position, his half of the blanket resting at his hip.

The bed dips significantly on his side, almost encouraging you to roll over against him.

“Forgot to ask,” he says quietly, running his right hand through his hair to push the shorter strands off his forehead.

From his tone you can decipher that he actually means “can’t be bothered.” It’s a devastating thing to imagine just how many he goes through, anyway. He probably doesn’t see the point in replacing something that will inevitably have the same fate as the others.

There has to be less than an arms length between you two. It’s a surreal situation to be in considering what you thought you knew about him. A recluse. Standoffish. Maybe it’s all a fluke and the alcohol is severely fucking with your perception of what’s actually happening.

“Thanks for everything,” you whisper as if someone else will overhear.

“Get some sleep,” he insists, rolling onto his back. You do the same.

You stare at the blank ceiling for a while, noticing the exact moment Logan falls asleep; his breathing grows slow and his body runs even hotter than before.

You think about how he could wake at any moment, claws accidentally sliding right through your stomach from a nightmare or two. You imagine all the others that have been in your position—if they felt scared, if they even knew.

He asked you to trust him, and that should be enough.

There is a body full of secrets and hurt sleeping undisturbed next to you with the ability to withstand and regenerate from any physical injury, yet there’s something that hasn’t allowed the same to be done for his mind.

━━━━

The bright amber sun hits your closed eyes through the window, making you roll your head away onto the other side of the cool pillow.

You want more sleep. Your head feels like a bag of bricks and your body feels like it got beat with them.

You stretch a leg out, gently grazing something solid with your foot. Your eyes shoot open, the night coming back to you as you drift into consciousness. Logan.

You shoot up, bouncing a little from the momentum.

Logan startles next to you, clearly interrupted from a deep sleep. “What the fuck…” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face, not seeming interested in making a move to sit up with you.

“What time is it?” Your eyes bounce around the room looking for a clock.

He grunts, reaching for a watch on the nightstand. “Seven-forty.”

You needed to be in the Danger Room for 7 o’clock.

“Fuck!” You rip the blanket off, almost tripping as you run to the bathroom.

Logan also wants to roll back over and go back to sleep, but he knows he won’t be able to. He doesn’t work like that. So he just lays there, listening to you swear and make a mess of his bathroom as the clattering of fuck-knows-what fills the room.

The surprise of how well he slept makes him feel uneasy. Although it definitely wasn’t eight hours, it was uninterrupted. He doesn’t want to credit that to you, though. He wants to believe that he’s getting better overall, and maybe he is, so he can’t offer you any flattery in his mind.

Another distant “fuck” escapes the bathroom, pulling him out of his thoughts. You exit a few minutes later, as refreshed and presentable as you could get yourself, and the sight of Logan still in bed makes something in you ache for another moment of feeling him care and tend to you. Maybe that’s your hangover talking.

“Thanks again. I’ll see you around,” you say hurriedly, offering an apologetic smile as you turn the doorknob to leave.

“Good luck with Charles.” It’s a genuine advisory. Fuck. You’ll be so incredibly lucky if he doesn’t give you more than a stern lecture in front of everyone.

You take a deep breath in and slip out of Logan’s room. There’s not a single cut, mark, or scratch on you, just like he promised.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“I was told it’ll take a day to fix,” Storm explains with a shrug. “You’ll have to find somewhere or someone to room with until tomorrow. Jean already offered to have me stay with her.” A contrite look passes over her face.

You stand outside your rooms, staring in at the remnants of the mess caused by two terrakinetic kids fucking around in the courtyard when they weren’t supposed to be. They somehow managed to throw, or launch, sizeable tree branches right through each of your windows. Of course it wasn’t on purpose, but the Danger Room exists for a reason—to avoid mishaps like this.

Shards of glass and fragments of wood splatter your floors. The branches are hanging half-way out both of your windows, caught on the window sills and bobbing in the evening summer wind. The kids are extremely fortunate that neither of you were in your rooms when it happened.

“It’s fine. It’s just one night,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes in frustration. You don’t love how quickly your mind picks out who to go to. It’s already nearing 11 p.m., so you have to work fast.

Storm squeezes your shoulder in comfort. “The living room is always free,” she suggests with a remorseful smile.

But you don’t want the living room. Stiff couches mixed with students clamouring and passing by at the crack of dawn isn’t exactly a recipe for a good nights rest. As if you usually get one, anyway.

“Not a fucking chance,” you laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you say again, dismissing her worries. You wish her goodnight when she steps by you to head towards Jean’s room at the very end of the hall.

You glare at the mess in your room, not daring to step in. The amount of shattered glass everywhere makes the floor look like a body of water from the reflections of the pale moonlight bouncing and refracting off of the jagged shards.

“Fuck,” you spit through your teeth, solely to yourself.

Not even a full week after Logan saw you at your worst, you’re going to go back and ask for the left side of his bed. Shameless.

You don’t have much of a choice; you’re not comfortable having it be anyone else. It’s only because Logan saw you at your worst that you feel he’s the most logical choice. Already having shared a bed with him this week may also have some weight in your decision.

You take the few self-assured steps to his room, once again standing in front of his door. This time you feel more confident in approaching the Wolverine in his den.

You knock three times, the piercing sound echoing through the hall.

“You start to miss me or what?” A bare chest enters your view. You note the dog tag hanging from his neck again before you find his unyielding gaze full of ambiguity, wondering why you’re here. Again.

You blink at him slowly in hilarity. “Ha, funny. Can I stay with you tonight?” You ask flatly, not thrilled with the situation, but not completely displeased with being here now. “My window—”

“I know what happened,” he interrupts. “Figured you’d go for the couch in the living room.” He looks at you more pointedly with teasing suspicion.

“I think you know no one would ever willingly choose to sleep out there,” you reason, running a hand over your face in both shame and defeat.

He makes a face that tells you “touché” and you smirk in satisfaction. “If you don’t mind giving up half of your bed again, I would really appreciate it. I promise I’m not trying to make this a habit,” you sigh. Spending the night in Logan’s bed three times in the past month has to be a record for anyone recently.

“I don’t think it would be a bad habit,” he argues. Oh. “C’mon.” He gives a jerk of his head to allow you in, his tufts of his hair bristling with the quick movement.

“Thanks,” you squeak. He wants you here?

He shuts the door behind you, following you to the bed that’s clearly already had him in it. The blanket rests in waves on the mattress that remind you of just how human Logan is despite his reputation and image.

“Do you have an early morning?” You ask, slipping under the blanket.

“No. Charles was feeling nice for once,” he raises his tone sarcastically to rag on Charles’ judgement, which has clearly been a much needed one before now.

“Not an early bird?” You roll onto your right side like last time, facing him as he settles on his back with a deep breath. The bed sinks in again where he lays, your body wanting to give in to the laws of gravity and fall into him.

“Fuck no,” he laughs lightly, eyes crinkling around the corners. It’s self-deprecating, but it’s still a genuine laugh. The condescension from it lingers in the air, all directed at himself in a way that tells you he’s thinking about how inconceivably fucked up he is.

The last time he had a decent sleep was when you were drunk in his bed a few days ago.

“People like us don’t usually get the pleasure of a full eight hours,” he notes, sliding his gaze to yours for a fraction of a second.

He props an arm behind his head, the other resting on his chest and idly twisting the dog tag between his fingers. You watch the thin piece of steel slide and flip easily, the chain tinkling with every movement.

People like us.

“You mean mutants,” you state. You see his jaw tense in what little light there is from the half-moon tonight.

You see his brows pull together. “Yeah.” He has a point.

You think about the mutants you know, how they all have some horrific story about their gifts or family, or both. How they either were shamed by society or experimented on like rats.

The scenarios are endless. If you can think of it, some mutant has probably lived it.

Your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach. You and Logan are not isolated or special cases, but you’ve already shared a moment of vulnerability with him when you came to his door all those weeks ago seeking solace for the same thing he fights with: the inescapable ability of remembering.

You pull the blanket tighter against you. “I don’t think you’ll hurt me.”

He turns his head to you, confusion written on his face. “What?” He stops toying with the dog tag.

“Your claws. I trust you.” You didn’t feel like you were in immediate danger that first night, but you want to reassure him anyway. Or maybe you’re reassuring yourself.

He hasn’t had to say a single word for you to know his nightmares trigger something instinctive and combative that’s been hardwired into his DNA. In this case, it’s his claws needing to find a home in his mattresses, where another body could potentially lay one night. Like yours is right now.

You noticed the lack of holes in this mattress when you first got to the bed. Maybe you mentioning them last time was enough for him to finally request a new one.

Logan knows he shouldn’t make promises he doesn’t know he’ll be able to keep, but he wants to keep you here tonight, so he improvises. He abandons the dog tag between his fingers completely, turning onto his side and reaching to find your hand under the blanket. You meet him halfway, sliding your fingers between his as your palms lay flat on the bed.

A smile tugs at your lips for a moment. He watches your interlinked fingers, observing the size difference, wondering if he really just did that—and why.

You assume it’s his way of saying “thank you” for your trust when you probably shouldn’t be putting that much into him.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, pulling your fingers out from his just enough to caress the divets between his knuckles that conceal the claws.

He knows what you’re asking. “Every time.” He softly pushes his fingers back into yours, squeezing a little.

There’s a deadly stillness in the room despite his window being cracked. You both know you’re one in the same in a way, and that’s a connection that Logan hasn’t let himself experience. Not everyone likes looking in a mirror.

To be truly seen by someone, wholly, without judgement or fear, is what he deserves.

“What are you?” He asks, rubbing his index finger back and forth along the top of your hand. “Telekinetic? Psychic?” His curious voice grows quiet, hazel eyes fascinated with you and your lack of a physical mutation, at least nothing that he can see.

It never occurred to you that he didn’t know your mutation, or that you’ve never told him. It was never needed, but it seems unfair that you know about his when he wasn’t the one who told you.

“Ha, close.” Your eyes twinkle as you notice how intently he’s listening. “Psychometric,” you correct, watching his forehead crease.

“Sounds like math,” he quips, readjusting his head on the pillow. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat he’s putting off.

You laugh quietly. “No, it’s extrasensory perception. It lets me see the history of any object or person I touch, but only if I accept the energy,” you explain.

You watch his eyes narrow and you know what he’s thinking, so you quickly interject as he begins to pull his hand out from yours. “I need to touch a pulse point to be able to see anything,” you reassure, feeling his fingers slide back against yours. “The heart remembers everything,” you clarify.

The catch? The person’s memories and past stay with you after you see them. It’s become hard to distinguish what memories are yours or someone else’s. They all become intertwined. Good or bad, violent or gentle. You see it all, and then it’s part of you. Forever.

“I haven’t looked. I promise.”

“Good. You don’t need to see that shit,” he huffs, eyes wandering over your face. He isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but he’s a little startled for the first time in a while.

“I’m sure I’ve seen it all,” you state. It’s probably not far off from the truth. Your gift came when you were all too young, and plenty of time has passed since then for you to rack up this amount of damage from near-strangers and their lives.

“No, you haven’t.” A sure expression passes over him, shaking his head as best as he can against the pillow.

“Then I’ll count myself lucky,” you say softly. You have no idea what Logan has experienced, but his demeanor makes you want to stay curious. Not everything needs to be known, and you’re definitely not entitled to it.

A faint smile appears on his lips, then it’s gone just as quick. “Get some sleep,” he rasps. He turns onto his back and his hand abandons yours.

It’s a complete repeat of last time.

Something twinges in your heart, and you don’t like it. What exactly had you expected from Logan? He’s just doing you a courtesy by letting you stay here for the night. Nothing more. And that’s what you should expect: nothing.

The hum of crickets outside eventually lulls you into a dead sleep. It’s heavy and deep, not a single muscle twitching in your body. Logan breathes steadily next to you, a hand on his chest as the occasional snore fills the air.

From above you two might look like you’re transient, only here in this moment for a short time. And, realistically, you are.

━━━━

Logan was no where to be seen by the time you woke up, and you made quick work to get out of his room. It always feel wrong to be in someone’s space when they aren’t there.

Just like Storm said, the windows in your rooms were fixed the next day. It looks as though nothing even happened.

“Thank fuck,” you mumble to yourself as you step back into your room.

If you ever have to spend another night in Logan’s bed, you might as well wear a shirt that says “yes, we’re fucking!”, even if it isn’t true. You could deny it all you want, but it won’t stop what students would say. Nothing gets past them, even if it’s behind a closed door.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“Are you fucking Logan?”

You almost swallow your tongue. “Sorry?” Your brows shoot up in surprise, eyes round in disbelief.

“Are you guys sleeping together?” Storm casually asks as she flicks through the T.V. channels, glancing over to you from her spot on the couch.

You’re sat comfortably in an arm chair, suddenly no longer caring what channel she decides on. “Why would you think that?” Technically you were sleeping together, but not like that. It may never happen again, no matter how badly you want it to.

“Things travel fast around here,” she deflects with a cheeky smile. “And, you know, Logan is…Logan.” She shrugs.

You don’t even know what to say to that. Is there a right or wrong answer?

“It wasn’t like that,” you grumble. “He was doing me a favour. As a friend.” It hasn’t even been a full day since he let you stay with him while pieces of your window laid on your floor, and people are already convinced you’re fucking.

You haven’t even managed a chaste kiss, despite how much as you want to, never mind his dick being balls deep in you.

“Right.” She emphasizes the word, not convinced. Or just pushing your buttons because she can.

You roll your eyes. “If anything was happening, you’d be the first to know,” you point out.

She looks back over to you. “I know,” she says with another, more sincere, smile. “You two would be cute, though.”

You give her some side-eye, not quite sure if you disagree entirely with that statement. Whatever happens, happens. Logan is not something you can control or influence. He does what—and who—he wants, when he wants.

━━━━

A bolt of lightening strikes you. You gasp, then release a choked cry, eyes flying open as you claw at your chest in terror.

Your throat tightens and you break out in a cold sweat as you sit up. The soft blanket around you feels constricting. Sporadic and short breaths make you heave as your body registers the horrors in your subconscious.

There was never any lighting. That’s just what the pain feels like.

The muscles in your shoulders and neck tense from your panicked state as your heart struggles to keep a normal rhythm. You yank the blanket off, feeling weak from fear and the onset of tremors. Your whole body gives up on itself as you sob through broken exhales. Your legs have gone cold, lungs shrinking inch by inch with every passing minute.

You crawl to the edge of your bed, wanting to just get out and leave—the blanket. The bed. The room. Most of all, you want to escape your own mind.

You sink onto the floor when a foot touches the ground, and you realize walking isn’t in the cards right now. You’re shaking too badly to be able to physically move. All your strength is gone, robbed by your memories.

Balmy tears paint your face in determination, making sure no part of you is left untouched by this spell.

You screw your eyes shut, tears still slipping out with ease anyway. Leaning your back against the bed-frame, you curl into yourself and wrap your arms around your knees on the chilled hardwood.

You try to focus on your breathing to at least slow your heart down to a pace that doesn’t hurt.

Wounded cries rip their way out of you, interrupting the breaths you try to steady. A hand touches your arm and you yelp like an injured dog, flailing at the contact as your arms swing out from around your knees in shock.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s me.” Strong hands quickly wrap around each of your wrists to stop your arms from thrashing.

You try to focus your eyes, blurred and stinging from tears, on the person kneeling closely in front of you.

“L-Logan…” you whisper, balling your fists to try and expel the shakes.

He looks like someone who shouldn’t be able to be concerned about another person, yet the look on his face scares you. Brows pinched together in worry, eyes frantic, lips parted from heavy breaths. All because of you.

“It’s just me,” he hushes your cries. His thumbs stroke the undersides of your wrists tenderly, no doubt feeling your racing pulse.

You feel disoriented. “Wh…how…”

“I heard you,” he explains, watching you process everything. He drops your wrists when some recognition passes over your face.

“What do you need?” He follows your gaze as it wanders around the room, trying to keep you from spiralling further.

You look at him for a moment. He’s got his white tank-top on, the black sweats, and an intense need to help you written all over him. Fresh tears burn your cheeks as you come back into reality.

“I want it to fucking stop,” you weep, head falling into your hands in shame.

You don’t want him to see you like this, even though it’s a commonality between you two. It’s too intimate. You’d take him seeing you blackout drunk everyday of the year over this.

Then you do remember that it has stopped. Each time in Logan’s bed. There was silence. Peace. For the whole night. For both of you.

“Tell me what you need,” he says firmly, angling his head down to keep your eyes on him, desperately wanting an answer.

“You.” You suck in an agonizing breath to try and collect yourself.

He doesn’t flinch like you expect him to. If anything, his eyes become more pensive, clearly considering something. Then he shakes his head in wariness.

“C’mon. Let’s get you out of here,” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper. The only sound echoing in the room is your wobbly breathes, your body jerking with each one as you enter the aftermath and begin to go slack.

An arm slides behind your back, his hand grabbing ahold of your side while he pulls your legs over his other arm, picking you up off the floor.

He cradles you against him just like he did when you were drunk, carrying you out of your room.

He left your door open when he came in, and you hope no students heard or saw anything. He tilts to grab the doorknob, shutting it without a sound.

You wipe and rub at your eyes as Logan takes a few steps down the hall, quickly getting to where he needs to go when you feel him lean for his doorknob.

You’re sure a few rogue, leftover tears fall onto his shirt before he manages to sit on his bed lightly, you still curled tightly in his arms.

His hand pushes on your back for you to sit upright on his lap. “Face me,” he encourages, holding onto your sides as you twist around, bending your legs to slide over his thighs and straddle him loosely.

You look down at him, he looks up at you, feeling the quivers in your body dissipate as you melt further into his lap. A fondness crosses over both of your tired faces. He rests his arms over your thighs, warm hands linking behind your back as you do the same around his neck.

It’s nothing provocative or seductive. All you can feel is the care and concern rolling off of him in suffocating waves. He wants you to feel safe, and if that means overrunning your senses with his presence, then that’s what he’ll do.

“Got anything to say?” He murmurs, the fallen strands of hair around the edges of his forehead bristle with each move of his head. The rest of his hair fails to fully resemble the cat-like ears he had earlier in the day.

What does he want to hear?

You let your head hang a little, your nose almost brushing his. “I have nothing to say,” you assert, fidgeting with the chain of his dog tag at the nape of his neck.

You don’t necessarily feel embarrassed about him seeing you in such a helpless state, but you don’t want to simply unload your shit on him. So, in turn, you have nothing to say.

“Bullshit.” He almost rolls his eyes. There’s no real threat of him forcing you to say anything behind it. He won’t pry, but he doesn’t believe you.

An offended look overcomes your face, and you almost pull away. You don’t want to feel the humiliation of elaborating on just why exactly you said you needed him in this moment out of everything else.

“I just…” You roll your lips together in thought, measuring the words you could say but won’t. “Want to sleep. Here,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna go back.” You deflate in his arms, voice wobbly.

It’s already who-knows what time, and you need to pacify your wired nervous system; Logan simply holding you has already helped with that more than you want to admit.

His mouth quirks up briefly at that. “What happened to not wanting to make that a habit?” His eyes soften as his arms retract from around your sides, letting you slip easily onto his bed from his lap in a moment of calm, or relief.

Habit, if not resisted, soon becomes necessity.

“Special circumstances,” you reason, already pulling the blanket over you while he keeps his place at the edge of the bed, observing you with amusement.

“Seems like you get into those a lot,” he notes, pushing himself off the mattress.

He steps around to the other side—his designated spot—and slips the tank-top off, letting it drop to the floor. You’re not trying to be a freak, but you watch the whole thing.

The flex of his arms and shoulders are out of your mind as fast as they entered as you watch him hook his thumbs in the waistband of his sweats and pull them downright in front of you, not even turning around or to the side to try and conceal himself.

Your eyes widen, then you reel in your thoughts before they get lost at sea. No one who is sane fucking sleeps in sweatpants. Duh.

But didn’t he the last two times? It’s hard for you to remember, but you’d certainly recall if you were face-to-face with the outline of his di—

“It’s rude to stare, y’know.” Logan pulls his lips together, interrupting your thoughts. You try to not eyeball the bulge too hard, but it basically looked at you first.

The snug briefs do little to hide anything. They hide nothing, actually.

You almost scoff, but the playfulness in his tone tells you he couldn’t give a shit. He probably likes it anyway. From what you know, he definitely does.

“Oh, yeah, like you’ve ever cared about modesty,” you throw back, averting your gaze to the ceiling anyway.

It’s not that he runs around the mansion naked, but he definitely isn’t shy about what he looks like or against showing some skin. You’ve seen and heard enough over the past few months.

You hear a stifled chuckle as he joins you under the blanket without a retort. He knows you’re right. He’s just glad you’re a little lively and alert.

“Will you be okay for the rest of the night?” He brings both hands behind his head on the pillow, propping himself up a little.

“I should be fine,” you say confidently. “The challenge will be getting back to sleep.” You laugh in exasperation.

It’s always hard to calm down and get back to a place of tranquility after everything has settled with your mind. You’re pumped full of adrenaline and there’s not much that can curb something that persistent flowing through your body.

You haven’t found anything to help with it. Yet.

“There’s not many people that’ll understand what you go through,” he starts, voice rough with fatigue. “But I do.”

You look to him, sliding an arm under your pillow as you turn on your side. “How do you…help it.” You’re not sure if you phrased that right. It feels crude to reduce something so complex to the likes of a common cold that has an array of over-the-counter solutions.

“You don’t. It just has to run its course.” He looks to you, wanting to see your reaction.

It wasn’t meant to be hurtful or insensitive, but he’s not going to lie to you and say that things can only get better and that the worst is over. Especially for mutants, that’s not always true.

Although you don’t know what Logan lives with every day and sleeps with every night, you do know that his capacity for empathy is still intact. Here you are in his bed after all, seeing and indulging in a side of him that many never will.

You sigh lightly. “We’re quite the pair.”

A comfortable half-smirk slips over his lips. “I think we’re just fucked up insomniacs,” he suggests with a breathy exhale that’s close enough to a laugh.

You wish you could slide a thumb over the pulse in his wrist and see what’s haunting him, just to understand what happened to the Wolverine, but you’ve learned that doing so usually isn’t worth the price you’ll pay after. If what’s in his head is horrific enough to cause him to go through a couple mattresses a month, then it won’t do you any good either.

“I sleep pretty good with you,” you offer, seeing how he raises a brow in doubt almost instantly.

He sleeps well with you, too. It kind of rattled him when he noticed a pattern of uninterrupted nights and you being by his side. Not a single mattress ruined on those nights.

“Try not to knee me in the stomach tonight,” he deflects with ease. He takes his hands out from behind his head, sliding his left arm under the pillow as he turns over onto his side and closes his eyes. Facing you.

You mentally smack yourself. Multiple times. You didn’t think you drifted that much when you slept.

“No promises,” you mutter. You catch a small shake of his head before you let yourself join him in unconsciousness as you mirror each others lonely bodies.

━━━━

Your eyes ache—to open, to move, to touch. Enough crying will do that to you.Your eyelids are heavy, but there’s something else weighing down on you.

A tired groan crawls from your throat as you try to place yourself for a moment. The morning sun is just beginning to shine too brightly for your liking, and you squish your face deeper into the pillow.

You’re still tipsy with sleep, lying flat on your stomach, but there’s something dense and hot resting over your back.

You prop yourself up on your forearms, giving yourself a minute to wake up. You twist your hips around to sit yourself up, feeling the thing on your back slide down to your waist.

The blanket pools around your hips, and you feel a hand reflexively squeeze over the meat of your hip in disapproval of your moving. Something in you clenches at the sensation of something invading the area with ease. A spot reserved for intimacy.

Your head quirks to your right, seeing Logan on his stomach with his right arm thrown over your midsection.

You blink in surprise, staring at his sleeping body. His hair is sticking up every which way, his head half-off the pillow, his side of the blanket not even covering the curve of his ass anymore. It’s endearing to see the Wolverine in such a normal, human state.

But if someone were to walk in, it would look like you two spent the whole night fucking. A lot. That wakes you up a little more.

You peek over at the nightstand behind him and see the time blinking on his watch. It’s already 8 a.m.

You rest a hand over his shoulder to gently guide his arm off of you, but you stop yourself. Instead, you lightly trace your fingers down his shoulders and upper back a couple times, occasionally scratching softly over the ridges of muscle.

A shiver quickly rolls through his upper body, but your touch doesn’t fully wake him. He knows it’s just you.

It’s the least you can do for him as a thanks for recovering your broken body from the floor of your room and bringing you here when he didn’t necessarily have to.

It almost feels like instinct to offer comforting gestures to him. There’s something inside you that just pulls to him. You want to be the one that can give him comfort and help him put himself back together.

You want to be the only one.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

There’s a shadow that’s been following you around the mansion.

As soon as you stepped out of Logan’s room that morning a few days ago, it started.

This shadow likes to be nosy about what you’re doing. This shadow likes to be in your space. This shadow wants to be in your space. And he is.

No one has seen Logan out around the mansion this much, including you, and that’s how you noticed he’s basically been attached to your hip ever since he decided your back was a comfortable armrest.

He’s always just there, like a stray cat begging for food or affection. There to entertain you, banter with you, indulge you, in any way he can, including now as you trail back inside the mansion well behind Storm from an evening walkabout in the garden.

“No smoking in the courtyard,” you sing as you pass him carelessly, not even offering a glance to him in interest.

You like playing this game. Whatever it is. Constantly poking and prodding at each other to see what you can do to get the other to break in some way, no matter how slight.

Your heart flutters and flips every time; maybe from the thrill of it all, maybe from the arousal you get from the tension. You hope he feels everything, too.

He turns his head to watch you cross into the entryway. “Blow me,” he throws back playfully through a thick puff of smoke, leaning against the brick wall with a cigar pinched between two fingers.

You suppress a chuckle, keeping your unwavering pace. “Yeah, you wish!” You yell over your shoulder. You know he hears you. He wouldn’t let himself miss it.

Logan smirks and shakes his head in amusement, always impressed with your quick rebuttals that occasionally tent his jeans. He takes one last drag out of spite before following your footsteps inside.

You have become, by definition, friends…in a way. Even if you sorely cross the line into other territory more often than not. Sexual innuendos and friendly flirting can only go on for so long before the underlying intentions and meaning reflects real desires.

It’s evolved into more than just borrowing his bed a couple times or helping each other out. It’s surpassed the fear of whatever habit you were afraid of forming from doing so. It’s become a dependency to get that adrenaline high from simply riling each other up.

You have an assumption that if you were to end up in Logan’s bed again, somehow, there will be a point of no return that you’ll be faced with. There aren’t many more excuses that can be used for explaining to yourselves why you’re together in bed before you have to recognize the truth.

That platonic line is being stretched too thin, and you’re not sure how much farther it can go.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“How’ve you been sleeping?”

“Fine. You?”

“Could be better.” Logan hides his smirk, but you can hear it in his voice.

You narrow your eyes skeptically as he fishes around in the fruit bowl sitting in the middle of the kitchen island.

“How so?” You ask. Your legs swing leisurely as you sit upon the chilled countertop on his left, idly waiting for Storm to show up and go with you to training.

A smug, tight-lipped grin flashes across his face, a green apple rolling around in his palms before he puts it back. “You could be there,” he provokes, his eyes bright.

It’s your turn to raise a brow at him, but you can’t stop your smile. “Oh?”

He turns to you, tenderly grabbing the tops of your thighs and parting them slightly to stand between your legs.

This isn’t the first time he’s done this, and he knows it rouses you in all the right ways. But, neither of you will do anything about it. Not even a brief kiss.

“Come on,” he goads, planting his hands down next to your hips, bringing himself in closer as he bears his weight on his arms. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” He sways his head side to side to emphasize his point.

Fuck. That’s good.

That may be exactly what you did for him, but it’s now a figure of speech for something else entirely. It’s almost impossible to argue against either way, as if you want to. This is what you’ve been patiently waiting for.

You put your hands over his as you lean back a little to put some distance between you. “How sweet,” you hum.

His eyes flick from yours to your lips one too many times before you continue. “You start to miss me?” You tease as you lean forward again, echoing what he said to you the night your window got smashed in.

“Smart-ass,” he mutters as you laugh quietly. The tips of your noses barely graze each other as he steps in closer again. You’re almost at the same height like this.

“Save me the left side,” you advise, bringing your hands to his shoulders as you fondle his white t-shirt between your fingers. You’re so close, and he’s already so warm against you just like this.

“Always do.”

━━━━

You want to rip your heart out of your chest from how hard it’s pounding against your ribs. It’s almost throwing you forward with each heavy beat.

Three resounding knocks fill the hallway as you shuffle on your feet, waiting for Logan to open the door.

It feels like you’re doing something bad. Something parents would warn their kids against. Something greatly envied.

Everything inside you feels on fire. Your thoughts, desires, anxiety, all jumbling together into one distorted state of mind and body.

“Ah, welcome back.” His sarcastic tone makes your face go hot. A satisfied smirk crosses his lips as he runs a hand through his shaggy, unstyled hair.

You shake your head, pursing your lips. “Knock it off.” You gently shove at his bare chest. Misbehaviour already. But are you really surprised?

Logan grabs your wrist, delicately guiding you into his room. “You enjoy it,” he says lowly, quickly shutting the door as soon as you’re in.

“Maybe,” you hum in response, pulling away from his grasp and seeking out your side of the bed. Logan follows closely behind, giving your ass a light smack in encouragement before he cuts away to his side while you jolt in shock, a stunned look on your face as you whip your head around to him across the bed.

“Oh, really?” You scoff. He’s biting back a smile, not moving until he knows what you’ll do next. He’s never gone that far before.

“I’m sorry, that was rude—how can I make it up to you?” He almost chokes on a laugh, pulling his dog tag back and forth along the chain while he considers you.

This Logan is very different from the one you were met with the first night he let you in his space. This one is attentive and exuberant, yet he hasn’t given you much up until this point right now. You’ve gotten way too comfortable with him without even doing anything to you.

In this moment, he isn’t the brooding, animalistic Wolverine many see him as. He’s just Logan—for you.

You watch him carefully, easing yourself onto the bed. “Get in the fucking bed,” you slap his side of the mattress with a thump of your palm. “And do what you promised earlier,” you stare pointedly at him.

He owes you that “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” favour he decided to pull out to get you here.

“Mm, alright, alright,” he surrenders, a look of amusement still on his face as he kneels onto the bed. “I thought of a pretty good idea for it,” he says softly, crawling to sit next to you on top of the blanket as the bed-frame creaks with the added weight.

Your shoulders almost brush against each other. You shift, turning your body fully toward him. “Oh? Wh—woah!”

You squeal when his strong hands latch onto your sides, lifting you just enough to pull you over his legs to plant you on his lap. He leans back against the headboard, pulling on your thighs so you straddle him tightly.

He looks devilish when you catch his gaze again, and you know what’s coming. What’s been coming. Your hands find their places on his shoulders, warm and taut, as his hands hold your hips.

The bond between you will culminate tonight. It will be wrapped in a blanket and trapped between two alike souls that lie heart-to-heart in the dead of night. It will be perpetual.

The heat of him between your legs makes you restless. It’s just you, him, and the darkness in the quiet room you’ve become too familiar with.

“Logan…” you trail off bashfully when you feel something firm through his sweats poke against your cunt. It clearly doesn’t take much to excite him.

“Hm?” He takes you in for a split second, hands running from your hips up to your chest leisurely with a sharp inhale, not yet completely bothered by the fact that you have a shirt on.

You suck in a shaky breath when your hips accidentally shift over his bulge from his hands pushing and pulling over you.

“What’s the idea?” Your voice wavers.

You know what it is. He knows that. You just want to hear him say it and fill the silence.

“Something I’ve wanted for a while,” he murmurs, eyes hyper-focused on you.

Your fingers dance their way to the sides of his neck, brushing along the supple skin while you feel muscles and tendons flex with every slight movement. You subtly press the pad of your index finger against the pulse point right under his jaw, just to ground yourself and truly feel that Logan is there in front of you.

His pulse is steady but hard, much like yours, and the prickle of energy festering against the finger almost makes it go numb from not accepting it into your body.

“Show me, then.” You smile sweetly, leaning in closer while you tilt his head up with the hand under his jaw, your finger slipping from his pulse and caressing over the dense, coarse hair along his cheek.

Your noses bump while your lips part in anticipation. His eyes flutter as he falls into you and frantically claims your mouth in an unbreakable kiss.

The first kiss. Nothing could tear him from you in this moment.

Your hands cradle his cheeks, keeping him from pulling off too far. His hands scratch and paw at your back, trying to find a way to somehow get you closer against him.

It’s all a little messy, your lips mostly just mashing together without any rhyme or reason, but neither of you care. You only care about how electrifying it feels to finally have Logan and feel how perfectly connected you are together after all these nights. You go together like a key and its lock.

“Logan,” you pant when his mouth releases yours for a fraction of a breath. The seconds between kisses dwindle the more you take from each other.

Your thighs tense as he pulls half an inch away just to reconnect more crazed as his lips lock over your bottom one aimlessly. Something deep inside you trembles and aches.

He grunts, accidentally sucking the tip of your tongue briefly before slotting his lips back over yours in an apology. “Hold on,” he mumbles in a rush against your parted lips. He knows what you’re asking—or trying to ask. He snakes an arm up along your spine and wraps the other around your waist.

Then the world is tilting.

He drops you on your back on the bed from his lap, hovering over you as he distracts you with harsh but pleasing kisses and wet bites along your neck, settling his hips heavily between your thighs. You squirm and feel how bolts of arousal are making your cunt pulse involuntarily.

Logan groans. “Fuck—I can smell it. I smell you.” He slowly grinds his hips into yours almost reflexively. He squeezes his eyes shut, and you tip your chin up to press a chaste kiss to his slick lips.

“Taste…if you want to,” you propose, lightly scratching up and down his shoulders and arms, only enough to leave faint red lines for a couple seconds.

Logan’s eyes almost roll into the back of his head before he gives it a small shake, a conflicted look overtaking his face. “Of course I fucking want to, but—fuck—next time. I promise.” He swallows whatever you were going to say with a deep kiss that has you nearly shaking when he sucks on your bottom lip.

“Let’s just take things easy,” he says roughly, bearing his weight on his left arm while he tries to get your sleep shorts and underwear off.

A promise of a next time makes your brain go fuzzy like static.

“I’ll hold you to it, then,” you resolve, lifting your hips as much as you can for him to lean back and pull away to wrestle your clothes the rest of the way down your legs, discarding them just as quickly.

“I hope you will,” he breathes through a small laugh as he shuffles on his knees. He doesn’t want to completely overwhelm you and scare you off, he just wants to enjoy you in a simple way that won’t entirely ruin you for tomorrow.

He doesn’t know what you can or cannot handle, but he’s going to find out.

The fresh air in the room brushes cooly against your wet cunt. It’s a nice contrast to how fiery your whole body feels, but Logan feels even warmer than you somehow. Maybe wolverine’s just run hot.

His sweats have ridden down his hips from his desperate grinding against you, and the dangerous cut of his v-line grows more and more narrow as the waistband teases the reveal of what’s underneath.

You watch him—palming his dick once as your knees sway side-to-side in waiting. His thumbs hook under the stretchy fabric, working what remains of his clothes down his sturdy thighs.

“It’s rude to stare.” He pops a brow, a smug, arrogant grin quirking his lips.

You push yourself to sit up, considerably shorter than him in this position as he stands on his knees, and walk two fingers up his toned stomach to his chest, avoiding the hard cock between you.

He looks at you with curiosity until your hand grabs his dog tag in a fist, pulling it towards you. “Then stop showing me your dick,” you say as he leans in to your pulling a little to not have the chain break away.

You knew the night Logan dropped his pants in front of you and let you eye-up his bulge would come back to haunt you. But it’s alluring. Big. Curves a little to the left, barely noticeable. A respectable amount of hair decorates the space between his bellybutton and the base of his cock.

He gives in to the tension on the chain, falling back to the mattress with you and trapping you between his arms as his cock rests heavy on your clit.

“How about I find somewhere to put it?” His smile pushes a whole new wave of arousal from you.

“It would be a damn shame if you didn’t,” you say against his mouth, giving your hips a roll just to tease him before hugging his waist tightly with your knees.

“Good.” He gives you a strong kiss with a small grunt, running his hands over your sides under your shirt. The movement pushes it up, up, up, until you have no choice but to stretch your arms out above you and let him slide it off between more thoughtless kisses, leaving you entirely bare.

He lets you breathe for a moment, dipping his head to bite and suck marks along your collarbones messily. You squeeze around his hips harder, trying to get him to give you something other than his scratchy cheeks rubbing against your skin and the chilled steel of the dog tag dragging over your chest.

The tip of his cock falls and catches over your clit when he moves lower, licking and sucking over your chest like a starved animal finding food for the first time in a week. You gasp from the mixed sensations.

“C’mon, kitty cat, you can do all this while inside m-me,” you say breathily, fingers digging into his shoulders to stop yourself from trembling too much.

Logan bites over a nipple before pulling himself back up to look at you. “Is that a promise?” He says lowly, that stupid smirk gracing his face again.

“Try it and find out,” you demand, enjoying the sting of the deeper bites blooming on your torso.

He purses his lips, shifting his weight back onto his knees to grab ahold of his cock to angle and guide it in.

“Hm, guess no lube is needed,” he muses when he gets a look at your cunt, sparing you a glance through his lashes.

You roll your eyes shut when your whole body lights up red-hot. “Jesus fucking Christ, Logan,” you slap a hand over your eyes as you grimace. You don’t want to be that aware of your naked self right now.

He suppresses whatever expression was about to cross his face when his cock notches itself between your soaked folds, teasing your hole with the blunt tip. His brows pinch together and you forget the embarrassment from his crude remark.

But he leaves his cock like that, on the precipice of sliding the rest of the way in with a snap of his hips. Instead, he carefully uncurls his upper body to crawl his way back up to you while holding his hips deathly still.

“Alright, stay with me,” he whispers against your neck when you moan, pressing a tender kiss to your rabid pulse in reassurance.

“O-okay,” you sigh, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the roots while the other squeezes around his arm as best as it can. You’re not even really sure what he’s saying.

He kisses up your cheek and over to your lips again. You try to keep up with his quick mouth, licking and sucking whatever part you can get ahold of, but you’ve become lost in the feeling of him all over you.

He’s in your mouth, on your chest, against your stomach, nudging your cunt. Everywhere.

He slips his tongue over yours, securing your lips together at the same time he pushes his cock in halfway. Now you understand what he was saying.

The lightheadedness from being filled, even just a bit, almost makes you lose yourself. The stretch makes your stomach drop, your legs shake, and your mouth fall open with a whine.

“A-ah—fuck. Fuck, Logan,” you whimper, fisting his hair with both hands to stop yourself from falling apart.

He groans, either at the grip you have on his hair or how good your cunt feels already, and runs a hand up your left thigh in comfort as you squeeze around his hips tighter to draw him in.

“Just a bit more,” he soothes, trying to resist the urge to slide into you in one fell swoop. It would be so easy to just let his hips fall into yours and fill your cunt.

Another heated kiss, another few inches. He works his cock into you the rest of the way with ease. You guess the lube thing wasn’t really a joke. His hungry, needy kisses may have also helped with that.

You choke on your gasps, not wanting to get too loud, and Logan does the same. He tries to muffle both of your moans with his mouth, attempting to form complete kisses, but it just turns into you panting against each other as he finally bottoms out, hitting his end.

Your legs relax around his waist as he deftly rocks his hips in small thrusts to get you familiar with his size, his small grunts filling the air each time you swallow him whole.

You let out a deep breath, dropping your hands back to his tense shoulders. He lines your jaw with soft kisses, fisting the blanket in his hands beside your head.

“Fuck. Already feels too good,” he moans, pressing into you harder and unintentionally rubbing himself over your tender clit.

You smile, squirming while he works down your neck again. “Best of luck,” you huff, amused at the fact that he might not last as long as he wants to.

He brings his face back to yours, a completely blissful expression controlling his features, but there’s still some mischief in his hazel eyes. “Oh? Yeah?”

You hold each other’s gaze, both equally dazed and overwhelmed, and he draws his hips back and pushes into your wet cunt with a complete, strong thrust. The sound of his pelvis hitting against the backs of your thighs makes him laugh in pleasure and satisfaction when you instantly roll your eyes and head back.

Your cunt quivers, gripping him tight, and then it’s Logan’s turn to lose composure. He drops his head to your chest, managing a few deep breaths as he slowly pulls out halfway just to push right back into you, over and over.

It’s a pace that isn’t quite pure, mindless fucking, but it’s also not somewhere near earnest love-making. It’s something that feels specifically curated for you. Something that feels measured and sincere.

The strength of his thighs hitting against yours pushes you up the mattress a few inches, and you don’t know whether to gasp or moan. He reaches somewhere deep inside you, and you know he can feel that, too.

A helpless groan slips through Logan’s lips. “Where have you fucking been, huh?” He muses through shaky breaths, the determined plunge of his cock hitting something that makes your muscles tense throughout your body.

Your fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck, keeping him close. “Two doors down,” you giggle, understanding that’s not quite what he was asking.

“Fucking smart-ass,” he grumbles, silencing any further rebuttals with a wet kiss. You don’t think you could manage much more of a conversation even if you wanted to.

The silence is quickly filled with obscene sounds that only seem to leave you wetter and Logan throbbing. You can hear your bodies connecting through your gasping for air and his choked moans, and you can feel the mess you’re making all over him. It’s smeared along the inside of your thighs from how deep he’s been hitting. The squelching only seems to make him fuck into you harder.

Something inside you starts to grow tight and wind up in your core, making you repeatedly clench around him while his cock strokes all the right spots inside you as he makes sure he’s fucking himself in to the base. He doesn’t deprive you of anything.

He drops his head to your neck, wedging his face in to latch onto the spot right where your neck starts to slope into your shoulder. The dense muscle there gives him something to basically chew on, sinking his teeth in as deep as he can without drawing blood.

“H-hah, Logan,” you whine, tilting your head into the side of his and squirming from the pleasant sting.

You feel his arm move beside you, then you hear the sound of tearing fabric as he gives a particularly brutal snap of his hips, followed by a deep groan against your skin.

You can barely form any thoughts, but you can guess what just happened. If he pulled his hand back, three long, slim holes would probably be where his knuckles are right now.

“Fu-uck, Logan, you just got t-this mattress,” you laugh a little, your words choppy from how hard he’s driving into you now.

He draws back from your neck, seeing your half-lidded eyes trying to focus on him. “Can’t always control it,” he reasons, giving you two short, fleeting kisses as you hear his claws retract from the innocent mattress.

You see the double-edged sword. You can guess that that’s the same explanation he would probably use for the nightmares. It can go either way, and now you’ve seen both sides.

“It’s okay,” you say in a hushed tone. You cradle his face, and he rests his forehead against yours. “Keep going…keep going,” you coax, face scrunching from your nearing orgasm.

You can feel it in your toes, your stomach, your shoulders—you’re tightening up everywhere, and he can undoubtedly feel it in your cunt as you pulse around him. It grips him just right for a couple seconds before relaxing completely and leaving him to chase for more.

“Keep squeezing me like that and you’ll get whatever you want,” he offers, fighting to maintain his steady pace for both your sakes.

You almost whine, knowing whatever your body does is beyond your control at this point.

“Just—inside.” You can’t even string together a full sentence anymore, but the urgency and stress on the last word makes Logan’s ears perk up.

He presses a soft kiss to your clammy forehead in acknowledgment, the muscles in his arms straining and flexing as he grabs ahold of his own orgasm after a particularly inviting flutter of your walls.

You’re both walking the line, teetering on the edge of utter euphoria, and you know nothing will be the same after. You don’t want it to be. You hope it isn’t.

He reaches an arm back, sliding his hand up your thigh again and slotting it behind the bend in your knee. He pushes forward—only slightly—bringing your leg closer to your stomach to stretch you open for him.

His cock brushes over something new. Something that makes you bite your tongue. The angle lets him fit perfectly against you, not hindered by the flesh of your thigh stopping his hips.

You want to cry from how good it all feels. You want to be suspended in this feeling forever. You want Logan to—

“Focus, baby. Focus on me,” he coos, bringing you back to reality. He holds the side of your head with his other hand affectionately. “Come on…come on, I know you’re almost there,” he encourages with a quick kiss that goes straight to your stomach.

The burn in your thigh from the stretch can’t overpower the sparks of your orgasm, and Logan just fanned the flames with a few little words.

You come with a broken sob, convulsing around his cock while he fucks you through it, submitting to his own orgasm only seconds after with deep, shaky breaths as he empties himself inside your cunt.

He doesn’t pull out or pull away. He relaxes on top of you, sweaty and sticky with cum, and he places the barest whisper of a kiss on your chin, your parted lips, your nose, and then your forehead.

Your ears ring from your orgasm, eyes still slightly out of focus. Your body trembles from your muscles finally releasing the tension they’ve been caught up in.

You desperately suck in air, trying to calm your pounding heart, and you just lie there and let Logan walk your body through a cool-down. Soft kisses. Soft touches. Soft looks. Between sweat, cum, and whatever else.

He rocks a little on his knees, weak from his release, and carefully pulls out of you with a huff as he caresses your stomach and thighs appreciatively to wind you down. You get a good look at him. Not a scratch. His hair tells a story, though—one where he’s completely possessed by bliss.

You probably look like you survived an animal attack.

“Are we even?” Logan says through a kiss against your stomach.

A mindless laugh crawls from your throat, caught up in the feeling of his hands rubbing circles over your hips. “I think I still owe you,” you argue, resting your hands over his as they travel smoothly up your side.

You’ll find a way to make everything up to him. Including the sex. The scale is now tipping to his side too much. All the nights spent in his bed, what he’s done for you, what you’ve done for each other, may just be immeasurable, but that won’t stop you from finding a way to get him back for it all.

“We’ll figure it out,” he mumbles, snaking back up your body and pressing himself against you. Face-to-face. Chest-to-chest.

You mindfully run your hands over the sides of his head, trying to tame his hair and style it back to how it was earlier in the night. It doesn’t work. He enjoys it anyway.

“Do I have the pleasure of staying here tonight?” You ask rhetorically, enjoying the warmth of him on top of you against the brisk air creeping in from the cracked window.

Logan blinks. “You can stay every night.”

A loving smile springs over your face. This may be the beginning of the end to your troubles and worries.

You—maybe foolishly—trust him. You trust that he won’t accidentally bury his claws in your side during the night, but you’ve had impressive luck with that up until this point. The only thing you can do now is continue to push that luck.

Healing isn’t linear, and you can’t expect someone to fix you, but everyone finds their thing at some point.

You slither your hand down to his neck, index finger grazing over his pulse again. You feel the energy biting against you.

Your lips graze over his, tempting him to give you a slow, deep kiss. “Can I have the left side?” Rhetorical, again.

Logan chuckles against your mouth. “Always.”

#did my best to appease readers from the criticism i’ve seen about logan fics so. lol #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #xmen x reader #xmen x you #xmen smut #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x you #marvel smut #the wolverine x reader #x men x reader #logan howlett fluff #wolverine fanfiction

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peachsukii · 18 days ago

Text

— emergency contact

it’s been two years since you’ve seen your ex-boyfriend, and didn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. a nasty villain fight lands you in the hospital during an overnight patrol and leaves you unable to tell the doctors who to call in your dazed state.

✮ content. late 20s. ex-boyfriend bakugo, hospitalization, sappy confessions & second chances. distance makes the heart grow fonder kind of deal.

『 #reis softie sundays 』

Sharp, shooting pain down your back and a desperate cry from your partner ⎯ that was the only thing you remember from the last…four hours? Time is becoming illusive at this point, blending together with how fast everything unraveled around you.

Were you injured on patrol? Did that villain slip through your fingers and escape? Where was your partner in all this chaos?

“Doctor, she’s waking up,” you hear in the distance, muffled but clear enough to understand. A nurse walks into your blurred vision, a soft smile on her lips. “Hi hon, you’re in the hospital. We’re taking you to your room now, hang tight.”

All you can manage to do is nod in acknowledgement, the world spinning on its axis and making you extremely dizzy. Your eyes fall closed, a hazy sleep welcoming you in seconds.

When you wake next, you're not quite sure how much time has passed. The room sits in darkness, the only sources of light coming from the moon outside the window and the various machines chirping around you. There's a static in your head, as if you're stuck on a radio frequency that hasn't been adjusted to the correct channel. Even with all the noise in your head, a familiar voice can be heard outside in the hallway, one you'd never mistake for anyone else.

"It's late," a nurse says, presumably trying to convince him to go home. "Are you sure you want to stay? We can try her other contacts again in a few hours."

"M'sure. Do I need'ta sign in or whatever?"

"No, that's alright. I'll notate it on her chart and let the front desk know. I'll be back in a bit and we can talk more about treatment."

The door slides open to prove you're not imagining things ⎯ your ex isn't a manifestation of your delirious state. Bakugo's standing in the dim light of the hallway, tip toeing inside and shutting the door as quietly as possible. When his eyes fall upon your hospital bed, he notices that you're awake and sighs. "Been awhile."

You don't have the energy to do this dance with him, to go back and forth with lightheartedness like old times. "Why are you here?"

His lips press into a straight line, jaw clenched tight as he seems to silently ask himself the same question. He makes his way over to the bed, taking a seat at the edge by your feet. "I'm still one of your emergency contacts in your hero file."

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. There's no way you haven't updated your database profile in two years...right? Bakugo catches onto your confusion and explains before you have a chance to press him further on the matter. "M'the only one who answered."

What time was it, anyways? Your eyes bounce around the room swiftly to find a wall clock. You squint a bit to read it, finally making out the numbers. 4:30...am?

"What did they call you for?" you yawn, rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes. "I don't even know what happened."

He takes a deep breath as a large hand finds your thigh, resting atop the thin blanket. His touch makes you want to melt into a puddle, memories of your past relationship coming back in waves.

"They didn't tell me much, only that it was life or death. Thankfully, your ass chose life." He shakes his head, a quiet huff escaping him. "Somethin' about a villain's poison quirk. Ya got hit in the spine and it paralyzed you temporarily, an' you fell from someplace high up. Your partner caught ya and the paramedics got to you just in time."

Oh. Well, that explains the pain from earlier.

"But why did you answer their call, Baku⎯" you cut yourself off to correct his name as it leaves your lips. "Katsuki?"

"I'm not heartless, just 'cause we haven't talked in ages doesn't mean I don't care about ya."

You shift in your bed a bit, eyes gravitating toward the window to avoid his gaze. Truth be told, you two ended on decent terms and not maliciously. Wrong place, wrong time...at least, that's what you two chalked it up to. You were both too busy with hero work, too absent from each other's lives to properly be a couple. After a year, you convinced yourself that you were satisfied watching him from afar, catching brief glimpses of his life through interviews and news reports. That was your excuse, a cowardly way to keep him out of reach and prevent you, and him, from getting distracted.

"Hey." Bakugo's fingers squeeze your thigh to recollect your attention, the blanket crumpling under his palm. You're terrified to look at him, knowing full well that in your battered state, you'll crumble like stone if he says anything remotely sweet. Those vermillion eyes of his always had a way of making you weak ⎯ soft. "I was thinkin' on my way over here that I should'a called ya, reached out to keep in touch. M'sorry for not doin' that."

"It's...fine," you stammer out, a shaky hand coming up to wave off his concern. "We don't have to talk about that now."

"I don't wanna only talk to you when you're hurt, or worse..." he trails off, screwing his eyes shut to avoid the dread lingering in his chest. "Look. What m'gettin' at is you scared the shit outta me, and it made me realize that I've got a lot to say after all these years."

Oh boy, you brace yourself for impact, expecting the explosive nature to come pouring out any second. But, it never comes.

Before you could stop him, Bakugo's on his feet and leaning over the bed, arms slung around your shoulders to pull you close. A strange but familiar veil of comfort drapes over you in the moment, pulling on your heartstrings. Your eyes begin to sting when the words he whispers finally reach your ears. "M'done usin' hero work as an excuse to avoid you. I wanna talk this shit out...when you're ready. I'd love to make ya dinner again."

You can't help but let out a breathless laugh, arms finally coming up to return his hug. "Only if you promise to make your special katsudon. I've been craving it for weeks."

He chuckles over your shoulder, squeezing you a bit tighter in response. "Deal."

Who knew that a villain was what you two needed to face your fears, to finally admit that the spark was never smothered into nothingness. And this time, something tells you that you'll both make damn sure it stays ablaze.

happy softie sunday!! I know it's been awhile since I've written one. hope you don't mind some baku-sap :)

✮ network. @pixelcafe-network

✮ tags. @slayfics @maddietries @starieqq

@liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @simp-plague

@napbatata @Yoyolovesdaiki @kirishimaeijiromyman

@strwbrrykthv @awkwardchick87 @stunies @sakufilm

#reis softie sundays #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #soft bakugou #bakugo fluff #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia fluff

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snowvies · 4 months ago

Text

Mr. Badgley

Penn Badgley x Fem!Reader

summary: you can't stop thinking about your married piano teacher, Mr. Badgley. and one day he slides under the instrument to show you how much he's been thinking about you too.

wc: 1k

cw: age gap (reader 19, Penn late thirties), cheating, piano teacher x student, pussy eating, fingering, female masturbation

Sundays are your favorite days, especially ones like this when the clouds hang low with a murky swirl in the sky. You're nineteen, and college is kicking your ass but you promised yourself you wouldn't think about the papers due when you're here, at Mr. Badgley's house.

You found his ad on craigslist, piano lessons..fifty bucks an hour you would've scrolled past it until you saw him, and his family. You felt safer in a random man's house when his wife and newborn baby were in the same room with you. So you started going there, ever since your freshman year.

Your raggedy car rolllsss to stop and you get out to see the lonely house, picked apart to be perfect, not a single thing out of place... except yourself.

His wife answers the door a few minutes after knocking, the cold biting your bare legs as you run in for warmth, completely missing her scowl at your lack of kicking the mat with your dirty boots.

Mr. Badgley offers you a warm smile, hair combed perfectly, sweater ironed and pants straight like every weekend. His eyes always look a little empty when you come. His wife jingles her keys around her finger as she readjusts the baby on her hip

"I'm going out, be done when I'm home" the same line. Every week. You smile her way but she doesn't pay mind to it, leaving you and her husband to play. you turn to Mr. Badgley but he's already walking to the connecting living room of the tiny house, sitting on the worn bench as he slides the fallboard up.

You sit next to him as he wears an excited smile, when he's like this, playing with you, it doesn't seem orchestrated by his wife. Every move he makes is analyzed by her, except this. The only reason he's allowed to do this is because they needed the extra money.

"Let's start where we left off last week, yes?" he asked and you nodded, you inhaled the mixture of musk and old books that surrounded the pianist as he began the background cords. his eyes are on you, they shine as his spine relaxes into the music and you begin your part. fingers dancing over keys as you try to remember the pattern

Your eyes squeezed shut once you messed the keys up. He smiles softly and lets a laugh out of his nose at your reaction

"Like this," his larger palm rests on top of yours as he guides your fingers, you nod and try again.

Soon enough an hour passes and you both rise from the bench and you dig into your purse for the fifty bucks you crumpled into it this morning, but, warm hands slide on top of your shoulder and the older man shakes his head.

"No need" he grins and tries to send you off but you insist, grabbing the money but he pushes you out the door.

"I will not have you pay for something that I enjoy just as much, Y/n, have a lovely week" The door softly shuts and you're left stunned.

You roll around your dorm bed, restless as the man's words keep ringing in your head. Why didn't he let you pay?

Maybe you're being dramatic. But it isn't like the Badgleys are set either.

You shut your eyes in a huff, suffocating yourself in the pillow under you as you replay the keys in an attempt to lull you asleep

But it isn't just the keys you're thinking about...

It's how his hand guided yours, it's how he looked at you when it was your part to play, it's his scent, it's his being. It's driving you mad.

You arch your back slowly, fingers sliding down your body until you get to your aching core. slick-filled fingers rubbing yourself at the thought of your teacher's hands touching you, grabbing you, loving you.

You moan into the pillow, legs shaking as you cream around your fingers, the thought of him drives you wild.

So just how will you act the next time you see him?

Before you know it, it's Sunday and you're back at the Badgleys, with his wife announcing her departure and the formal greetings of you and your teacher, you're back at that bench, side by side.

He starts the cords, and you follow trying to calm your shaking legs as you think about what fueled you that night. You couldn't even look him in the eyes this session.

His hand softly squeezes your bare thigh and you look back at the man.

"You're completely off" he informs you and you don't think your face could get redder.

"I-I'm so sorry...let's try again" you panic but his thumb rubs loving circles on your flesh.

"You usually think the world ends when you mess up, but you kept playing this time, you're mind is somewhere else Ms. Y/n."

"Sorry Mr. Badgley" you murmur

"Talk to me, get it off your chest so we can get back to playing" he smiles and you nod slowly

"...Why didn't you let me pay last time?" you ask, he stops for a moment as the hand on your thigh now rests on his face as he thinks for a moment.

"I just feel like, something so pleasurable shouldn't be bought," he says above a whisper and you feel your entire face glow, and he must have noticed with how he laughs.

"Not those pleasures, Ms. Y/n" he smiles and you don't think you've ever been so embarrassed. But when his laughter stops, his eyes swirl softly into something darker, in that moment you feel exposed to every thought as he eyes you.

He stands, hands finding your shoulders

"Keep playing"

You take a shaky breath as your thighs begin to shake once more, fingers finding the keys as you start the song

"Good," he whispers, his scents overwhelming you now as you feel almost dizzy while playing, you barely notice how he slips under the piano.

"Mr. Badgley, what are you doing?" you gasp as his dark brown eyes gaze up at you

"Keep.playing" he says sternly, and with a swallow, you keep going

He kisses your knees and you feel yourself sticking to your panties as he spreads them apart.

He has a wife. He has a kid. What are you doing?

"You're doing great" he huffs, kissing your thighs, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment as his fingers dance up to your panties.

He pulls them down slowly, your wetness sticking to the fabric before they are lost in his pockets

Your bare pussy is in front of your teacher's face as he rubs up and down your thighs taking a shaky breath in

You slam the keys as his tongue licks up your pussy, he moans into you before forcing you to scoot closer into his face, his hands wrapping around your ass as he slurps and moans at your cunt.

"Mr.- fuck" you cry, hands climbing to try and stop your moans as your hips buck up to hump his face

"You taste so so good" he groans, making out with your pussy as he sucks at your clit just to tongue fuck your hole

Hot tears flow down your face as he stares up at you, watching you come undone for him.

You shake around him, orgasm approaching closer with every lick, he sucks on your slit before adding a long finger to your hole. You throw your head back as he fingers you, flicking his tongue relentlessly as his finger curls inside you.

You feel him whine and moan against your pussy, and when you look down you see him gripping and grabbing at his hard-on as he eats you out. You cry as that sends you over and you cum around his finger

You're panting as he curls his fingers a few more times before shoving it into his mouth and licking you clean, you're shaking and wide-eyed as hair sticks to your face and he crawls out from under the piano

Right, weren't you two supposed to be playing right now? Isn't his wife about to be home and he's sucking his fingers because they still taste like you?

He helps you off the bench and you stare into the stained cushion but he turns your chin to him before kissing you deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue before breaking it off with a simple

"My wife is on her way...see you in our next session Ms. Y/n"

And you can't wait for next Sunday.

an: lmk how obvious it is idk anything about pianos. This is based on a dream I had last night 😵‍💫🖤 I hope you liked it <333

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mammonsrockstargf · 2 months ago

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GRILLED CHEESE

pairing: beelzebub x gn!reader contents: smut, unprotected sex, tiny bit of choking, pet name (sweets), praise, he bites you once, multiple orgasms, overstim wordcount: 1k

It’s empty in the kitchen as Beel sits you on the counter before turning to the stove and beginning to make the grilled cheese. You watch his back with curiosity as he flips the sandwich, and the aroma of toast and melted cheese begins to fill the room.

Beelzebub hums to himself before he puts the finished food on a plate and turns to you. You expect him to chow down the whole thing in one bite. After all, that is why you assume he pulled you out of his comfy bed and down to the kitchen.

But instead of doing that, he slots himself between your legs and holds out the grilled cheese in front of you. You raise your brows, eyes shifting between the food and Beel.

“You're not gonna eat that, big guy?” you ask, and Beel shakes his head.

“No. It’s for you,” he replies, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You’re slightly surprised, but you’re never one to turn down a good sandwich, so you slowly take a bite. Beel watches with interest, licking his lips as his eyes gleam red. You chew on the food and almost moan at the taste.

“Mmmm, it’s really good, Beel,” you say. “But why are you making me grilled cheese at 10 p.m.?” you ask before taking another bite. Beel sheepishly smiles before taking a bite himself.

“It’s for energy,” he replies, and you giggle. After all, it’s just a casual Sunday evening. It’s not like you’re going to the gym or anything.

“What do I need energy for?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Beelzebub bottoms out, his thick cock stretching your walls to the max as he fucks his cock into you. With your legs on either side of his hips, he practically lays on top of you, pressing you into his mattress. He has one hand on your hip to keep you steady, the other is around your throat, applying light pressure that makes you feel dizzy.

Beel mouths at your jaw, tasting your salty skin, while he leaves breathy moans in your ear that make heat pool in your gut. You claw at his back while he slowly grinds his cock into you in circular motions, his leaky tip pushing at that mushy spot that makes euphoric waves of pleasure course through your body, all the way to your toes.

“You feel so good, sweets,” Beel mutters, giving your cheek a sloppy kiss. He pulls his hips back all the way back till only his tip is enveloped by your gooey insides before he buries himself to the hilt again. “Fuck,” you gasp, arching your back into him as Beel repeats the motion.

“I never want to leave,” Beel mutters, eyes lidded with how drunk he is off your body, your warmth, your taste. “I’d fuck you forever if I could.”

You whine as Beel begins to pick up his pace, fucking you harsher, faster. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, while his hand on your hip grips you tighter, mixing pain with pleasure. “So good for me,” Beelzebub moans, his voice coming out breathier than you’ve ever heard as he pistons his hips into yours, balls slapping against your ass. The familiar knot in your gut begins to tighten as his cock bullies your insides, carving a hole for himself in there. You squeeze your eyes shut, gasping for air as you’re fucked into the mattress.

“I’m gonna come, Beel,” you announce, and you feel his teeth grazing your neck as he continues to fuck you at a ruthless pace. “You’re gonna make me come,” you repeat, and you feel his dick twitch inside of you as he groans into your neck.

“Come on, sweets, wanna feel it. Come for me,” he says. If there’s one thing Beel gets off on, it’s your pleasure. Violet eyes meet yours as he watches your expression. Desperation and hunger mixed in them, quickly turning into satisfaction as you reach your high, sensitive walls clamping down on his length as you come. Your mouth shapes into an o, your liquids spraying Beel’s abdomen as you cry out.

“Fuck, you look-” Beel sounds completely out of breath as he licks his lips and watches your cum glistening on your skin. “So good,” he murmurs, coming down to kiss you as he continues to fuck you. You moan into his mouth, your hips bucking involuntarily, as Beel sucks on your tongue, now focused on reaching his high.

He pulls out before turning you around, gripping your hips, and sliding in again. The new angle makes you feel even fuller as you drool into the pillow beneath you. Beel lays on top of you, chest against your back, as he grinds his hips into you from behind, his tip repeatedly nudging your sweet spot. Your eyes roll back as Beelzebub sinks his teeth into your shoulder, a growl coming from the bottom of his stomach as he comes inside of you, filling you with rows of his cum. He straightens up again, taking a second to admire the new bite mark, before pulling out and watching his cum spill out of you.

Beelzebub feels satisfaction course through him as he turns you around again, coming down to kiss you. You reciprocate, running your fingers through his sweaty hair and pulling it out of his eyes, a delirious giggle leaving you.

“Beel, I think you just rearranged my guts,” you mumble against his lips and Beel hums.

“That’s why you needed energy,” he replies, and you roll your eyes. You gasp when Beel slips inside of your warmth again.

“Beel, what are you…” In a second you’re flipped around, now in Beel’s lap, impaled on his length. “W– wait, I’m not-” you whine at the new position, resting your head on Beel’s shoulder as his hands dig into your hips and he experimentally thrusts up.

“You still have more energy, right?” Beelzebub asks, voice coaxing and sweet as he helps you circle your hips. You close your eyes, biting down on your bottom lip. “You can take more, right?” His drooly tip kisses your sweet spot, throwing all sense out the window as you feel another orgasm on the horizon. Beelzebub kisses your head, pulling you closer.

Big arms wrap around your waist, helping you go up and down, and Beel moans in satisfaction.

“See? Grilled cheese gives you energy.”

thank you for reading!

masterlist | dividers by cafekitsune

#alba writes #obey me beelzebub #gn reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me beelzebub x you #obey me smut #obey me beelzebub smut #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me x gn!reader #obey me x mc #obey me beelzebub x mc #obey me fic #obey me drabble #obey me #x reader

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mermaidgirl30 · 6 months ago

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✨Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star Part 1: Kiss Me at Coachella✨

Bodyguard! Joel Miller x singer fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I do not know what came over me, but this was heavily inspired after watching Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso” Coachella performance. This one shot took over my whole Saturday and Sunday! Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me with a title and the mood board and for being my beta! 🩷 This is both in Joel and reader’s POV. Comments and reblogs make my day. Enjoy, lovelies!

Summary: You’re performing at Coachella, throwing winks and flirting with your eyes as Joel Miller watches you from the side of the stage. He’s your bodyguard, and he should know better, but he wants you just as much as you want him.

Word Count: 8.1k

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Tags: Fluff, flirting, pining, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, cute pet names, unprotected p in v, switching POVs, reader is a singer, Joel is a bodyguard, reader has long hair, large age gap (reader is 25, Joel is 44)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The warm sun glows against your glittering skin, the music pumping like sugary coffee running through your veins. The crowd chants along with you, singing every lyric you do while they hold their phones and snap videos while you twirl around to the rhythm of the upbeat song. You flash them big smiles, pose for the camera, sway your hips while your dancers match your cute little moves. You’re exhausted, almost done with your set at Coachella, but the flaming energy of the crowd keeps you going.

You spin around, pop your hip out and wave flirtatiously to Joel at the end of the stairs on the side stage. He shakes his head, chuckling to himself while he tries to act professional. That’s what bodyguards do, right? Stay professional? And he did, he really did, but you liked to tease him just a bit sometimes, get him all riled up if you could.

You see the smug smirk he tries to hide behind that patchy, greying scruff, watch the way those gorgeous honey flecked eyes scan your body. He can try to be coy all he wants, but you’ll call him on his bluff. The man is attracted to you, just like you are to him. But you can’t help it, he’s drop dead gorgeous. The way his grey threaded dark curls catch the sun rays, his ripped muscles cling to the flannels and tight t-shirts he wears on a daily basis, his corded veins spiral down his tanned arms, the way he towers over you every time he stands next to you, his deep Southern drawl that sends you into heat every time he graces you with that thick honey-like voice, and the way he’s so protective over you. But you also can’t forget that he's twice your age, which makes him even hotter.

You shouldn’t want it, want him, but you do. God, you do. At night when you’re in between your silky sheets with your fingers rubbing between your legs, you’re thinking of him. Those big, meaty hands, that rough tongue, his deep, gravelly voice that must sound so sweet filled with dirty words. You can’t help yourself, you want Joel Miller, your bodyguard.

He watches you strut the lit up stage, the sparkles on your pink dress catching the flecks of his wandering eyes. He thinks you look so gorgeous twirling around in that short tease of a dress. Every time you bend over or spin around, he can see those skimpy short shorts that barely cover the globes of your ass. You like the attention though, love to tease the crowd just like you’re teasing him now.

He sees the discrete winks you throw his way on the stage, the way you lick those plump, glossy lips that seem to call directly to him. You’re trying to get a reaction out of him. He knows you too well. You may be flirting with the starving crowd who begs for more, but you’re also flirting with him. And he can’t help but get drawn into those beautiful eyes of yours that glisten in the sunlight, can’t help the way his cock is straining against the zipper of his denim jeans right now, precum spilling over the tip thinking about thrusting between those pretty legs of yours. He wants you so fucking badly, and you have no idea.

You twirl your curls flirtatiously around your finger, flipping your hair behind your shoulders while he watches from the corner of the stage, pretending like that’s his hand wrapped around your flowing locks. Another wink his way and he’s mush against the edge of the stage. Maybe you are trying to get a reaction out of him, you just love to tease him, but he loves it just the same. You’re nothing but a little troublemaker.

He thinks about you all the time on those lonely nights on long tours, when he’s under his pristine sheets that graze against his hardening cock. He whispers your name under his breath when he’s stroking himself, pretending his hand is yours gliding over him, spreading precum with your soft hands, your pretty mouth. And when he cums he thinks of your glittering eyes, imagines you encouraging him on while he spills hot ropes of cum all over his soft tummy.

He may feel a little guilty after doing that, those dirty thoughts that swirl in his head night after night, but there’s no way in hell he feels bad about doing it. He’d have you every day if it was up to him. Oh, yes. He’d ravage your body till you had nothing left to give but your own breath that blows gently against his hungry lips. Damned if he does, and damned if he doesn’t. Either way he’s completely fucked.

The end of your routine is drawing close, the last number halfway over while the sun kisses your tanned skin. He knows you’re tired, can see it in the sweat that glistens like diamonds down your dainty arms. He’d go and scoop you up in his arms, let you wrap your own around his neck while he carried you to safety, away from prying vultures in the crowd, but he knows paparazzi would snap those pictures in a heartbeat and cause a scene in the tabloids. The pop princess and bodyguard have a scandalous affair at Coachella together. He scoffs at the thought. Fucking idiots starving for a shiny penny to add to their useless names.

The moment you sing your last line, you wave to the crowd and blow kisses to the rowdy audience. “Thank you, Coachella! See you next year!” They chant your name, begging for one more song, but your time is up. So you exit the stage all smiles with glitter falling to the ground, keeping your glow until you get to the edge of the stage.

Joel’s right there waiting for you, a water bottle and small towel in hand, just like he always does. He looks so good in his tight black t-shirt, sleeves pulling at his bulging biceps while his dark jeans hug his meaty thighs tightly. He always looks so good that you feel dizzy when he takes your hand and helps you down the stairs and off the buzzing stage.

Your breath catches in your throat when he closes his thick, calloused fingers over yours, his honey eyes bright and alert when he hands you the water bottle and dabs your sweaty forehead with the soft towel. You could melt into a puddle right here and now the way he’s looking at you all protective and warm-like.

“You really gave them a show today, darlin’,” he drawls as his dark flecks of warmth serenade you with attention.

“Yeah, you think so?”

“Mhm,” he hums, staying attentive to you while he watches you take a sip of water.

“Did I give you a show, too?” you ask all flirtatiously, batting your long eyelashes up at him as you slide your tongue slowly over your glossy lips, licking off a droplet of water.

His cheeks grow red, eyebrows fusing together as he shakes his head and runs a large hand slowly through those messy curls you so want to run your own fingers through. “C’mon, trouble. Let’s jus’ get you back to the trailer.” He grabs your elbow and drags you through the winding backstage area, dodging cords and other performers that stand in your way.

You follow next to him, quick to stay on his trail while fans scream from the right behind barricades when they see you. Joel pushes you to the left, lingering his large hands on you just a few seconds too long while he works to keep you safe. You know it’s his job, but it turns you on at the sight of him watching out for you, keeping a hand firmly on your arm, making sure no one else touches you but him.

Maybe it’s a lovesick fantasy, a fever dream that you and Joel could be more than this. More than just a bodyguard who’s just doing his job to watch out for you. You feel it, that sexual chemistry when you’re near each other, even in a large crowd that won’t stop screaming your name, demanding pictures and autographs while he pushes them away from your reach. You feel it in his heated stare, the brush of his calloused fingertips on your tanned skin, the devilish smirk he gives you when you tease him or say something you shouldn’t. You know he feels it, too. He has to. He’s just as delusional and lovesick as you. You see it in the glow of those amber eyes. He knows.

“So, you have a free night tonight, huh?” you ask as you keep your fingers curled around the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

“Sure, if you call keepin’ you out of trouble free time,” he chuckles, his brown eyes gazing back toward you, just enough to paint streaks of dark pink over your already blush caked cheeks.

“Me, trouble? Never,” you tease while you flash him a bright smile.

“Oh, you’re trouble alright. But you’re not the one I’m worried about. These Coachella fans can get pretty intense. I’d jus’ feel better if I was watchin’ out for you is all.”

“You don’t want a night off though?”

He looks back toward you and knits his eyebrows together, concern lathered all in those brown doe eyes of his. It makes you weak in the knees. “I’m alright. Besides, you’re not bad company to have.” He nudges you with his elbow and winks your way, completely knocking the breath from you.

Did Joel Miller just say you were good company? A quiet, reserved guy like him likes your company? The one that would rather grab a drink at the bar alone and sit in silence with a good book while no one bothers him? Guess you did have an affect on him afterall.

“Not bad company?” you giggle as you push against his shoulder.

“Not bad at all, darlin’. You’re jus’ the kind I need,” he says with a hidden smirk under that salt-and-pepper scruff you want to drag your fingers through. Yeah, you’re just what he needs.

Suddenly, a screaming fan comes from your left, some psycho that escaped through the wrought iron fence who stomps your way. He charges over to you, calling your name as his spindly fingers close over your arm, his other hand clawing at your pink sparkly dress. “Let me take a picture, please! I love you, I drove hours just to see you sing. Please!”

Joel rips the guy's hands off your body, pinning his hands behind his back against a caged off area while you fight to catch your breath. Your heart thunders in your chest watching Joel being so protective, possessive over you while the fan begs for mercy against Joel’s tight grip.

“Keep your fuckin’ filthy hands off of her! She’s not a toy you can just grab and demand things from. She didn’t give you permission, didn’t ask for you to claw at her dress. So I suggest you walk back out to the general admission area and stay the fuck away from her. Understood?!” His voice sounds like crackling thunder, that deep rugged breath towering over the cowering fan as he makes red marks over the fan’s useless wrists. Joel was just doing his job, one he was damn good at. But he made it look so sexy.

You stare in amazement, blinking through your thick lashes while you watch Joel shove the crazed fan through the fence, warning him to keep his distance or else he’ll wish he never stepped foot into the music festival. You gawk at him, watching the way his muscles flex underneath his t-shirt, watching the scowl across his mouth darken his menacing eyes. He’s a dominant wolf protecting his pack, and his pack is you.

You watch his flared nostrils and harsh eyes soften when he turns and looks at you, one of his large hands coming to clasp around your wrist while he assesses your wide-eyed features. “You okay?”

You nod your head slowly, keeping your gaze on him as he makes sure you’re alright. “Really, I’m fine, Joel. Thank you.”

Before he can manage a reply back to you, blinding cameras start flashing before your eyes, paparazzi swarming you as they just assessed the scene. They throw questions at you, screaming your name while you try to drown out their echoing voices.

You stick like glue to Joel’s side, latching your arms around his strong torso while you hide your face in his t-shirt beneath his shoulder. Joel wraps a protective arm around your back and guides you to safety.

“Get back! She ain’t answerin’ questions right now, she jus’ got off the stage. Leave her alone!” His deep voice hounds them, barking strict orders for them to stay back.

You’re so thankful for Joel right now, your knight in shining armor steering you to safety. The blinding lights start to slowly fade away, the reaching hands and firm demands slipping away once you enter the safe vicinity of your tour trailer.

Joel unfolds you from his safe grasp, turns you around and places one hand gently under your chin as if to say it’s okay, baby girl. They’re gone. He scans your frightened eyes, but you melt into a relaxed state when he looks at you with those concerned honey eyes that swallow you whole.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asks with eyebrows furrowed together in a panicked state.

“I am now. Thanks for saving me. You’re my hero,” you smile as he lets out a sigh of relief and shakes his head.

“Jus’ doin’ my job, sweetheart. Can’t help it that everyone wants a piece of you. Gotta protect the shining star,” he winks, nearly sending you over the edge of the steps to your trailer.

“Well, you’re pretty great at your job, Miller. Best bodyguard ever,” you flirt as you poke him playfully in the chest.

“Alright, little pop star. Why don’t you go relax for a bit? I’ll be out here, be sure to fight off any more paparazzi parasites,” he smiles while he watches you twist the handle and enter your safe haven.

“Joel?” you call before you close the door.

“Hmm?” he asks as he twists around and faces you with gentle brown eyes.

“Go easy on them.”

He just rolls his eyes and shakes his tousled curls off his sweaty forehead. “Sure thing, darlin’. Alright now, go on. Get in there,” he instructs as he nods to your room.

You huff out and slump your shoulders, pretending like it’s the biggest chore in the world. He ticks his jaw and raises an eyebrow at you that tells you he’s not messing around, so you fully oblige his request. “Alright, alright. I’m going,” you sigh.

“Attagirl,” he chuckles.

Your cheeks burn red as he leaves you with the hottest word before you close the door with a jolt. Attagirl. The word rushes through you, straight to your core where you feel a bit of slick build against your sticky lace. How can a man get you turned on with just one word? Well, it’s Joel Miller, and the man can make you wet with the wink of those pretty brown eyes, but Attagirl was next level. It was borderline porn to your ears.

When you hear the click of the door close you take a second to breathe, leaning up against the sealed door while you flick the lights on and try to calm your racing nerves. You assess your pristine room, taking in the white walls hung with pink fairy lights. The glow from your vanity mirror lights up the little corner where your sparkly makeup sits neatly together. The pink velvet sectional sits up against the middle of the wall where a picture of Marilyn Monroe hangs right above that. Soft pink colors cover the room, and you feel suddenly at ease in the protection of your trailer.

You meander toward the vanity mirror, assessing your perfect makeup that still stays intact on your glowing face. The sparkling pink eyeshadow mixes in with the sharp wings of black eyeliner that frames your soft eyes. Shimmery pink lip gloss coats your plump lips, and the blush stands out against your tanned skin. Your spiral curls flow gently over your shoulders, and your sparkly dress hugs all your curves in the right places.

You suddenly want to be free of your costume, wanting to throw on a pair of cutoff jean shorts and an oversized t-shirt. When you turn your back to the mirror and try to unzip your dress, it gets stuck just a couple inches from the top.

“Oh, come on. Work with me.” You fight the zipper again, tugging with all your might until you grit your teeth together and curse under your breath. This is not what you need right now. You want out of this dress, out of these high heels, out of these smothering tights.

You stomp your heel into the plush carpet, folding your arms across your cleavage as you decipher just what to do. Lacy, your assistant, is tied up in important meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near your little trailer. Your makeup artist is busy helping other performers, so you have no other options. Joel is the only one…

You gulp, take a long look at your flushed cheeks just thinking of having Joel Miller unzip your dress. It’s harmless, really, but not if he’s doing it. That would only lead to one thing. Giving into pure desire, temptation, need.

“Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, “if a show is what he wants, then a show is what he’ll get.”

You tiptoe to the door, hovering your hand over the handle as you take a deep breath and breathe in and out slowly. It’s just a zipper, only a zipper. He could always say no, leave you stranded while you’re stuck in your dress the entire evening. He wouldn’t do that though, leave you helpless while you fight to rip the tight dress off your body. He just wouldn’t allow that. No way.

You take one more deep breath and open the door slowly, slipping your head out as you see Joel standing at the bottom of your trailer steps. You clear your throat and watch him turn his head quickly in your direction, leaving his guard wide open as he assesses your distressed face. “Umm, Joel. Can you do me a favor?”

His eyebrows knit together while his eyes glaze over your body. “What is it, darlin’?” His doe eyes lean into yours, and you can barely muster up any words while he looks at you like that, all caring and deep.

“Well, my zipper got stuck in the back, and I can’t get it down. Do you think you can help?” you ask shyly, your eyes looking up nervously through your long lashes.

“Uhh, where’s Lacy? I can go grab her, let her help ya out.”

“No!” You reach out an arm and grab his wrist tightly, watching his brown eyes widen at your sudden contact on his tanned skin.

“No?” he asks confused, his breath picking up underneath his dark t-shirt.

“I mean, she’s in meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near the trailer. And I’m awfully uncomfortable in this tight dress. Do you think you can just come in really quick and help?”

He gulps down a breath, his heartbeat picking up incredibly fast while he looks into your gorgeous eyes. How can he say no to that? He can’t, so he won’t. He rakes a hand slowly through his greying scruff and nods your way.

“‘Course I’ll help, sweetheart. C’mon then.” He places a hand gently on your lower back and leads you into the glowing lights of the trailer, letting the door close with a bang as he guides you to the middle of the room.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he asks nicely as you oblige and turn your back toward him.

He looks at your undone zipper, sees where it’s stuck in the pink fabric of the dress. Of course he’d be the only one around to help you, of all things a fucking stuck zipper on you. He has no resistance when it comes to you, he just can’t say no to that pretty face of yours.

“Zipper’s jus’ caught in the fabric. Should just take a little tugging,” he says with gritted teeth, pulling on the zipper while he holds the silky fabric tight with his other hand.

After a few seconds of fighting the dress, he gets it free of the catching fabric. He slowly unzips the back of your sparkling dress, going ever so slowly as if not to make a single sound. The only sounds he hears are your quick breaths, the beating of his own racing heart, and the noise of tugging you free of the suffocating, tight dress.

He watches it stop at the end of your curvy hips, catching the way your skin seems to shimmer as your flawless skin comes into his line of vision. He sees the way the dress falls open in the back, your skin begging to be touched, to be stroked as it beckons him closer and closer until he’s hovering above your hot skin.

He knows he shouldn’t linger, shouldn’t hover over the glow of your exposed skin, but it’s almost sinful not to touch you when the glitter of your undertones calls directly to him. He gives in, stealing just a touch as he rubs his fingers slowly down your spine.

You squirm beneath his touch, tingling sensations running wildly down your skin with each touch he takes from you. You ravish in it, holding your breath while he takes his time dipping across the curve of your back.

He leans into you, ghosting his lips across your neckline while he breathes you in deep. He smells the vanilla scent of your perfume, lilac breezing through your soft curls, and can even smell the cherry flavor of your glittery lip gloss. You must taste so good, he can already feel your soft lips against his while he takes his other hand and moves your curls over the left side of your shoulder.

You turn your head back gradually, exposing the veins in your slender neck while it gives him access to dip his lips against the curve of your neck. “Joel,” you whisper out, your insides shaking as the hand on your back sinks down to the curve of your hip.

He can’t respond, too lost in your delicious scent while his hand dances against the silk of your tempting skin. He’s a bad man, putting himself in this vulnerable position where he’s alone with you, with your zipper completely down and your dress barely holding itself against your perfect body.

He should go back outside, stay away from your midnight eyes, your luscious locks, your sweet smelling perfume, but he can’t. He just can’t. He’d rather die than to leave you alone now, untouched, not taken care of. He’s your bodyguard, he’s paid to take care of you. So he will, in every way that he can. He’ll have his way with you. If your zipper can be fixed then who's to say that ache between your legs can’t, too?

He spins you around, your chest pressed flush against his while he slowly backs you up against the wall, caging you in with his strong arms while he breathes in your sweet vanilla scent that drives him wild. He sees the cleavage practically spilling from the top of your undone dress, wants to fucking rip it to shreds until there’s nothing left but your glowing skin under the tips of his pressing fingers.

He takes a hand and pushes back a strand of curls behind your ear, lingering his thick fingers along your jawline while you breathe in the woodsy mahogany smell, his expensive cologne that you could lather yourself in just to smell like him. He’s so close that he could lean down and press his lips to yours, so close that you could twist your fingers through those lush curls that you so desperately want to meld your fingers to.

You’ve never been this close to him before, to where you can see just how pretty and clear his brown flecked eyes are. You’re driving yourself into dangerous territory, but you don’t care. No one’s here to stop you from making any mistakes, and Joel is not a mistake.

He hovers over you, dragging his lips against your jawline and stopping at the shell of your ear, lingering there while his meaty hands dig into the curve of your hips. “We shouldn’t… I shouldn’t,” he says with gritted teeth, painfully dragging out the words while he tickles the shell of your ear with his plush lips.

“Why not?” you whine pathetically as you place a hand under his shirt, making him jump while you graze over the happy trail that leads underneath his jeans. It makes a deep groan slip from his throat.

“I’m twice your age. You jus’ turned twenty-five, I’m pushing forty-five. I’m your bodyguard. I should be more respectful, shouldn’t give in to a pretty thing like you,” he murmurs as he feels his cock hardening beneath the denim of his jeans.

“I don’t care that you’re older or that you’re my bodyguard,” you mumble as your fingers tug the leather belt free from his jeans.

He groans, licking the edge of your ear while he fights to find an ounce of control in his desperate body. He finds none. “We shouldn’t, darlin’. It’d be irresponsible on my part. What if the paparazzi found out? They’d turn the headlines into a hell of a mess. Hell, your publicist would kill me,” he says defeatedly while his hands stay glued to your hips.

“I don’t care what my publicist says, I don’t care about the paparazzi. I know what I want, Joel. I know you want it, too. Just as much as I do.”

He groans against you, doing his best to resist you, but he can’t. He’s a weak man for you, and he’ll give in with the snap of your fingers. He’s got no fight left in him, he’s all yours. “Are you sure, sweetheart? You want this? Want me?”

You grip tighter to his jeans, dragging his hips flush against yours as you feel the swell of his cock through the denim. He’s so fucking big, and you haven’t even seen him yet. “Yes, Joel. Please. Want you, only you,” you stifle out a moan as his lips trail against your neck, gently nipping and sucking against your sensitive areas while his hands ghost over the curve of your breasts.

“God, I can’t say no to you, gorgeous. You don’t even know what you do to me every time I see you up on that stage, singin’ with that angelic voice of yours, dancin’ around all flirtatiously while you make me so fuckin’ hard beneath my jeans.”

You groan at his filthy words, letting him spread your legs while one of his parts your legs wider. One hand trailing up your inner thigh while his other slowly pulls against the top of your pink dress. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do this for so long, how much I’ve wanted to press my face between those thick thighs of yours,” he groans as he trails his lips against the cleavage of your dress.

“Probably just as long as I’ve wanted you to,” you pant out as he tugs at the hem of your dress.

“Yeah, s’that right?” he teases, dragging his teeth lower down your breasts.

“Mhm. Joel, fuck. Taste me, touch me, fuck me,” you beg as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Fuck you, hmm? That what you want?” he teases while he slowly pulls your dress free, hearing it drop to the floor when all you’re left in is your shorts and tights.

“Yes, please. Want you, need you to touch me. Do it, Joel. Please,” you whine, twisting your fingers around the curls around the base of his neck.

He chuckles out, sucking in a breath as he fully obliges your request. “Alright, pretty pop star. If that’s what you want, how can I say no to you?”

He leaves you with no warning, cupping one breast in his large palm while he sucks on your other one, running his tongue in circles until your nipples are pebbled and swollen beneath his tongue, his mouth, his hands. He does the same to the other one, languidly sliding his tongue over the pebbled bud while he massages your breasts with his calloused fingers.

He bathes in your moans, making certain to get you all worked up where he knows you’re already soaking beneath your panties. That’s where he wants you wet, begging for him to touch you.

“Joel,” you whine, feeling his fingers fall free from your pebbled breasts.

“I know, baby. I know. Don’t worry, gonna take care of my girl.”

Before you can speak, he cups your face and sinks his plush lips against the gloss of yours, melding his mouth to yours while he tastes the cherry flavor of your lip gloss. You part your lips for him, inviting him in as you feel him lick feverishly into your mouth. Your tongues dance together in unison, allowing him to tangle his with yours while he revels in your pretty moans against his hungry mouth. He’s starving for you, absolutely famished while he takes and takes from you, letting his tongue explore the entirety of your open mouth. If you taste this good, just think how absolutely divine you must be between your legs.

His hands roam down to your shorts, slipping his fingers inside the waistband and tugging them free of your skin. You step out of your high heels, kick the pink shorts aside and allow his mouth to break free of yours. You pant tirelessly, watching him kneel between your legs as he starts to run his fingers up and down your thighs.

He looks up at you, his eyes becoming dark pits that consume him whole. He’s feral for you, and he won’t stop till he has every last drop from you. “You have another pair of these?” he asks, nodding to your tights.

“I’ve got a million pairs,” you say out of breath.

He smirks up at you before he tears into the flesh of your tights, ripping them to shreds while one of his large hands meets the lace of your panties. “What about these, hmm? Gonna miss these?”

You shake your head, unable to get a word out as you swallow a whine in the back of your throat. “No?” he asks all deep and gravelly while his thumb traces against the edge of your lace, sliding down to put some pressure between your drenched lips.

You throw your head back and whine, begging him to continue on. “No, Joel. Just take them off, please. Need you,” you breathe out desperately.

“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.” He takes no time, ripping into the seam of your panties as you watch him split them in half, throwing them in a pile on the floor while his eyes blow wide when he takes in the bare sight of you.

He groans to himself, dragging a finger through your wet arousal, parting you in the middle as he hears the sloshing sounds come from his thumb spreading the wetness all across your dripping core. He inhales you, reveling in the pretty noises you make while he takes his time exploring you, gathering the slick on his calloused fingers as he burns the sight of your messy pussy in the back of his brain.

“Shit, baby. Already so fuckin’ wet for me. This what I do to you, hmm? You always this wet around me?”

“Mhm,” you moan, feeling his fingers pull you apart as more slick pools between your thighs.

“All this for me, goddamn. Ain’t I jus’ the luckiest man alive.” He licks a thick stripe up your core, dragging his tongue to lap up the slick that spills from your insides, making you pant out with need as he makes you come undone. “Don’t worry, baby. Gonna take real good care of this pretty pink pussy. Just sit back, relax, and let me do all the work.”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to breathe, he just dives right in. He takes the flat of his tongue and strokes your folds, working you up and down while he soaks in the sweet taste of you. He hooks one of your pliant legs over his shoulder while you fight to not break already.

He drags his nose through the curls above your mound, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth while he breathes in the sensational musk of your pussy, drinking down your sticky arousal that makes his taste buds come to life. He’s never tasted a pussy this sweet before in his life, never quite experienced the high of such an intoxicating body before. He’s wanted you for so long now, and he never even imagined it’d be this good before.

“Joel,” you moan above him, wrapping your delicate fingers through his messy curls, driving out a deep groan from him by the way you cling to him. He loves the feel of you in his hair, pulling and tugging while you bite your lower lip and moan his name over and over again. It’s like an addictive drug he’s prescribed to, and he needs more, wants more of you.

He slips two digits into your drenched hole, filling you so full while his thick fingers curl and hit that spongy area that makes you see bright lights flash before your eyes. He revels in your moans, eliciting more with every touch and curl of his fingers, with every feverish lick to your messy center.

“Yeah? You like that, baby? Feel good?” Joel purrs while he watches you fall apart beneath his fingers.

“So good, Joel. Want you to - ahhh,” you whine as he pulls your aching bundle of nerves back into his warm mouth, releasing it with a pop as more slick covers his knuckles.

“Mmm, s’that right, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me? C’mon baby girl, go on and soak me,” he purrs.

You feel the white hot sensation taking over, feel his long fingers curl up to hit that spot again and again while he pulls your aching clit back into his mouth. And it feels so fucking good that you just can’t hold on any longer. “Joel, I’m gonna… fuck, I’m coming,” you whine as you release your pent up energy, soaking his knuckles while he works you nice and slow, licking at your core as the slick builds on his tongue, drinking you down till he soothes that aching need in his throat.

You come down slowly, feeling your body go through the tingling sensations that make you feel so alive. You’ve never had it this good before, not before Joel. He’s going to be the end of your demise.

You look down at him between your legs, fingers still curled inside your core while he slowly drags them out of you with a groan from your lips. He pops the digits into his mouth, sucking the sweet release while he moans your name. He looks fucking wrecked, his hair all tousled and messy, wide eyes blown out to black pits that want to devour you whole. The way he’s looking at you makes you think he’s not done with you, and he’s not. Oh no, he’s just getting started.

“Such a good girl for me,” he purrs, sliding his calloused fingers up to your hips while he unhooks your leg from his shoulder. “I’m not done with you yet, baby. Now, c’mere.”

He throws you over his shoulder, a surprised gasp coming from your lips as he takes you over to the velvet couch. He drops you on your hands and knees, not giving you a moment to breathe while he situates himself behind you and spreads your legs wide.

He takes a few seconds to admire your glistening core, sitting back on his heels as he rakes a hand slowly over his greying scruff, taking in the absolute beauty that sits before him. He’s never seen a sight like this that he goes head over heels for, sliding his tongue between his teeth as he whispers how fucking perfect you are.

He groans your name, dragging his thumb up and down your sticky folds while one hand spreads your cheeks wide. He says your name repeatedly, taking in the sight of you in front of him. He thinks you’re so fucking pretty, all messy and dripping just for him. He wants to just slip your scent, your taste into his own cologne, mix the two together until he can only smell you on his body.

He licks at your core, spreading you wide while he devours you whole. He pulls at your glistening clit, languidly circling the swollen bud that calls sinfully to him. He wants to give you all the orgasms, drink you down till you have nothing left to give, curl his fingers inside your heated core, work you over till the only thing you can say is his name through your pretty moans.

He thrives in the musk of you, the taste of your cherry lips, the sweet saltiness of your warm cum. If he could give it a name, he’d call you his special jasmine flower, known to be the sweetest, most fragrant flower in the world. That’s what you are to him. The rarest flower that ever came into his reach, his life.

He licks against your slick folds, working his fingers in and out of your delicious cunt, slurping on your sensitive mound while he drowns it in his own drool, lusting after you until you writhe beneath him and give him another mind blowing orgasm.

“Joel, I’m coming, I’m coming,” you cry, spilling yourself all over his digits and inside his heated mouth. He can’t reply, too busy drinking you down as he groans good girl through the taste of you on his large tongue.

He swallows all the slick between your thighs, holding you up together while your legs shake uncontrollably. You may have fallen apart on his tongue twice, but he still wants more. He’s greedy like that when something belongs to him. You’re his as far as he’s concerned now, and he always takes care of what’s his.

“Joel, wanna… wanna…” you stutter tirelessly, out of breath from the insane orgasm he pulled from your body.

“What do ya need, sweetheart? Use your words,” he coaxes, placing a hand gently at the small of your back as he strokes small circles into the heat of your skin.

“Your cock. Let me suck your cock, make you feel good, too,” you whine out, grinding your teeth together as he gently blows on your aching core.

“Not this time, baby. Later. Gotta take care of you first. This time I wanna have my way with you, want your cum dripping down my tongue, making my cock all messy from your sweet release. Wanna bottle you up and make you my own personal brand of whiskey,” he growls as he pulls his t-shirt over his head and frantically slides his jeans and boxers over his feet, disposing the sweaty material on the ground.

He hisses as he spreads the precum over his shaft, pumping himself a couple times before he grabs your hips and scoots you back, stifling a moan from your mouth as he plunges his massive cock into your throbbing pussy.

“Oh, shit. Joel,” you whine, filling the room with your sweet incantations while he fills you so full of him.

“Yeah? You like that, dirty girl? Takin’ this cock so good, squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he growls, pulling your hair back as your head snaps up, his mouth meeting yours as he licks feverishly inside, swallowing your moans while he continues his frantic thrusts into your weeping pussy.

He pulls out from you, throwing you on your back while he hooks your legs over his shoulders, rutting back inside you as his cock gets covered in your sticky slick. You throw your arms around his neck while he finds your mouth again, licking inside, moaning your name on the tip of his tongue as he speeds up his thrusts inside you.

The sounds are obscene, the wet smacking noises of his hard cock drilling inside your drenched pussy reverberating off the glow of the pristine walls. He releases his mouth from yours, leaning back to take in the gorgeous view that’s you. You’re splayed all over the couch, your perky breasts bouncing up and down with every thrust of his cock, your eyes all glossed over and fucked out while he takes you nice and slow. He thinks you’re a vision, a full on masterpiece that deserves to be displayed in an art gallery, your mouth making that pretty O shape while you chant his name angelically.

“Know you’re close, baby. Squeezin’ me so tight, feels so good,” he moans through the grit of his teeth.

“Joel, I’m gonna… gonna… fuck,” you whine as you feel that all too familiar white hot sensation rush through your entire body.

“Oh yeah, baby. That’s it. Such a good fuckin’ girl. Go on now, soak this cock,” he coaxes.

He watches you fall apart beneath him, beautiful, glossy eyes rolling back as you drag your manicured nails down his back, giving him the prettiest moans as you clench around him and release your cum all down his quivering cock.

“Good girl,” he praises, talking you through your intense orgasm as he quickens the strokes inside you, reaching heights you never could without him, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. It feels so fucking good, and you just gave him the best three orgasms of your life. You’re exhausted, but you need him to finish. You need him inside you.

Sweat drips off his forehead, ending in his tousled curls as he bares his teeth, barely able to hold on any longer. “Baby, I’m about to cum. I can’t hold on much longer. Where do you want me, sweetheart? Where do you want me to spill?”

“Inside Joel, paint me white inside. Cum inside my pussy, please,” you beg.

He moans as he calls your name, giving you a couple more thrusts before he paints the insides of your thighs white with hot ropes of cum, throwing his head back as he revels in the ecstasy of filling you up with his seed, claiming you as his own.

He pulls out and twists you around, collapsing on his back against the velvet couch while you fall into his chest, his meaty hands holding you tight around the waist while you both come down from your intense orgasmic high. The room smells like sex and sweat, hints of vanilla and cherry flavored lips lingering around the room. It smells like heaven, Joel’s heaven.

Through the sounds of rushed breaths and tired bodies, he reaches up and hooks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, lingering his calloused fingers against your jawline while he assesses the beautiful starlights in your eyes. He thinks you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid eyes on, and now you’re all his.

You look at him just the same, memorizing the flecks of dark honey that make up his bright eyes, dragging your fingertips through his salt-and-pepper scruff, letting your other hand glide through his messy tousled curls. He may be your bodyguard who works for you, but now he’s so much more than that. He’s yours, and you’ll never let him go now.

“Still think this was a bad idea?” you ask with a raised brow, challenging him to say anything but yes.

“Too late for asking me that, sweetheart. I changed my mind. You’re jus’ what I needed,” he smiles, the flecks of his eyes shimmering amber as your own eyes sparkle with bliss.

“Glad you came around,” you giggle as he drags his fingers up and down your jawline softly.

“All ‘cause of a fuckin’ broken zipper. You know I can’t stop now, sweetheart? One taste of you and now I’m hooked. Afraid I can’t let you go now.”

You lean into his chest, giving him your best dreamy smile as you trace the ends of a tousled greying curl. “Then don’t. Be mine, Joel.”

“I’m all yours, sweetheart. All yours,” he whispers before he cups your face and brings your head down, meeting the plush of his lips as he kisses you nice and slow.

You melt into him, parting your lips so he can slot his way in, tangling his tongue with yours as you taste yourself in his mouth. You stay like that for minutes, getting lost in his soft touch, his musk, his dreamy eyes. You never want to leave this trailer, never want to be parted from Joel. The only question is, how will you ever be able to keep your hands off him in public?

You lean your head into the crevice of his neck, nestling up to his soft scruff that smells like him. You sigh and tangle your fingers with his while he holds you close to his side. “Guess we won’t see any more performances tonight?”

“I don’t know, baby,” he chuckles underneath you. “Think we need a shower and some food. Maybe take you for round two afterwards. But it’s up to you. We can either stay here or go watch more of the sets tonight. Whatever you want.”

You think it over, but ultimately decide on his first offer. “Mmm, I think I’ll go with the first pick. Rather be here with you, in your arms, where it feels right.”

He sighs, lingering a soft kiss on your cheek as he pushes back a falling curl. “Okay, beautiful. That’s what we’ll do then. You want pepperoni pizza? That’s your favorite, right?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Sounds perfect.”

He chuckles, the chocolate flecks glistening in his pretty eyes. He looks so dreamy, almost unreal that he's underneath you, his skin glowing from the sight of you. “I’ve wanted you for so long, sweetheart. Can’t believe this is actually happening.”

“I feel the same, Joel. Thought you might’ve caught on sooner with all the flirting I’ve been doing, especially up on stage. I might love getting a crowd pumped up, but there’s nothing more I love than making you blush at the side of the stage.”

He tips his head back and laughs, his voice all deep and gravelly as he flicks his eyes back to you. “Oh, I caught on, darlin’. Figured you were tryin’ to get a reaction out of me, and you did. Now look at us,” he teases, cupping your chin with the palm of his large hand, causing tingles to run down your spine.

“Yeah, just look at us. A pop star and a bodyguard getting off on each other. Thought it’d only happen in my dreams,” you sigh, propping yourself up with your elbow on his sweat covered broad chest.

“Well, baby, it’s real. It happened. Reckon you’re mine now, yeah?”

Your eyes perk up, a huge smile glistening across your shiny lips as you nod your head. “I’m all yours, Joel. As long as you’ll have me.”

“Baby, I ain’t ever gonna let you go now. You’re all mine, and I’m gonna spend my days protectin’ and lovin’ this pretty pop star. That’s what you are, baby. You’re my shining star.”

“And you’re my knight in shining bodyguard,” you giggle.

“Mhm, sure am, doll. And I don’t plan on ever lettin’ you go.”

You fold back into his chest, pressing your lips hungrily against his. Eventually he carries you to the shower, helps wash off all the sweat and slick from earlier, until he takes you to your bed and makes love to you all over again. And it continues throughout the whole night, until both of you are passed out in each other's arms.

This is where you belong, in the arms of your fierce protector, your handsome bodyguard that you’re head over heels for. Your favorite brown eyed keeper.

Tags: @laramc-02 @amyispxnk @sawymredfox @burntheedges @vivian-pascal

@littlevenicebitch69 @keylimebeag @msjarvis @akah565 @milla-frenchy

@aurorawritestoescape @alltheirdamn

#joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel x female reader #joel the last of us #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #tlou fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #bodyguard!Joel #joel miller one shot #protective joel

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luvyeni · 7 months ago

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❛THE SINNER AND THE SIN❜ ( l. heeseung )

p. badboy!heeseung x fem!reader w. 4.7k+

— 𖦹 warnings. corruption kink, drug usages, virginity loss, unprotected sex, oral ( f. receiving )

authors note. this was supposed to be a short drabble but oh well ,🤷🏽‍♀️— 𖦹 ( heeseung never really liked church until he met you ) !

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

lee heeseung didn’t want a lot of things— he didn’t want to get up and go to school in the morning, or work with his day on the weekends to “keep him out of trouble” — even though that didn’t stop him from sneaking out in the middle of the night to smoke and drink with his friends

he also didn’t want to go to church with his family on sundays — well at first he didn’t, those people didn’t like him, and he didn’t care, the feeling was mutual— but then he met you, and suddenly he was ready for church every sunday; of course he never ended up staying, getting a few glimpse of you, getting up and leaving out the back where his friends waited with beer and other substances for them to try.

“the new pastors daughter? really?” his friends would laugh at him. “at least the last pastors daughter would give blowjobs to anyone who’d look at her.” jake said. “but her, look at her bro.” he’d just roll his eyes, chewing down on his lip ring as he watched you run to your next class; your long skirt flowing behind you, clutching your books as you maneuvered your way through the halls. “she’s running to class and we still have 10 minutes left and it’s gym class.” heeseung smiled to himself, the funniest thing about that is you didn’t even participate in the class, sitting on the bleachers watching everyone else.

heeseung didn’t see you that day; sunghoon suggesting they leave school to go get high at his house — but he knew he’d see you on sunday, even it was only for a few minutes.

“you know my cousin runs a camp for boys like him.” heeseung rolled his eyes at the older man in front of him and his mother. “have him fixed in no time, those scandalous tattoos and the unholy lip gone; all that dark make up as well, make him a good and respected boy, ready for marriage.” his mother couldn’t do anything but laugh awkwardly, something she always did when anyone questioned his ways. “i’ll get you the number at the end of the service.”

“put your jacket on.” his dad said. “its 70 degrees outside, and 80 in here.” he scoffed. “yeah well you should’ve thought about that before messing your skin up with all that scribble.” he said as the music started, they stood up. “you’ll sneak out in about 10 minutes anyway, for now don’t disrespect the lord with that garbage on your arm.” he threw the jacket over his arms annoyed. “thank you.”

10 minutes in and he still hadn’t seen you yet; normally you’re sitting right in front with your mother, legs covered by a blanket, hiding your legs that he'd gotten a peak of a few times before you were quickly covered up by your mother; he was sure she knew he was looking at you, of course she didn’t want her daughter being gawked at, especially by a boy like him.

his phone rang out, some people turned their heads, realizing who it was, shaking there heads before turning back. “do you mind?” his mom whispered. he took his phone out; reading the message from jay. ‘are you done staring at your girlfriend? get your ass on, jake is losing his mind without his weed.’

he tucked his phone away; standing up. his parents don’t even look at him, they’re used to this; guess he'll see you in school. walking out of place, about to make his way out the back. “you can go out the front you know?” a voice made him stop; a voice he’d only heard from afar until now. “you always go out the back, but the front is right there, they can’t keep you here, that would be kidnapping.”

he turned around facing you; your white blouse covered in red and wet. “my sister spilled her juice on me.” Your soft voice calmed him. “my favorite shirt too.” you mumbled to yourself, he smiled to himself, he was about to say something when the back door swung open. “hyung.” jake’s voice rang throughout the hallway. “hurry the fuck up, the beers are getting cold.”

your eyes widened; ready to turn and walk the other way— he was gonna kill jake. “wait.” he called out, you stopped mid walk. “here.” you turned around and he was shucking his jacket off, handing it to you. “to cover up your shirt, your shirt is white and it’s see through.” he watched your arms fly up to your chest, covering yourself, he chuckled; extending his arm out— he’d already seen it. “th-thank yo-you.” you said meekly, grabbing the jacket. “i-i’ll return it tomorrow.”

he nodded, a door swinging open again — this time it was the door to the church. “yn!” you heard your mother gasp. “mother.” you said. “yn get over here this instance.” you turned to the boy apologetically, your mother looked at the boy with disgust in her eyes, he scoffed under his breath. “see you around pinky.” he said, your eyes widened as he turned to walk out the back— your bra was pink. “what were you doing out here?” she asked. “and with that boy?” you shook your head. “nothing mother, just trying to get the stain out the shirt like you said.” you showed her the jacket. “he let me borrow this, that’s it.” You starred at the ground. “you can’t wear this, what would people think?” she exclaimed. “i have nothing else.”

“here.” she took her sweater off, handing it to you. “you are to give that boy his jacket back tomorrow and never speak to him again, you understand?” you nodded. “good, now let’s go listen to the rest of your fathers sermon.” she held your lower back, guiding you back to your seats, you held the jacket in your hand, the cute boy who you always watched leave the church; the boy you’ve watched since you moved here— he gave you his jacket.

“so?” jake slammed his locker shut. “was i wrong and is little church girl a freak?” jay rolled his eyes at the boy. “this is why we tell you not to smoke before school.” jake shrugged. “just asking a question, she looked pretty flustered yesterday.” heeseung frowned. “yeah cause she was soaked.” jake began to cheer— the people in the hall just trying to get to class, looking at the chaos the boy was causing— everyone knew where his mind went. “not like that you idiot, her shirt was soaked.” The boy high out of his mind let out a oh; the kids in the hall.

“i didn’t even get a chance to talk to her, dumbass over there ruined it and her mother walked out.” heeseung grumbled. “i gave her my jacket though so she should be coming around soon.” sunghoon spoke up. “that’s if her parents didn’t make her burn it, thinking it was cursed with some demon.” The group of boy erupted into a fit of laughter. “shut up.”

you sat your things down at your desk; you always chose to sit in the back by yourself; you preferred it that way. “hello pinky.” heeseung sat down next to you with a smirk. “wh-what are you doing?” you stuttered, he never came to first period, you started to forget he was in this class. “wanted to see what was so special about the back seat.” he shrugged. “its nice back here, might have to sit back here for now on.” he tilted his head. “that okay pinky?” you nodded, unable to speak, afraid of what would come out.

“i-i ha-have your jacket.” you said. “it-it’s in my locker, i can give it to you after school.” you could barely look him in the eye, he liked that, gave him a sense of power. “okay.” he smiled, the bell ringing, he stood up, your eyes following his tattooed arms. “whe-where are you going, class is starting, your not staying?” your eyes wide with curiosity, you looked so cute starring up at him.

“oh im not staying.” he said, watching your lips form a pout. “oh.” he smiled, did you want him to stay? “don’t be too upset baby, i just came to see you, i’ll see you later for my jacket.” your mind short circuited upon hearing him call you baby; he chuckled, watching you stumble over your words. “i’ll come find you yeah?” he said, you nodded. “good, i’ll see you then baby, enjoy your class.” you gave him a small wave as he left out the class, smiling to yourself, like a little girl given a new doll— a cute and tall and seriously tatted doll.

he had it all planned out— after a five minute curse out from jake for ruining his plans for “a girl who wouldn’t give you the time of day” — his words; heeseung ignore the boy, he finally got away from them, making his way back to the school, just in time to make it to the final bell, standing by your locker, waiting for you. “he-heeseung.”

“told you i’d be back didn’t i?” you shyly nodded, opening your locker. “h-here.” you pulled out his jacket, handing it to him. “you keep it, give it back to me when i drop you off.” Your eyes widened. “ta-take me home?” you shook your head. “my sister is home, if i show up with you she’ll tell my parents.” you frowned. “im not allowed to be with boys alone, especially.” you trailed off. “boys like me?” you nodded. “im sorry.”

“don’t be baby.” he said. “if i was your dad i wouldn’t want my precious baby being dropped off by a guy like me.” he said, lifting your head up by your chin looking you in the eyes. “he’s a smart man baby.” you felt your knees about to give out with the way he was looking at you. “w-will i see you at church?” he chuckled. “will you speak to me?” he kissed your cheek, your eyes widened. “don’t worry baby i’ll see you.” he let your chin go. “don’t miss your bus baby.” he said, closing your locker for you. “th-thank you.” you walked away, cheeks burning, his jacket still in your hand.

“you disobeyed me child.” your mother opened the door as you got ready for church. “what do you mean?” she opened the closet, pulling out the jacket you were meant to give back to heeseung days ago. “i strictly told you to return him his jacket and then you were to leave him alone.” she tossed the jacket to the floor, you picked it up, holding it to your chest. “what is this you’ve been accepting rides from him?”

it's true, after that day heeseung ask you again; and you agreed only if he dropped you off a few blocks from where you lived. “hanseuls mother saw you get out of his car, how long did you think you could hide this?” she shouted. “he’s a nice boy mother.” you said. “nice boy?” she scoffed. “you see the way he looks, hear the way he acts, he’s no good and he’s damned to hell.”

“i like him mama!” you shouted, it was the first time you shouted at your mother; it felt good. “has he done something to you, to make you act like this, has he tainted your soul?” you were frustrated. “mama are you asking if we had sex?” she gasped. “no we didn’t , he’s respectful.” You’ve never seen your mothers eyes widened. “what has gotten into you child? wait until your father hears of this.”

“nothing has gotten into me mother, but im 18, i am old enough to make these decisions on my own.” you said. “i’ll be off to college soon and i know nothing about anything, it’s like im stuck in a kids mind.” You said. “yn i- im not a child anymore.” you clutched heeseungs jacket. “stop treating me like one.”

the ride to the church was what you expect, your parents yelling at how you were pretty much damned to hell along with heeseung; that he was gonna lead you down a path of horrible decisions , to which you just starred out the window, blocking out the screaming until you reached the church.

you saw heeseung sitting outside the church inside his car, a crowed of people walking into the church— now it was your chance. “there he is im gonna get out and tell that degenerate to leave my daughter alone.” not if you could stop it; as soon as he stopped, you quickly open the door, running across the parking lot ignoring your mother and fathers calls.

you opened the door to heeseungs car; his eyes widened. “yn.” he saw you heavy breathing. “whats- please drive.” you looked out the window, your dad angrily approaching the car. “uh shit, he found out.” you nodded, he started the car. “please drive now.” your dad was about to knock on the window when heeseung sped off, leaving a cloud of dust in the wind. “shit.”

“my parents are gonna kill me.” he said driving down the street, you could no longer see the church. “screw my parents, your parents are gonna kill me.” he turned to you— you were starring out the window, much calmer than before; he smiled. “i can roll the window down if you want.” you nodded, he rolled the window down, the warm air hitting your skin, the sun shining down on your body. “it feels nice.”

“so little runaway, where to?” he said, you shrugged. “you ran away without a plan? rookie move pinky.” He teased. “it was my first time, and its blue today.” he smiled as your eyes widened; you clearly didn’t mean to tell him that. “good to know.” he said. “well you’ve already ran away and according to your dad committed 666 sins, what’s a few more?” he said. “lets go see my friends.” he did a u-turn, placing his hand on your thigh. “this okay with you?” you nodded, so he kept it.

you pulled up to a house, much bigger than yours. “jays parents are loaded and are hardly home.” he said. “this is where you always sneak off to when you should be in school?” he laughed. “little miss runaway judging me now.” you pouted. “cheer up pup, we’re gonna have fun i promise.”

“put that on.” he pointed to his jacket that you’ve been holding this time. “why?” you asked. “because i told you to.” He looked down at your outfit, your pretty white dress, these guys get off on girls like you for fun and he’ll be damned if he loses you to jay or worse— jake. “fine.” you put the jacket on. “how do i look?”

how did he tell you that you wearing his clothes made him want to take you back to his car and fuck you until the block knew his name. “you look cute.” he grabbed your hand. “will your friends like me?” you looked at him. “maybe a little too much, it kinda makes me not want to bring you in.” he said, holding your chin with his other hand. “you’re too cute for those guys to even look at.” he kissed your cheek, you giggled in response. “stop it.”

heeseung didn’t bother knocking on the door, just walking in. “his house is nice.” you said. “don’t tell him that, he hates it.” you nodded as he guided you throughout the house. “we usually hang out downstairs in his basement.” he said opening another door. “yo , jay!” he shouted. “down here heeseung.” he turned to you, fixing his jacket so it covered you. “they’re harmless most of the time, don’t worry.” he went first, still clutching your hand as you went down the steps.

“how was church?” you heard them laughing, the smell of marijuana hitting your nose. “what chapter did you learn today?” heeseung rolled his eyes. “dumbasses look up from the weed.” they turned to you, falling silent— you squeezed heeseungs hand, squeezing it. “hi.” you smiled, waving.

“yall see her too right, this not a bad trip.” all the boys turned to the boy who was laid across the couch in the fully done basement. “shut up jake.” heeseung guided you to the single couch. “sit.” he tapped his lap. “o-on your lap?” he hummed. “yeah.” he said. “or you could sit next to jake.” The boy smiled, obviously high. “i don’t bite.” jay laughed. “you just bit sunghoon.” heeseung pulled you by your waist, you yelp falling into his lap.

“yn would you like something to drink?” jay said. “jay has sodas upstairs, i can go get you one.” jake said attempting to stand. “is he okay?” you questioned. “jake? yeah, he’s under the influence baby, don’t worry about.” heeseung said, the grip on your waist becoming more tighter. “baby?” jake said. “shut up jake, don’t worry yn i’ll go get you a soda.” jay stood up, walking up the steps.

“so how did heeseung get you here, it is sunday after all?” sunghoon asked. “you are here on your own will right?” you laughed, heeseung scoffed. “she’s the one who ran away.” jake laughed. “you two are like romeo and juliet.” sunghoon shook his head in disappointment. “heeseung.” jake handed him off what you obviously knew was marijuana, that he’d been smoking and a beer. “no it’s fine, im good.”

“what your girlfriend is here and you’re trying to be a good boy.” jake teased. “jake.” jay warned coming back down the steps. “here yn i bought you a few.” you thanked him, opening one, taking a sip. “heeseung at least have a drink.” you turned to the boy. “you don’t have to hide anything, just do what you normally do.”

“you sure, i still have to drive you home.” he said. “you two can stay here for the night, heeseung normally does that anyway.” jay said, you smiled thanking him. “well then i don’t mind, my parents will have my head anyway.” he laughed, jake held out his hand containing the lit up substance. “you know you want you.”

so he did, letting himself get comfortable after a few puffs and a few beers; he was much more laid back, his legs were more spread apartment; man spreading— his hands low on your waist. “so yn are you and heeseung dating?” jake asked. “uh— yeah we are.” heeseung sat up straight, now his hard chest was pressed against your back. “chill bro, she’s all yours.” jake took a sip of his drink. “you got any pretty church friends?”

“jake put the weed down, it’s time you sobered up a bit.” jake slurred his words. “but im sleeping here.” he pouted. “doesn’t mean i want to take care of you.” you smiled, watching the boys fight the other to stop drinking and to take a sip of water. “whats so funny baby?” you felt heeseung rest his chin in between your shoulder blades. “your friends are really funny.”

“you think?” you didn’t notice to shift in his voice. “you okay?” you asked, feeling him continuously shift in his seat. “am i too heavy i can go sit on the couch.” you let out a gasp, feeling his arm wrap around your waist. “don’t move.” you finally heard the deepening of his voice. “you feel good.”

heeseung could normally control himself, but between the weed and alcohol running through his blood— the fact you’d been moving around in his lap for the past 3 hours, it was safe to say he was fully rock hard. “ar-are you getting sleepy?” you stuttered, you knew what he wanted, and you were ready— you wanted him to take your virginity. “heeseung knows where the guest bedroom is.” jay said.

“lets go to bed hee.” you stood up. “okay.” he stood up, still holding your hand. “its nice to meet you yn.” jake said, sunghoon sitting on top him trying to force water into the drunk boys mouth. “yeah good night.” the boy huffed, fighting on top of the other. “night.”

you made it to the room, opening the door. “come.” heeseung flopped down on the bed. “come lay with me.” he whispered; you kicked your shoes off, shredded yourself of his jacket; joining him in bed, sitting down. “no baby.” he chuckled, pulling you down next to him. “i want you to lay with me.”

his face was so close to yours, laying on yourside; his cheeks red from the beer, eyes matching from the weed. “so cute baby.” he fingers traced your jaw. “so cute, you ran to me today.” he whispered. “i like you heeseung.” you held his hand as he caressed your cheek. “oh baby i like you too, so much.” His breath hot against your face, making your breath hitch. “you wanna kiss baby?” you nodded, he closed the small gap.

his lips felt dry against your soft ones, but it didn’t bother you— especially with the way his hands was slowly pulling up your dress, you hips desperately trying to chase his fingers. “slow down baby.” he laughed against your lips. “i’ll give you whatever you want.” he finally found your panties, his fingers touching your clothed cunt. “just let me do everything.”

he was now on top of you, his knee in between your legs. “let me take care of this pussy.” you whimpered at his words. “heeseung.” his hand stroked your cunt. “gonna eat you.” he pushed your dress above your waist. “lets get you out of these, they’re all ruined anyway.” he pulled your panties down, almost moaning at your untouched cunt. “fuck baby, you’re so tiny down there.”

“st-stop it.” you covered your face. “don’t hide this pretty face.” he removed your hands, kissing your cheek. “i wanna see your face when i make you cum for the first time on my tongue.” soon he was face to face with your cunt. “you smell nice baby.” you let out a soft moan as he kissed your cunt. “heeseung.”

he held your thighs open, his nose brushing against your clit. “fuck heeseung!” you moaned out. “language baby.” he chuckled, licking a fat strip against your heat. “my baby doesn’t use bad language.” he pinched your thighs, diving right into your cunt, eating you up like he’d never tasted anything in his life.

heeseung was in heaven, he was no longer intoxicated because of the alcohol or the drugs— it was you; you were consuming his every being, your sweet cunt dripping into his mouth, your soft moans, your tiny hands pawing into the bed sheets desperate to hold something as he sucked on your poor clit. “heeseung it feels funny.” you moaned out. “stop please.”

he forced himself away from your heat. “that means you’re gonna cum baby.” he kissed the inside of your thighs. “don’t you wanna cum on my tongue.” you whimpered out as he kitty licked your clit, the feeling soon returning. “i-i feel it again.” you moaned, he hummed out in approval. “heeseung im gonna cum.”

the feeling was euphoric, your body felt like it was floating, your legs wrapping around his head as you came, he had to undo your legs from his head, as much as he wanted to die in between your cunt, he wanted to be first one to fuck you. “that felt good baby?”

you nodded, he took his shirt off tossing it across the room. “you want something better, you want my cock baby?” you nodded, he lifted your dress over your head, leaving you in your blue bra. “gonna take this off okay.” he unhooked the bra, letting it fall. “so pretty.” his cock twitching in anticipation, desperate to fuck you. “pretty tits.”

he toyed with your nipples, squeezing your mounds, using his other hand to unbuckle his belt. “you wanna see it baby?” you nodded. “ye-yes please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for, never been fucked before, you were ready to feel it. “wanna feel it inside.”

he groaned at your words. “fuck baby you don’t even now what you’re asking for.” he quickly pulling his pants off, letting his cock free, your eyes widened, you’d never seen one before, but he was definitely big and thick. “don’t be scared baby, touch it baby.” he guided your hands down his abs, groaning as you made contact with his length. “fuck baby, wrap your hand around it.” You obeyed. “good girl, now stroke it some.”

it felt heavy in your hands, he held the himself up on the headboard as you stroked him. “fu-fuck baby if you don’t stop im gonna cum.” he cursed. “let me put it in.” you let him go, he positioned himself in between again, letting his cock slap against your stomach. “its so big.” he smirked. “yeah?” he grabbed the base of his shaft. “gonna take all of it?”

he pressed his leaking tip at your entrance, you whimpered. “don’t be scared baby.” he slowly pushed inside you. “go-gonna be gentle.” his voice quivered as he forced himself not to stuff you full of his cock— he didn’t want to hurt you, but your cunt was sucking him in. “fuck baby your pussy is swallowing my cock.”

it felt uncomfortable the sudden intrusion, his cock slowly filling you up. “heeseung.” you whimpered. “i know baby, i know.” he pushed the last few inches in. “its in baby, you took me all.” he kissed your forehead. “good job baby.” his voice quivering due to your cunt squeezing his cock like crazy. “fuck baby, calm down my dick feels like its gonna break.” he grunted. “m'gonna move now.”

he slowly moved , dragging his cock along your walls. “fuck.” he cursed. “i love this cunt already.” he groaned. “so glad i was the first one to feel you.” he started to move his hips. “you feeling good baby.”

“so-so big.” You moaned. “c-can feel it in my st-stomach.” fuck— you were gonna kill him. “pl-please go faster.” he picked up the pace, the sounds from your cunt getting louder, right along with your moans. “don’t cover your mouth, let them hear you.” He grabbed your wrist. “let them hear how i fuck you.” you moaned out louder as he sped up. “i feel you tightening around me baby.” he hummed. “you gonna cum for me?”

you nodded. “good girl cum all over my cock, make a mess for me.” you let a few gasp, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came. “oh fuck.” he moaned. “you pushed me out when you were cumming.”

he rubbed his shaft along your swollen pussy , trying reach his high. “fuck, fuck baby gonna cum all over this tiny pussy.” he moaned. “fuck you’re mine now, no else can feel this pussy, it’s mine; gonna mold it to only take my cock.” you felt another high cumming, your cunt twitching. “you cumming again?” you nodded. “fuck me too, cum for me, one last time.”

Your legs shook as you came, he cursed stroking his cock until he came, coating your cunt in his seed. “there you go baby -fuck- cum for me.” cum dripping from the tip of his cock.

“fuck you’re so pretty; my pretty pretty baby.”

“fuck my parents are gonna kill me.” he said the next evening. “if the cops already aren’t waiting for me at your house to arrest me for kidnapping.” you pouted, you wish you could stay at jays with him and his friends. “don’t be sad baby.” he said. “just gonna drop you off, i’ll see you tomorrow i promise.” he said. “i don’t even have a phone to call you.” You said, your parents didn’t allow you to have one.

“take mines, i have another.” he said. “really?” he nodded pulling up to the street right before yours. “i’ll call you tonight alright baby?” he grabbed your face. “answer when i call.” he roughly kissed you, this kiss much more passionate, full of fire. “okay heeseung.” You got out the car. “you better answer my call baby.” He blew you one last kiss before watching you run down the block.

speeding back to his house so he can quickly deal with his parents, and then locking himself in his room so he spend the night talking to you.

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen fic #heeseung x reader #heeseung x female reader #heeseung scenarios #lee heeseung smut #heeseung fanfic #lee heeseung hard thoughts #lee heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung smut

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wroteclassicaly · 9 months ago

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18+

When your best-friend Steve Harrington asks you to hold his fleshlight for him.

It wasn’t really something that either of you planned on happening. But then it just did. Steve had been pent up from work all day from typical annoying patrons, smart mouthed jocks from the high school, that were freshmen when he was a senior (tenfold karma, Harrington), and Keith’s particular way of criticizing his every move out of some form of nerdy revenge. You could count on one hand the times that Steve had to bail out of your two person movie nights on Fridays (Saturdays were for dates and Sundays were for hanging with the rest of the parties and running kids around), and tonight happened to be one of those occurrences. Usually, it would be for self-care or whatever reason he needed to spend alone, but when he’d barely shed his leather jacket upon entering his house, dusting snow off of his boots — he was about to crawl out of his skin by the time his massive palm was wrapped around the receiver, thumb strangled by its cord.

He was… off? And seconds after he’d cancelled without much reason, the line went dead. You wanted to give him space, especially because he usually called back to tell you goodnight. But after being unable to sit still and finish a generous portion of the large pepperoni pizza you’d ordered the two of you, you were grabbing your keys for the journey over to his place.

~*~

It didn’t take but five minutes before you reached Steve’s house, pulling in behind his familiar car. You dangle the copy - made spare from your pointer finger, trekking your way up to the door and letting yourself in, wiping at your wind-whipped, wet eyes. You know he’s not on the first floor, its entirety dark and a little cool. So you toss your coat and keys onto the small table beside the entryway, kicking off your boots to join his on the cheesy welcome mat, and you make your way to the second floor landing to his bedroom. Seeing a buttery glow spill out from the crack in his doorway, you’d proceeded, only to be met with a sight that only appeared in your late night fantasies… and pretty much your every waking thought.

Steve is facing his mattress, sheets tousled and clothing pooled beside him, stood on the left side of his bed, naked and glistening in the perspiration of teasing, observing his massive length as he edges himself, moving the toy slowly over his cock. You know what it is, you’ve seen it in magazines and stores, in some porn. A fleshlight, they call it. Your brain goes through a million thoughts at a couple seconds to spare.

Why doesn’t he have someone here to do this with? He can get a date?

Is he okay? Obviously he’s very okay.

Holy fuck… he’s big.

Holy fuck… he’s beautiful.

A little more than usual, waiting on the summer sun to tan his freckle and mole spattered skin. His hair has grown longer, curling at the nape, his shoulder blades and biceps defined from a regular regime. And that ass, the way it flexes and is perfectly plump, connecting to those hairy thighs and big feet, his own toes curling when he twists, a wet squelch coming from the faux cunt. There’s beautiful chestnut curls scattered across him sternum and connecting to a trail that surrounds his base and those full, heavy, balls. That cock… thick, barely able to be pushed back into the toy, his fingers having to peel back its soft pink layers to help ease the slick way, decorated in a vein that matches the one running along his forearm

And you must make some sort of noise, because your lips part to let in a gasp of air, causing his body to twist in a sudden defensive stance, clenching the toy so tight with a ‘caught’ pose. You go to move and the door spills open completely, slamming back into his dresser and shaking old sports trophies. You’re panting, seeking out the words to apologize, Steve is wincing from how hard he still is, attempting to cover his modesty. But the air shifts in the room and you gain a boldness, a restlessness that won’t be satiated, nor a conscience satisfied if you don’t ask.

“Can I help you?” A customer service line from working at Scoops with him. But it comes naturally.

Steve, biting his lip, disheveled — he nods. And it’s happening. A tickling ease, a line crossed.

“C’mhere.” He’s waving with his opposite hand. His ribcage expands as he gulps in lungfuls of air.

You’re at his side shortly, shyly. “W-what do you need me to do?”

His spare hand pushes back through his hair, amber gaze gone to a midnight sky, teeth milky white, defined jawline covered in stubble, and a perfect nose. His voice is raspy when he lets you know what he needs.

“Go get on my bed, lay back for me. Please?”

A fucking gentleman.

All of your clothes feel too tight, smothering you as you lay back on his bed, his pillow immediately invading you. Your hands are unsure of where to go, but he approaches slowly, kneeling his way into kneeling by your feet. “I’m gonna… Can I use this between your legs, honey? You don’t have to do anything, just let me do all the work.” He motions to the toy and you want nothing more, suddenly offered the world.

It’s your turn to say it now. “C’mhere.”

He’s using that enriched tendon covered forearm to prop himself up beside of your head, slotting right between your knees, his remaining hand wrapped so tightly around the toy that his skin is pulled taunt over his knuckles. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, releases it, licks it, and then he’s asking, “Can I?”

“Go. Do what you need to do. I’m right here, Steve.”

If you thought the toy was loud before, the sound of him working his lengthy girth through its walls right in front of you now — it’s surround sound. You’re watching, unable to help it, bones threaten to be dusted to ash from how hard your heart is ramming beneath your breastbone.

“Wanted to come over, but it’s been a shit week, an even shitter day. And I just needed to —“

“— Release some tension, right? I get it, I do it too. I have a cock that goes… I —“ you stop your horny rambling, face feeling too much warmed.

Steve’s face scrunches, teeth gritting, and he twists the toy until slowing it almost completely. “Tell me what you do. You fuck yourself with it, right? When everything is too much and not enough? Fuck, honey.”

He doesn’t verbalize, but you don’t either, simply accept the toy and hold it against your denim covered cunt, leaving Steve’s hands free to hold on either side of you, his nose nudging yours as he leans down — here, present. You copy his earlier motions, using the toy to glide along his length as he thrusts into it with a new focussed vigor. “That’s it. You feel so good, honey. Workin’ me so right.”

“I’m soaking — fucking — wet for you, Steve. Just so you know.”

His hips stutter and his nose finds its way into your eyelashes, cheek pressing into your own. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum into this thing, and I want —“

“— You want what, Steve?” You hold your breath.

He answers without fear or pause. “You.”

// Eat me paragraph //

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oddinary4bts · 6 months ago

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Chasing Cars | ch 2 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: mentions of The Incident, Jungkook is a menace. curses, mentions of a character getting cheated on, alcohol, mentions of ghosting, explicit content: sex toy (vibrator), they do it in a public space (an empty lab), degradation, sir, thigh grinding, dom!Hobi, he's a bit of a dick, pussy slapping, breast/nipple play, jerking off, praise, fingering, ass slapping, protected sex, anal fingering, mentions of mouth fucking, masturbation (female and male), OC has some dirty little fantasies about her older brother's best friend, squirting, she overhears Jungkook watching porn

☆word count: 10.2k

☆a/n: new week new chapter!! enjoy reading everyone <3 thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Sunday, January 20th

You wake up with a start, heart beating out of your chest. It takes you a moment to collect yourself until you realize that you were actually woken up by a sound. It takes you a moment longer before you understand that the sound is Jungkook cursing.

You frown, glancing towards his wall in the hopes that he’ll shut up, and it’s almost like he hears you: he dwindles into silence after a few seconds, and you’re stuck wondering why he was cursing like that in the first place. You don’t think you’ll have the answer anytime soon, so you lie back down – when did you even sit up?

You shut your eyes, though it seems sleep will evade you again. Indeed, your focus is zeroed in on the sounds coming from Jungkook’s room, probably of him getting ready for work. It also makes you realize that you really do need to go to the bathroom, so you decide to head there before actually going back to sleep.

You get out of the bathroom in time with Jungkook getting out of his room, and he stops in the doorway, eyes widening as he watches you across the living room. You’re only wearing an oversized sweater, and you don’t miss the way his gaze dips to your legs once before returning to your face.

Only then does he break into a smirk, leaning against the door as he folds his arms on his chest. “Long night?” he asks teasingly.

You know you’ve flushed red when he chuckles darkly. “Not really, no,” you choke out.

“You’re cute when you blush, peach,” he jokes, glancing towards your room. “He’s still in there?”

You don’t know if it’s because of the way your face falls, but Jungkook’s smirk dies down, concern moving on his features instead. You hate it, so you quickly say, “He left last night, you didn’t hear?”

His tongue plays with his piercing for a moment. “Not gonna lie, I put earbuds in the moment I started hearing you guys.”

Your blush deepens, and you’d facepalm if the gesture in and of itself wasn’t so embarrassing. Instead, you look away from him, glancing at the front door as you replay Hoseok leaving in your mind. “Sorry,” you apologize.

You don’t even know what for. Your goal was to make Jungkook uncomfortable, so why do you feel like shit now that he’s talking to you about it?

“It’s fine,” he says, pushing up from the door frame as he walks towards the kitchen. “Though I didn’t think you were like that, peach.”

You furrow your brows, and you can’t help but follow him into the kitchen. “What do you mean?”

He’s got his head in the fridge, and he straightens, holding a protein shake in his hands. He takes a sip of it, eyes finding yours, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he kicks the fridge door shut.

“Paper-thin walls, remember?”

You purse your lips, cocking your head to the side. “Thought you said you put earbuds on?”

His tongue pokes his cheek, and he looks away from you, chuckling in disbelief. When he remains silent, you spy his ear turning pink, and you hold in a smirk.

“I did,” he says. “A little too late.”

“Are you saying you listened to us?” you let out, gasping in fake outrage.

“Peach.” His doe eyes slide back to you, and they pierce right into your soul as your gazes connect. “I know you’ve been listening to me. If you were just trying to make me jealous, you can say so.”

Your mouth falls open, and every word in the dictionary flies out the window as you just stare at him, embarrassment slowly creeping in. Very slowly, its fingers licking up your spine until they’re clutching your heart.

“Why would I want to make you jealous?” you ask, voice suddenly far less confident and a lot smaller.

He takes another sip. “You tell me.”

You don’t know what to tell him. All that you know is that you wish last night never happened, and you wish Jungkook would stop looking at you. He looks effortlessly good, even so early in the morning, and really, it’s unfair.

Unfair that you’re stuck living with him for months without Taehyung being here.

When he understands that you’re not going to say anything else, Jungkook shrugs, glancing at the time on his phone. He meets your startled gaze again, before saying, “I have to head to work.” He pauses, tongue playing with his piercing and then continues, “If you don’t want me having sex here, it’d be fair if you didn’t have it either.”

You nod once, and when he walks towards you, you quickly step out of the way. It makes him laugh and he stops right in front of you, head tilted down. His hair isn’t styled back this morning, and it falls in his eyes, hiding their innocence from you.

Because, for some reason, you’ve always thought he has innocent eyes. You know better than to think his soul is innocent, though.

“Unless you’d like me to keep doing it?” he asks, voice low and husky. It makes your spine tingle, especially as he adds, “You sure sounded like you liked it last time.”

So he was aware of the Incident. You flush furiously crimson, and you refuse to meet his gaze. But when one of his fingers touches your chin ever so lightly to make you tilt your head back, you’re too weak to resist.

“Don’t be embarrassed, peach,” he purrs. “I was pretty turned on myself last night.”

Your lips part as your gaze meets his, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart to your mouth once.

“I won’t do it again,” you say, voice shaking a little.

It clearly isn’t what Jungkook wanted you to say because he frowns, taking a step away from you. If he’s aware that he’s got your heart racing in your chest, he doesn’t let it show.

“Noted,” he answers curtly, and he walks out of the kitchen without saying anything else.

You don’t move, a trembling hand going over your chest as if it’ll calm down the beats of your heart. Evidently, it doesn’t do anything, and you listen to Jungkook as he puts a coat on, before going out the door.

You think you weren’t breathing until the front door shuts behind him, and even then, you’re not sure you’re breathing at all. It takes everything in you to be able to walk back to your room, and you sit on your bed, eyes darting to your phone.

The screen is lit up, and you quickly grab it to see you received a couple of texts while you were sleeping, and another one just now. That last one is from Hoseok, and you immediately open the notification to see what he sent.

[9:02 am] Hobi: hey, sorry for last night. I feel like a dick for leaving like that.. any chance I can make it up to u today?

You purse your lips, right as relief washes through you. Because no matter how much you agree with the fact that you two shouldn’t do feelings, his leaving so quickly made you feel used. It’s also a good distraction from what just happened with Jungkook, which you reckon you need.

[9:04 am] You: no worries I get it. What do u wanna do

You turn off your phone, grabbing your clothes to take a quick shower. Mostly because you don’t want to text him too quickly, but also because you haven’t showered since before the party yesterday, and you usually always shower before going to bed.

You comb your hair when you get out of the shower, wrapping it in a clean towel before heading back to your room. Even then, you don’t touch your phone, instead busying yourself with putting your dirty clothes away in a hamper. You plop down on your bed, thoughts going back to the conversation with Jungkook, and you feel a coil tightening at the bottom of your stomach.

Because you’re only now realizing that he was hitting on you. He was clearly hitting on you, in his own sick and twisted way. And the worst part is, just thinking about it makes you feel turned on…

You can’t wait for Taehyung to be back from his semester abroad.

Thursday, January 24th

Your biochemistry class is boring. Nabi is dozing off next to you, and you took a couple of pictures already that you shared in the group chat you now have.

Indeed, you ended up hanging out with Hoseok, Namjoon, Yoongi, Nabi and Ria on Sunday morning, getting brunch together, and for convenience Hoseok created a group chat.

It’s been lively since then, with everyone sending their share of memes and funny pictures. Except Yoongi – Yoongi seems like he’s a ghost in the conversation, except for the laughing reacts that he’s put on some of the memes. The picture of Nabi quickly gains you a lot of laughing emojis, and Namjoon sends,

[11:24 am] Joonie: Yah she should pay attention if she wants good grades!

You laugh-react to Namjoon’s message but don’t say anything, though you know that Nabi is going to have to talk about it for the next fifty days. You then try to focus on the class, watching the minutes go by on the clock by the door more than anything. You’re struggling to stay awake, eyes heavy with sleep, but you manage to make it through the end of class without fully falling asleep. When the professor finally dismisses the class, you shake Nabi awake, laughing as you notice she’s drooled on the desk.

“Gosh,” you say, pointing at it. “Who were you dreaming of?”

Nabi blinks, a little confused, but her cheeks still turn red. “No one.”

You gather your things as you get up, throwing her a no-bullshit look. She ignores you, shrugging her shoulders like the little angel that she is, and then you make your way to the cafeteria, Nabi in tow. You meet with Ria, who’s finished her classes for the day – you’re unlucky, you still have another one in the afternoon. You sit together, chatting about everything and nothing, the conversation slowly inching towards Namjoon. You’re not surprised, and you tune it out as you work on a lab report.

“Hobi!” Ria yells happily, motioning at someone.

As much as you and Hoseok decided to be friends, you still feel a little awkward as he makes his way towards you, sitting next to Nabi across from you. “How are you girls doing?” he asks, but his eyes linger on you.

“Fantastic,” Nabi answers. “Though, not looking forward to the genetics class this afternoon.”

“Come on.” Hoseok laughs, shaking his head. “That’s the easiest class of the first year.”

“Still boring,” Nabi counters. “I don’t know how I’ll stay awake.”

“Bitch,” you let out, chuckling. “You were sleeping all morning.”

She shrugs her shoulders innocently, like she had in the class a moment ago. “Didn’t sleep last night.”

Hoseok looks down at the table, a knowing look painting his features, and Ria narrows her gaze at Nabi.

“Why?” she asks. “You left the library before Y/n and I did.”

Nabi purses her lips, cheeks tinting pink. Hoseok still sports the knowing smirk, and you furrow your brows.

Did something happen between them?

“I just couldn’t sleep,” Nabi answers carefully.

At that, Hoseok snorts, finally looking towards her. “I know someone else that couldn’t sleep last night.”

Now, Nabi turns crimson.

“Did something happen between you guys?” you blurt.

Hoseok looks startled, and Nabi bursts out laughing. “What the fuck?” she says.

“Namjoon was speaking to someone on the phone all night.”

Hoseok’s input has your eyes widen, quite at the same time as Ria replies, “His girlfriend, I presume?”

It is disapproving, and awkwardness fills the space between you all. Nabi’s eyes drop to the table, ashamed. “I mean… he was just helping with some homework.”

Ria scoffs. “So that’s what you do when I’m not at the dorm?”

Indeed, Ria ended up coming over to your place, mostly because she didn’t want you to walk home alone so late after your trip to the library. She slept in Taehyung’s bed and went home right when you woke up to shower and change before her class.

“It was nothing!” Nabi insists. “Just talking.”

Ria rolls her eyes, before getting up and grabbing her stuff. “Whatever.”

She storms away, and you look at her disappearing form, gaze wide, before looking back at Nabi and Hoseok. Hoseok looks like he wishes to disappear through the floor, and Nabi is rubbing a hand on her forehead.

You know exactly what happened. Ria was cheated on in her last relationship, and needless to say, it’s fucked her up a little.

“Just talking?” you repeat.

Nabi meets your gaze, clearly looking for salvation. “I promise, nothing happened.”

Hoseok clears his throat, and both of you look towards him. “Namjoon and his girlfriend broke up last weekend.”

Nabi looks far more surprised than you, if that’s possible. Clearly, Namjoon didn’t tell her.

“They did?”

Hoseok nods, sparing you a glance before he continues, “It’s been a long time coming. They’ve been long distance for over a year, and… yeah.”

“Oh,” Nabi voices. Her eyes drop to the table, where her half-eaten salad is still waiting for her. “I should find Ria and tell her.”

She nods once as if she needs to convince herself, and then she quickly puts her stuff away. It dawns on you that you’re soon going to be left alone with Hoseok, and you try to meet Nabi’s gaze, try to find an excuse as to why you should go with her. But you reckon she and Ria probably need to speak about it without you, for the sake of their friendship.

Nabi waves goodbye when she’s done picking up her stuff, and then she’s walking away, following in Ria’s previous footsteps until she’s out of the cafeteria.

There’s a moment of awkward silence, and you focus on your laptop screen as if it’s going to help, but it offers no salvation. Especially not as Hoseok is looking at you over the screen, eyes going a little dark as his features turn somber.

You gulp before meeting his gaze. “What’s up?”

He wets his lips, glancing at the seats vacated by your friends. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh,” you let out. “It’s okay, it’s whatever.”

He nods once, and as your attention returns to your computer, he fishes a sandwich out of his tote bag. He starts eating, and you fear the heavy silence is going to make you crazy, especially as you can feel his eyes on you while you type away.

“Everything okay?” you ask, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Want to skip genetics?” he answers, voice lower than you expected it to be.

For a reason unknown, it has your insides turning white hot.

“I shouldn’t.”

He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “Suit yourself.”

You entirely thought he was going to argue, so you can’t help but furrow your brows as you meet his gaze. “What?”

He sits back, tilting his head to the side as he surveys you. As he remains silent, you feel yourself heating up even more. The danger in his eyes is enticing, and you reckon you probably have enough time before class to find a quiet place around campus.

“The class is in forty-five minutes,” you innocently say.

Hoseok grins. “Plenty of time, don’t you think?”

“I haven’t eaten,” you admit, pursing your lips.

“If you sit at the back of the class, no one will care if you eat.”

You know he’s right. And mostly, you know he doesn’t even need to convince you. You’ve been hot and bothered since last Saturday, as you’ve been too scared to use your vibrator again after you realized Jungkook heard you.

So when Hoseok admits he’s got the keys to one of the labs, you don’t hesitate before putting your computer away, following him as he leads the way.

“I’ve never…” you start, and then you laugh awkwardly.

By the time Hoseok says, “You’ve never what?”, you’re out of the cafeteria.

“Never done anything on campus.”

He winks at you. “Glad to know I’ll be the first.”

It makes you roll your eyes as a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but you don’t say anything as he guides you to the elevator. Another student is already waiting in front of it, and she grins at Hoseok as he stops next to her.

“Hoba!” she lets out. “I thought you had the day off today.”

He loosely hugs her before replying. “Yeah, had to come to hand an essay to Professor Evans.”

The girl glances at you. You barely recognize her, though you’re pretty sure you’ve seen her at some parties. She greets you, and you offer her a smile before she turns to Hoseok and they strike up a conversation about said essay.

She’s someone from his class, apparently, and they chat for the whole elevator ride until she exits to head wherever it is that she is going. It leaves you alone with Hoseok, and it takes all of one second before the air fills with tension again, especially as his hand brushes yours.

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes, voice low.

You wet your lips, meeting his dark gaze. “No worries,” you reply.

He nods, and to your surprise, he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. It makes you freeze in place, as his fingers linger on your cheek. His gaze drops to your lips, and if it wasn’t for the elevator dinging, the doors sliding open, you’re convinced he would have kissed you then and there.

Instead, his hand falls to the side, and he struts out of the elevator. You quickly follow him before the doors have time to close, and it takes about another minute before you finally reach the lab.

Hoseok glances around, making sure the hallway is empty before he unlocks the door. He pushes it open for you to walk in, and you enter the cool darkness, eyes sighing in relief.

Indeed, for some reason, you’ve always found the neon lights of the hallway to be too aggressive for your eyes.

The lab is dark, the only light being the one from behind the closed blinds. The door doesn’t have a window, and Hoseok closes it behind him, quickly locking it again. You scan your surroundings – there’s an area with white coats to your left, and to your right there are empty shelves where you imagine students leave their bags when they have a class in this lab. You drop your stuff there, before turning towards Hoseok again.

“Aren’t there cameras in here?” you ask.

He walks towards you, towering over you as he puts his tote bag next to your stuff. “The one that is supposed to film the white coats is dead,” he informs you.

You gulp as one of his long fingers finds your chin. He tilts your head back, before leaning in to press his lips against yours once. He barely kisses you, lips ghosting on your jaw before he aims for your neck. You tilt your head to the side, breath hitching in your throat, but he stills next to your ear.

“How do you know?” you ask breathlessly.

You think you can hear the smirk in his voice when he replies, “Seokjin got in trouble once right here. Someone saw him and his girlfriend come in, but they couldn’t see anything on the cameras so they let him go.”

He lightly tugs at your earlobe. “They haven’t changed the camera since then?”

“No,” Hoseok says, slightly shaking his head. “Or if they have, whoever is behind the security desk has had a couple of shows through the months.”

You let out a breathy sound as he sucks a spot underneath your ear. “Are you saying you’ve fucked some girls here?”

“Maybe?” He pauses to leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck, down to the collar of your shirt. “Is that a problem?”

Not at all. In truth, you don’t give a shit if he’s been with other people. You would assume he was – he’s an attractive man after all. If you were into him for more than just sex, maybe you’d be insulted, but right now, all you can think about is that he’s about to fuck you senseless.

“No,” you finally reply.

His teeth pull at your shirt, and then he straightens. “Come.”

You let him grab your hand, and he pulls you to where the white coats are. He pushes you into a corner, glancing behind him. You can see the camera over his shoulder, and you can only hope that it is indeed dead, because he pushes his knee between your legs as he faces you again.

“You’re such a slut,” he says against your lips. Your eyes close from the sudden proximity, and you await his next words as your insides burn. “Wanting me to fuck you here, where anyone could come in.”

You’d tell him he’s the slut, considering he’s the one that brought you here, but all you can do is grab at his shoulders when he sucks on your lower lip. You moan as his knee pushes further between your legs, thigh pressing against your pussy, and you instinctively grind, looking for some friction on your clit.

Hoseok chuckles darkly, and he straightens again.

“So fucking desperate.” He tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “Should I punish you some more?”

Your mouth is parted as you breathe in and out quickly, eyes a little round. “Why?”

“Have you learned your lesson last weekend?”

You gulp, nodding once.

“Have you?”

“Yes.”

He cocks an eyebrow, clearly waiting for more.

“Yes, sir.”

He smirks, stealing a sudden heated kiss on your lips. You moan as his hands grab at your hips, forcing you to grind on his thigh again. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer, and you feel yourself go weak in the knees as he keeps you going.

“Wait,” you breathe after a moment of you fucking his thigh. He pulls away from where he buried his face in your neck, questions in his eyes. “It hurts with the fabric…” you trail off as he once again cocks an eyebrow.

“And? You think you’ve been good enough for me to take off your clothes?”

“Hobi,” you whine, and he smirks before kissing you again.

He removes his leg from between yours, hands staying on your hips. Yours move from his shoulders to the back of his neck so you can pull him closer, and he pushes you against the wall. He grunts in the kiss when you suck on his tongue, and his fingers find a home over your clothes, right against your pussy. He slaps it, hard, and you moan when his other hand sneaks under your shirt, cupping your breast through your bra.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“Please fuck me.”

He chuckles, nodding his head. “Oh, I’ll fuck you good. You won’t be able to walk to your class after.”

That only turns you on even more, and you think you’re melted lava now, burning bright red as you bubble away under Hoseok’s heated touch. Getting tired of the fabric of your bra, he pushes it up, until your breasts are free and he’s able to pinch your nipple, hard.

You moan, and he pushes his tongue in your mouth, finding yours as he laps at you.

You’re soaking your panties. At this point, you’re convinced you’re also soaking through your pants, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Hoseok has always been able to make you do whatever it is that he wants, and you don’t think it’ll ever change. Last weekend was proof enough of that.

“Take off your pants,” he commands as he steps back.

Your arms fall aimlessly to your side, but you’re quick to comply, unbuttoning your pants as Hoseok busies himself with his belt. He’s quicker than you, hands steadier than yours, and he’s freed his cock from his pants before you have time to push your pants down your legs. He strokes himself under your watchful gaze, head cocked to the side.

“I’m so fucking hard for you,” he comments, and he sounds a little surprised.

As if he didn’t expect the little action between you two to have been enough for him to get there. You reckon you aren’t surprised, especially not as you feel how wet you are once your pants and underwear are off.

The cool air of the lab makes you shiver, but Hoseok barely gives you time to realize it before he pushes a hand between your legs, collecting your juices at your entrance before bringing his fingers to your mouth.

“Taste yourself.”

You obey, and you wrap your lips around his two digits, tongue flicking at the pads. He’s still stroking his dick and, as much as you want to look down, you’re a prisoner of his gaze. All you can do is suck his fingers, hollowing your cheeks as you swirl your tongue around them.

“Good girl,” he says once he’s retrieved his fingers from your mouth.

He lets go of his dick as he searches through his pocket for his wallet. He takes it out, finding a condom. He rips the package as your hand wraps around the tip of his cock, thumb smearing the precum all around the head. He hisses but lets you do it, especially as you start stroking him, trying to copy his previous motions.

You jerk him off for a moment, and he pushes your shirt up enough so that he’s able to wrap his lips around your nipple, sucking hard. It’s your turn to hiss, though his tongue soothes the sting as he swirls it around your nipple before he moves to your other breast.

You rest your head against the wall, trying to focus on jerking him off, but when he dips two fingers in you, arching them to rub at the sweet spot inside of you, you grip him tight.

“Fuck,” he curses as he pulls away, and his fingers leave you empty. They move to retrieve the condom from the package, and he’s quick to roll it on his dick. “Turn around,” he orders.

You bite at your lip, nodding once before you do so. He grabs your hips and pulls them back before he pushes on your upper back until you’re bent, one arm resting against a shelf you find under the white coats.

Hoseok teases your entrance with his fingers again before slipping them in. He finger-fucks you for a while, adding scissoring motions to spread you wide open as you pant from the ministrations. You know he’s getting you ready for his cock, even though you reckon it’s useless.

Indeed, you’re soaked, the perspective of fucking in a public space having made you hornier than you usually are. Indeed, you think you’re already close, especially as he pushes in and out quickly, fingers rubbing you expertly.

You clench around him, and he smacks your ass with one hand. “You like that?”

“Fuck me,” you whine again, begging more than anything.

“Yes, baby,” he says as he massages your ass. “I’m going to fuck you good.”

His fingers leave you empty, and he holds your hips as he aligns himself with your entrance. His cock rubs against your clit, making you see stars before he finally pushes in. He stops with just the tip in, landing another hard slap to your ass.

The sting makes you move back, and you impale yourself on him until his dick reaches deep inside of you, splitting you wide open. He grunts, fingers digging into the supple skin of your hip, and you moan as he hits the bottom of your pussy.

“Fuck,” he curses. “You want to fuck yourself on me, mmh?”

You don’t reply, instead moving forward before pushing back again. He groans again, but then he holds you in place. When you understand that he wants you to stop, you still, glancing at him. He meets your gaze as one of his hands moves to his mouth, and he spits on his fingers.

You grab the side of the shelf hard, knuckles turning white, as he spreads your ass cheeks open, and he smears his spit on your asshole.

He’s still holding your gaze, and as you say nothing, he pushes his thumb in your ass. It hurts a little, and your eyes flutter shut as you focus on the feeling.

“Safe word?”

You shake your head no, and Hoseok doesn’t need more to start pounding into you, so hard you can’t help the loud moan that falls from your lips. You clench your walls around him, hard, and he takes that as a cue to bring his other hand to your clit. He rubs it with a consistent rhythm that’s making your legs tremble, though he’s pressing a little too hard. You know he’ll get you oversensitive in no time, so you pinch one of your nipples, focusing on that pain to remain afloat.

That’s where your orgasm finds you, a little under a minute later. Crashing against you, you moan a broken sound that probably would have been his name, and the waves of your orgasm wash over you as he keeps fucking you, fingers never faltering on your clit.

As soon as you’re down from the high, you pull his hand away from your clit. “Too sensitive,” you mutter.

He slaps your ass but says nothing as he increases the pace of his thrusts, chasing his own orgasm. It hits him as you clench your walls around him voluntarily, and he grunts loudly as he comes, dick twitching deep inside of you.

For a moment, all that fills the air is the sound of your ragged breaths, and it takes you both a while before you’re back in your bodies, coming down from the high of sex. Hoseok pulls out of you, both his dick and his thumb, and he discards the condom, tying it tightly. You put your clothes back on, shakily, as you’re still reeling from the oversensitivity. You run your hands through your hair, making sure it’s not too much of a mess before facing him.

“Damn,” you say once you’re both standing straight, gaze meeting.

Hoseok laughs. “Yeah.”

“Now I have a class to run to.”

He nods. “You do. You think you’ll be okay?”

The way he says it is cocky, and for some reason, it makes you want him again. He must have noticed, because he smirks, tilting his head to the side.

“I’ll be fine,” you say. “We should…”

“Hang out again?” he supplies as you fall silent.

You nod once. “Sometime this weekend?”

He thinks about it for a time before shaking his head no. “I’m going to visit my parents this weekend so…” he trails off.

“Oh,” you let out, shrugging your shoulders. “Just… text me?”

“In the group chat or…” he teases, and you push him as you roll your eyes. It makes him laugh, yet he still pulls you in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yes, I’ll text you.”

You move out of his embrace, a little embarrassed. “Good.”

He smiles, gently, and it’s so far from what he was just a moment ago, pounding into you, that you think you get whiplash.

Jeong Hoseok has a duality you don’t think you’ll ever understand. And really, it leaves you confused all through your genetics class. Nabi never shows up, which you actually are glad for. Because you’re pretty sure she would have taken one look at you and known you’ve just fucked, and you don’t think you’d be ready to deal with the questioning.

You’ve barely told them about what happened between you and Hoseok last weekend. You don’t see yourself admitting that you’re sleeping with him again. You’re just content with enjoying the friend group, and you don’t want to make things awkward for everyone else. So you’ve been keeping it to yourself, and perhaps that’s why you’ve been feeling so confused.

As you sit in the library later, trying to finish your lab report, you spy Jungkook shelving some books. He doesn’t see you or pretends he hasn’t seen you, and that, most of all, makes you realize one thing.

Hoseok isn’t the one that’s been confusing you at all. It’s been Jungkook, and what he said on Sunday morning, that’s been plaguing your every moment.

No wonder you haven’t said anything to your friends.

Wednesday, February 6th

You hate midterms. They stress you out, obviously, but also the irregular hours make it hard for you to sleep at night, and even harder to follow in your classes. It’s no wonder you end up skipping your afternoon class, heading home to take a well-deserved nap before you study more. Nabi promised to send her notes, considering you’ve sent her the notes of that genetics class she missed a few weeks ago.

It’s a good deal, and you sleep like a rock the moment you get home, face hidden in your pillow. The only downside of taking a nap is, you always feel worse when you wake up. It takes a while for you to shake the grogginess away, so when you wake up around 3:45 pm, you know you’re not going to be able to study right away. Instead, you head to the kitchen, reheating some leftover noodles you find in the fridge.

You’re halfway through your bowl when your phone rings, startling you. You glance at the screen – it’s Taehyung, on a Facetime call at that. Your heart leaps in your chest; you haven’t talked to him since he left, a month ago, except for some texting here and there to make sure that everything was okay.

You pick up the call, and it takes a few seconds before it connects, and your brother’s dumb face appears on the screen. He looks as if he’s lying in bed, or on a couch perhaps. He smiles as soon as he sees you, and you wish you could hug him through the screen.

“Hey!” he says. “How’s America going?”

“It’s cold,” you complain. “Not as great as Paris I assume.”

Taehyung laughs. “Paris is a dream, honestly. You’d love it here.”

“Duh.” You smile wide, slightly shaking your head. “I still can’t believe you just get to spend a whole semester over there.”

“You can if you want to! I’m sure your major also allows it.”

As much as it’d be fun, you don’t think Paris would be your destination. There are a couple of other places in the world that are higher up on your list, though you don’t know if you’d want to study in those places. You’re afraid it’d take the magic away, as you’ve always been too focused on your studies.

Taehyung has never been like this, so you know he’s been enjoying his time over there. And he has – he visited the Louvres last weekend, and he’s eaten so many croissants he’s convinced he’s going to get a French accent soon.

At that, you laugh, before telling him about your time here. Omitting Hoseok, obviously, but mostly omitting how Jungkook has been not so subtly flirting with you. To be fair, you’re pretty sure he was flirting with you before Taehyung left, but he’s been far bolder now. You know the blame is partly on you – after the Incident, and the revelation that he knows about it, you can see why a guy like Jungkook would be attracted.

He told you himself that he was turned on when you were with Hoseok, didn’t he?

“Hello,” Taehyung says. “Are you even listening to me?”

You shake out of your thoughts, apologizing. “Midterms have been fucking with me.”

“Oof,” Taehyung lets out. “I’m lucky my grades here don’t count in my GPA.” He winces, glancing away from the screen before resuming his attention on you. “I think I’m going to tank one of the classes.”

“RIP.”

Before you or your brother have time to say anything else, the front door unlocks. Your eyes snap to it from where you’re sitting on the couch, and Jungkook comes into view, hair ruffled by the wind outside. He catches sight of you, offering you a corner smile that makes you want to roll your eyes as your gaze settles back on your brother.

“Is Jungkook home?” Taehyung asks, loud enough for the mentioned man to look your way.

“Tae!” he lets out enthusiastically, and he kicks his boots off to make his way to your side.

You want to disappear when he sits next to you, close enough for his thigh to press against yours. He’s still clad in his coat, and you cringe at how cold it is as he leans even closer, his face appearing on your phone. “How’s Paris been going?”

“Bro, it’s fucking sick,” Taehyung answers. “They know how to party here.”

Jungkook smirks. “Any good fucks?”

Your head snaps towards Jungkook. “Bruh, why would you ask him that?”

Taehyung laughs, ignoring you. “I’ve been seeing this girl,” he admits. “Haven’t fucked yet but I’d say it’s coming.”

You wince, nose scrunching up in disgust. “Come on, I don’t want to hear about your sex life, Tae.”

“You’re a big girl now, get used to it,” Jungkook jokes.

You glare at him again, and when your eyes move back to Taehyung’s face, he’s got his brows furrowed. You don’t know why, and the expression melts to be replaced by his usual impassive mask, the one you know he uses when he’s trying to not let his emotions show on his face.

“Well, I’ve been dating her, I’m pretty sure I can tell you I’ve been going on dates?” he says, and it sounds like a question.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Kim Taehyung, why are you starting to date someone in Paris? You’re not going to do long distance.”

“She’s from our college too, chill,” he answers, rolling his eyes at you. “She’s in the exchange program.”

That gains your interest, and a smile moves on your lips. “Oh?”

“Oh?” Taehyung echoes.

“Who is she?”

He offers you a secretive smile. “Not telling before things are official.”

Taking you by surprise, Jungkook grabs your phone out of your hands. The sudden contact of his fingers on yours feels electrifying, even though it lasts just a fraction of a second before it’s gone.

“Hey!” you burst out.

“I’m sure you can tell your best friend,” Jungkook says, holding your phone out of your reach, filming his face.

“Jungkook, give me my phone!”

You can hear Taehyung laughing on his side of the line as Jungkook looks at you. “Nah.”

You sit back on the couch, folding your arms on your chest. You clench your jaw, annoyance moving through you, but you don’t say anything else as Taehyung insists that he’d rather wait before telling you. Jungkook, resolute, asks the question again, and you elbow him in the ribs.

“Ow!” he lets out. “What the fuck was that for?”

You roll your eyes. “Give me my phone.” He looks up at the ceiling in annoyance, before handing you the device. “Thank you,” you say sarcastically.

“Just wanted to get you your answer,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders. “But never mind.”

At that he gets up, sauntering away while taking off his coat. You watch him go, far too confused, but Taehyung doesn’t let you think about it for too long. Instead, he says he’s got to go, but that he’s glad you two talked. You tell him to be safe, and then you hang up.

The sudden silence in the living room makes you glance towards the kitchen as you hear Jungkook rummaging in the refrigerator. It takes all but five seconds for him to yell, “Hey, are you eating my noodles?”

Your gaze widens as it falls on the noodles you’ve been eating, forgotten on the coffee table. You were convinced they were yours earlier, but now that Jungkook’s said it…

You jump out of your seat, grabbing them as you head to the kitchen. “Are they yours? I was convinced they were mine.”

He seems pissed, but when you hand him the bowl, he cocks an eyebrow. “You’ve eaten half of them.”

“There’s still plenty left!” you point out. “I’m sorry.”

“Peach,” he says, smirking. “It’s okay, I’ll eat something else.”

The nickname makes your cheeks burn. “No, really, take them.”

He hesitates for a few seconds more before shrugging his shoulders and grabbing the half-eaten bowl. “Thanks.”

You don’t reply, not knowing what to say as he moves back to the living room. Still hungry, you grab some grapes from the fridge before heading to your room, figuring you should study now. You get comfortable at your desk, studying for your next midterm. It goes well for a few hours, but when the sun has long since set, you hear Jungkook opening the front door, greeting someone.

For a moment, you’re afraid he’s invited a girl over, but it turns out to be Jimin. You relax in your chair, continuing to study, eyes growing heavy with every sentence that you read. Luckily enough, you don’t have a morning class tomorrow, having the week off before the midterm to “study”. So you push through, knowing that it doesn’t matter if you go to bed late tonight.

You can’t focus on your laptop anymore when you hear Jungkook cursing at Jimin from the living room. It’s loud, and you only then realize that the TV is on, and they’re clearly playing some game. Just like that, what was left of your concentration flies out of the window, and you get up to go see what they are up to.

Turns out that they are playing Mario Kart, and from the looks of it, Jungkook is losing. He’s leaning towards the TV, elbows resting on his knees as he concentrates, and Jimin has a shit-eating grin on his lips. The latter’s eyes flicker to you for half a second before he resumes his attention on the television.

“Hey,” he greets you, adding your name at the end. “Want to play?”

You move closer so you can see the screen, and you watch as they drive the rainbow road. “I’m supposed to be studying.”

Jungkook curses loudly, and you watch his character fall from the road. You laugh, right as Jimin finishes the race.

“JK, you suck,” Jimin teases.

Jungkook is pouting next to him, half in concentration and half in annoyance, and he looks stupidly cute like this. You hate it, so you resume your attention on the screen to watch him finish in eleventh place, right in front of Princess Peach.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook drawls, and his gaze slides to where you’re standing. It seems he thinks you are salvation because his gaze lights up. He says your name enthusiastically, adding, “My second favourite Kim sibling!”

You purse your lips, furrowing your brows. “Fuck off,” you tell him.

“Can you please go get some beer from the fridge, since you’re standing?” he adds, begs, ignoring you.

He offers you his best impression of puppy eyes, and you want to hate him because, damn, he’s good. Too good, and you shake your head in disapproval, though you still turn around and walk over to the kitchen. You fish two beers out of the fridge and thinking better of it, you grab a third one for yourself. You head back to the living room then, handing the cans to the guys.

“Thank you,” Jimin says, but all Jungkook does is wink at you, a smirk playing on his lips.

It makes something warm blossom in your chest, and as he glances down at your naked legs, the feeling soon trickles down to your core. Indeed, you’re only wearing a pair of pajama shorts, and luckily enough, you’ve been shaving your legs religiously now that you’ve been sleeping with Hoseok again.

Your cheeks flush, and you try to figure out where to sit. Jimin is leaning against the armrest, back propped up against a pillow, and Jungkook is in the middle of the couch, next to the L-shaped part. It only leaves you with the option of sitting next to him, and you clench your jaw, though you still make it to his side.

You sit as far from him as you can, grabbing the blanket you always leave on the back of the couch to hide your legs, lest Jungkook’s gaze burns your skin more.

“You wanna play?” Jungkook asks.

You shake your head no. “Just taking a break from studying.”

“With a beer?”

He sounds disapproving, so you glance at him. “Yeah?”

He snorts, but he doesn’t say anything else as Jimin starts another race. You watch them play, cheering for Jimin even though Jungkook is winning. Jimin, ecstatic, keeps drifting into the wall, but he manages to get a blue shell on the last turn, which he immediately launches at Jungkook.

Jungkook curses loudly again as you giggle with Jimin, watching his character – Wario – spinning on the screen. He still manages to finish the race fourth, with Jimin right behind him.

You’ve been drinking your beer fast, and after the next race, Jimin manages to convince you to play. You choose Princess Peach, obviously, right as Jimin moves away to go to the bathroom.

“Really, Princess Peach?” Jungkook teases, a smirk adorning his lips. “You’re trash with her.”

“The character you choose changes nothing,” you say, glaring at him. “Let me be.”

“Right,” he says, laughing. He leans back into the couch, taking a sip from his beer. “You did earn your nickname after all.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes, before meeting his gaze. “You know I hate that nickname.”

“Hence why I’ll keep using it, peach.”

You punch him in the shoulder, clearly not hard enough to hurt. As a matter of fact, it hurts your hand more than it probably hurts him as your fist collides with his hard shoulder muscles, and you grit your teeth as you sit back in your spot.

“You’re annoying.”

He grins at you, a toothy grin that makes you want to punch him again, in the face this time. “You love it,” he teases.

Before you can say no, Jimin walks out of the bathroom, and the moment is over. You go back to playing, and you end up on a winning streak, which earns you a lot of curses from Jungkook. Right when you’re about to go for a fourth race, Jungkook claiming that this one is going to be his race, Jimin receives a call.

“It’s Sera,” he says as an explanation, and he walks away to take the call in the kitchen, away from you and Jungkook.

Jungkook immediately turns towards you. “Have you been practicing? You were trash last time we played.”

You snort. “I have better things to do with my free time than to practice playing Mario Kart.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you before shaking his head. “Whatever, I’ll beat you in this race.”

“Good luck with that,” you tease. “Didn’t you finish last in the last one?”

To your surprise, he leans towards you. He’s close enough for you to feel his breath fanning on your face, and you hold yours as he offers you a smirk and a cocked eyebrow.

“At least I finished.”

You don’t know what he’s referring to, so you offer him a quizzical look. “What?”

He chuckles, and one of his hands pats your thigh over the blanket. It still burns, and you gulp.

“Pretty sure that guy you’ve been fucking hasn’t made you finish.”

You flush crimson. “Why the fuck would you think that?”

You hope he can’t hear the furious beats of your heart because you’re pretty sure you’re about to go into cardiac arrest.

“Heard you sucking his dick, and then you tell me he left. He didn’t take care of you, did he?”

The way Jungkook is looking at you right now makes you feel new. Seen. As if no one’s ever looked at you that way before.

“I deserved it,” you reply, throat dry. You try swallowing, but it only makes you gulp again.

“Come on, peach. What did you do to deserve that?”

He’s even closer now. Eyes dropping to your lips as you tentatively wet them, and you feel yourself leaning back. Mostly because you think you’re going to explode if you don’t move.

Jeon Jungkook is dangerous for your sanity.

“Ghosted him,” you admit.

That takes Jungkook by surprise. He starts laughing, shaking his head. “You, ghosting someone?”

Luckily enough, as he laughed he sat back in his spot, and you breathe easier with the renewed distance between you.

“Yeah?”

Jungkook chuckles again. “For some reason, I thought you were a hopeless romantic.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, and you both glance towards the kitchen from which Jimin emerges. Jungkook never answers your question as Jimin announces that he’s going to play one last race before he’ll have to leave, and you’re forced to let the conversation go as he starts the race.

This time around, you can’t focus. You keep falling off the track, hands clammy as your mind replays the conversation with Jungkook. As it reminds you of just how Jeon Jungkook’s gaze was burning on you a moment ago, and you drive into a wall on the second turn.

“Fuck,” you curse.

“Distracted?” Jungkook asks, and the smirk tells you enough for you to understand what just happened.

He was trying to distract you. You fume, focusing on the screen with new vigour as you try to pass Jungkook. He notices your intent, but when he laughs, you once again run into a wall, slowing you down enough that you fall back to the tenth position.

When Jungkook passes the finish line first, he cheers loudly, winking your way. You glare at him, and Jimin laughs at the two of you, though he says nothing. You wonder if he’s heard part of your conversation with Jungkook – if he has, you reckon your brother is going to give you shit for it soon. You can only hope that he hasn’t, because as much as you love Taehyung, you don’t want him to be an overbearing asshole.

Jimin leaves, wishing you and Jungkook a good night before disappearing into the soft snowfall outside. You don’t move from the couch, and when Jungkook heads to the kitchen, you put your controller down, stretching as you yawn.

To your surprise, Jungkook comes back with another beer for each of you.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Don’t you still want to play?” he says as he sits next to you, and electricity courses through your blood as you notice he’s closer now.

“Not really,” you admit, yet you still accept the beer that he hands you.

“Mind if I play something else, then?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Nah, go on. I’ll just drink this and go to bed.”

“Tired of me?” he teases, smirking.

You roll your eyes, but don’t reply to that.

“What made you think that I’m a hopeless romantic?” you ask after a few seconds, going back to your previous conversation.

He plays with his piercing, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Have you seen your brother? It wasn’t far-fetched to think you’d be like him.”

He’s not wrong. Taehyung is a romantic, through and through. It’s one of the reasons why he loves Paris so much – the city of love, where he’s himself finding love at the moment, it seems. He’s been that way for as long as you can remember, only having dated a girl once in his life all through high school, splitting because she decided to go to an Ivy League college on the other side of the country.

“Right,” you say.

Jungkook switches games to Smash, not saying anything else. It seems the conversation is over, and you watch him play a match as you sip your beer, slower than the other one. It makes you realize that you don’t usually hang out with Jungkook, and you reckon you have nothing to tell him.

There’s usually always a buffer between the two of you, be it Taehyung or Jimin.

“How have your midterms been going?” he asks all of a sudden, right as you watch his character being thrown out of the screen.

“Huh,” you let out. “It’s been okay,” you admit. “Just stressful, and a lot of studying.”

He glances at your beer. “Sorry for interrupting your studying tonight.”

“Nah, all good,” you reassure him. “I needed a break. I pulled an all-nighter last night.”

He throws you a disapproving look that makes you shrug your shoulders as if to say ‘it’s whatever’. He doesn’t say anything though, waiting until his match ends to speak again.

“You shouldn’t pull all-nighters, they’re bad for your health.”

“It’s fine,” you insist. “I had a midterm this morning, didn’t really have a choice.”

He pulls at his piercing, nodding once. “Fair enough. What are you doing still up though?”

Right on cue, you yawn again. “I’m going to head to bed soon,” you admit. “But I took a nap this afternoon and I always struggle with sleeping after.”

“Pretty sure you’ve got a little friend that can help you with that.”

Your mouth falls open in surprise, but Jungkook’s attention is focused on the screen as another match begins.

“Excuse me?”

“Unless you just use your fingers?” he teases. “How do you touch yourself, peach?”

“Jungkook, shut the fuck up,” you warn.

Though his words have arousal build up inside of you, and you clench your thighs together instinctively.

“Just do whatever you did the other night,” he says, and you know he’s referring to the Incident. “You’ll sleep well after.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “You’re so crass.”

“Yet you’re still sitting next to me.”

You watch his profile, and your eyes fall to the ink on his arm. His forearm flexes as he uses the controller, and you force yourself to look at the screen.

“I’m just finishing my beer.”

He glances at you once, and you think you could drown in the darkness in his eyes. His gaze is gone too fast for you to do just that, but you still feel your pulse racing.

“Relax, peach,” he tells you, voice suddenly husky. It has the opposite effect of making you relax, and you wet your lips as he continues, “Masturbating is only human. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

“Still don’t think I should be discussing that with you,” you say after a few seconds of electric current swimming in your blood.

He chuckles manly. “Fair enough. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

In truth, he did quite the opposite, but you don’t have it in you to tell him. You don’t want to tell him, don’t want to encourage his behaviour when it feels like danger in its purest form.

“All good,” you say, and you’re aware you sound breathless. As a matter of fact, you are breathless, and you know Jungkook heard it too. Know that the look he throws you is filled with lust, sinfully so, and you know you need to leave this room.

He’s your brother’s best friend, after all.

“I’m…” you trail off. He nods once to encourage you to continue, gaze still burning on you even though that means he’s losing his game. “I’m going to go to bed now.”

He glances at your beer. “You’re done with that?”

He’s a little shit. He’s a little shit, and he clearly knows it.

“I’ll finish it in my room.”

His tongue darts out to play with his piercing as his big doe eyes narrow. “Alright. Good night, peach.”

You nod once, and you get up from the couch. The blanket falls from your legs, and you’re all too aware of how he’s looking at you like he’s about to devour you.

“Good night.”

And then you flee, core heated up and heart beating out of your chest. You’re convinced you can feel his gaze boring a hole between your shoulder blades, but you don’t turn around to confirm. You refuse to turn around to confirm, lest you’re never going to be able to make it to your room.

You hate this. Hate that he’s got you hot and bothered too much for you to be able to settle in bed comfortably. Hate that you find yourself seeking your vibrator in your night table.

You only sigh in relief when you’ve got it pressed against your clit through your underwear. And you’ve soaked through your panties already. They’re sticky against you, but you can’t bring yourself to move them to the side. Not for a while, not until you’ve hidden your face in your bed cover to muffle your sounds, if you make any.

No, it takes you a moment before you finally decide to push them to the side, and the direct contact on your clit has you arching your back, stars swimming in the periphery of your vision. You think about Jungkook. Remember the sounds that he makes while he fucks, remember the words that he’s told you.

You remember his big eyes, filled with sudden lust for you. You imagine him murmuring his dangerous words right in your ear, lips moving against you, and the thought of him pushing his dick in you is enough to send you over the edge, vision flashing with white light for so long that you think you’ve gone blind. And then you push the vibrator inside of you, not surprised when it slides right in with how wet you are.

You’re aware of the squelching sounds it makes, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All you can do is imagine being impaled on Jungkook’s dick instead, imagine his inked hand wrapping around your neck as he pounds into you.

In your fantasies, he fucks you even better than Hoseok does. He fucks you into ecstasy, fucks you until you’re high with it, and you go dumb. Until all that’s left is his dick, and it’s no surprise when you muffle a loud moan in the bed cover as you squirt, your juices covering the hand you’re fucking yourself with.

And still, you can’t stop. You turn on your side, hide your face in your pillow as tears swim in your gaze with the intensity of your pleasure. You imagine Jungkook on his side of the wall, imagine him stroking his cock, listening to you choking on Hoseok’s dick, remember him admitting to being turned on by it…

Your other hand moves between your legs, finds your sensitive clit and starts rubbing insistent circles on it, right as another knot starts forming in your lower stomach. You move the vibrator inside of you faster, time your motions with the circles on your clit, and soon enough, a new orgasm finds you, slams into you so hard you think you’ll lose your mind.

Only then are you able to stop, turning off your vibrator and putting it down on the bed next to you, hands shaking slightly. You don’t move for a long time as you swim in the aftereffect of your pleasure, and it takes you a while to decide to go clean up. Clearly, you need a cold shower, but first, you chug what was left of the beer, needing to numb your mind so you can’t be embarrassed by what just happened.

You put your pajama shorts back on, grab a clean pair of underwear and then stop next to the door. You listen to the sounds outside of your room, but it seems Jungkook’s not gaming anymore. So you hesitantly open the door, and when you find the apartment completely dark, you sigh in relief.

You tiptoe towards the bathroom, slowing down in front of Jungkook’s door. There’s a faint red light under his door, coming from the LED lights you know he’s hung in his room, and you wonder what he’s doing in there.

Through the door, you hear some faint feminine moaning and instinctively bite your lips. You only realize you’ve stopped in front of his door when you hear him curse lowly, and then the moaning is interrupted. He’s watching porn. You’re painfully aware that he’s watching porn, jerking off just on the other side of his closed door.

You reckon you will really need the cold shower after all.

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Oooooof these two I swear... how did we like this chapter? Good? Not good? Let me know!!

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