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logaenhowlett · 3 months ago

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MY BEATIN’ HEART BELONGS TO YOU - L.H.

Summary: Logan believed he was sentenced to a life of solitude until he found you - an unexpected dawn promising the sunrise of a love he always deemed impossible. But then again, destiny never was merciful to fools like him.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, All aboard the Fluff Train with scheduled stops at Angst Station, Established relationship, Hurt/Comfort, How I Met Your Mother reference (iykyk), Reader can manipulate electricity

A/N: 5.9k - strap in, gang. Would you believe me if I said all this was inspired by a debate I had with a friend about the implications of 'I want you' vs 'I need you'. The mind works in silly, little ways sometimes. Title creds to Green Day. Enjoy, you lovely people!

MASTERLIST

Gone were the days when nightmares would rouse him from the sanctuary of sleep. Logan couldn't remember the last time he'd awoken in a cold sweat, sheets shredded from fighting invisible monsters, alarm clock glaring an angry red amongst the darkness. No, all that disappeared once you'd made a home within his arms.

It had been about three months, verging on four if anyone was keeping count - and he, most definitely, was - since you'd swept him away in a tide of fondness and pure affection. The shadow of a man who once roamed the mansion now nurtured a newfound lightness in his heart. Logan wasn't perfect, far from it, chosen paths that only led to a labyrinth of despair, but he was right about one thing: you.

And that verdict especially rings true every morning. The tangle of limbs, the soft ebb and flow of sleepy murmurs, the stray kisses grazing warm skin, he wonders how he'd survived so long deprived of such tender pleasures. He's never going back, that much he knows.

His lips trace a lazy line along your neck, lingering a second longer beneath your jaw. There's a chuckle aching to break through at the thought of your sleep-induced irritation - it’s too early, you'd whine each time. And each time, his half-hearted apologies would be long-forgotten as you meet his gaze, a tempest of desire swirling within hazel.

It's amidst the following moments of peace when he's most thankful for the thick walls surrounding the room. The aftermath of your intimate exchanges always leaves him mesmerised, heart racing at the reminder of your touch. His mutation didn't allow for the full effects of alcohol to poison his inhibitions, yet as your smile gleams at him, Logan's sure he's never been more drunk.

"Where're you goin'?"

He's shaken from his musings as you roll away from his embrace, huffing in disbelief when you don't seem to stop. But, the string of complaints dies on his tongue as he watches you slip on the shirt he'd discarded the night before, turning around amused, "What? You wanna stay here all day?"

"Got nowhere to be."

"Correction - you have nowhere to be. I, on the other hand, need to grade those assignments or Jean'll actually explode my brain this time."

Logan hmphs. He'd been looking forward to lounging around this weekend, positively thrilled at the idea of letting the hours simply trickle away in the quiet comfort of your company. However, he's also one too familiar with Jean's intolerance for slacking off and lessons were definitely learned.

"Let her try," he counters meekly.

As you circle the bed to part ways with a chaste kiss, Logan seizes the opportunity to pull you down, pinning you beneath him in one effortless move. His lips capture yours with a deliberate, sensual slowness - the urgency from earlier now completely absent. The feeble protests vanish from your mind as he breaks away, a twinkle of mischief playing on his smile.

His fingers trace the curve of your wrist, hovering over the faint crescent moon inked in black. It was the mark of your soulmate. Of him, he hopes. You'd shown him quite early into the relationship, spending many a night whispering theories and speculations about its meaning. At first, he expressed only timid fascination, a question here and there spurred by gentle curiosity while you rambled on and on. But as his heart began to tether itself to yours, the mark took on a new significance. Every time his gaze fell upon it, his thoughts would spiral from longing and self-doubt, wondering if he was the one destined to share a lifetime with you.

Over the decades he'd been alive, Logan had searched every crevice of his body for his own. In his youth, it was a fleeting thought, brushed aside by the assumption that his healing factor wouldn't allow for these scars. Yet as time passed, he was terrified of waking up to a branded promise - a cruel trick that condemned his soulmate to a life with him. After he met you, those fears were soon eclipsed by a yearning, a desperate hope for a sign of his worthiness. Every day, he lingered by the mirror, gaze sweeping across his reflection, praying for an identical crescent moon to mark his skin.

"Logan." Your laugh draws his attention, "I'm never leaving the bed at this rate."

"Darlin', that's the general idea."

He relents anyway, falling onto his back with a soft grunt as you stand up. The dopey grin you're biting has him narrowing his eyes in suspicion, wondering what goddamn joke popped into your mind. Before he can question it, you straighten your posture and salute, "General Idea."

A look of confusion contorts his features, though he doesn't get anything besides a mumbled response as you leave the room, "Never mind, it's from a show."

A mountain of papers sits perched on your desk illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp, the scratching of your pen punctuating the silence of the classroom as you continue grading your students' assignments. It had been a couple of hours since you left Logan amongst the nest of blankets. And that image only seemed more enticing with each word you read.

"Missed ya."

Speak of the devil.

Except this devil was an angel - you could almost see a halo shimmering around his figure, backlit by the sunlight flooding the hallway. Every time you think you've captured the essence of his allure, he defies your expectations, often with just a simple gesture. And despite the countless compliments and declarations of adoration, Logan still seemed surprised by flattery, his lips always seeking yours to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"I just saw you like - "

"In the shower," he interrupts, smirk widening as he approaches. He leans against the chair, nose brushing against your exposed shoulder.

Something in your brain short-circuits at his words and the casual display of affection. You stammer a little, "You… didn't tell me."

"Oh, that would've worked hm?" Logan spins the chair around, chuckling as he catches your flustered expression, "'M sorry, sweetheart... guess I gotta make it up to ya."

You never thought Logan was a romantic. Yet, time and time again you discover the depths of his boundless capacity for love and companionship. It wasn't just the whispered promises and passionate revelations, but the quiet moments, the stolen glances, the tender touches that speak volumes. Neither of you had uttered those three words yet, though they hang heavy in the air, unspoken but deeply felt.

His hand winds up beneath your shirt, bunching the fabric near your waist as he pulls you closer. Heat, courtesy of the shower, wafts off his skin, a tantalizing sensation that makes your breath hitch. His tongue toys with your lower lip, teasing just enough that you find yourself chasing after him, desperate for more. The laugh he produces, though smug, is also contagious, a sound that never fails to swallow your heart.

Again and again, he'd professed his desire to unravel you by his sheer touch, how your craving for him sets his insides ablaze. And judging by the way your eyes darken, mouth parting almost reflexively, he's got you dancing to his tune like a puppet on a string - and you wouldn't have it any other way.

But he backs off all of a sudden.

A crescendo of footsteps echoes down the hallway and the moment is shattered. Three of your students barge in, out of breath and frazzled as they clutch their assignments. A frown creases Logan's brow, annoyance he's certainly putting no effort to hide has them second-guessing their intrusion until you beckon them in with a warm smile. With a hasty apology, they fumble with their papers, eyes darting between the two of you before rushing out, the door swinging shut.

"We gotta find a place," he grumbles, dipping forward into your neck.

"We already live together."

A sharp click of his tongue, a playful nip to your shoulder, seals his disapproval, "Not enough. Lil' brats interrupt every damn time."

He wasn't wrong in the slightest. The kids did seem to have an uncanny ability to sense the most inopportune times to interfere. Sometimes you joked that it was one of their mutant powers and Logan, with an amused roll of his eyes, would just scoff and agree. You can't help but chuckle, "'Least it wasn't Scott... I think we traumatised him last week."

It was indeed last week when the two of you retreated to the Danger Room. Of course, with the sole and noble intention of honing your defensive tactics. However, the moment you strategically knocked him off his feet, the situation had taken a decidedly different turn. Pinned beneath you, Logan held a look of astonishment that soon morphed into something much more eager. He'd uttered all of two words before your lips slammed against his and whatever hopes you had for training immediately became the least of your worries. That was until somebody walked in.

He huffs a laugh, the memory filling him with satisfaction, "Should've used his fuckin' brain with those sounds you were makin'."

"Oh god, poor Scott," you mumble, embarrassed by the thought.

"Quit sayin' his name." The growl that curls his words leaves goosebumps in its wake. Logan grips your chin, tilting your head back slightly, a slow grin unfurling as his gaze bores into yours.

"I said it twice!" you protest, but it's all in vain. His thumb drags across your lip, silencing your words.

"That's two more than I care for."

It's dark outside by the time he's done with you.

Sugar melts on his tongue, the velvety texture of chocolate dancing across his palate. Logan takes a rather indulgent sip, the steaming liquid warming his throat. Nestled on opposite sides of the window seat, the two of you share a quiet moment accompanied by nothing but pale moonlight. A comforting weight settles on your feet, his hand kneading the stress away with care. Outside, a delicate snowfall paints the mansion's grounds, grass slowly fading away, droplets racing down the windowpane.

Dinner had wound down hours ago. The kids gathered around the living room after, wide-eyed with wonder as the first snow of the season began. Charles eventually ushered them off to bed, Logan had planned to follow suit until your gentle tug derailed his desire to sleep altogether. And as always, there's no world where he'd deny you anything.

He sees you stifle a giggle every now and then, your eyes twinkling with amusement each time he lifts his mug. It was nothing fancy - mostly white, adorned with a line of stockings and, cheekily, the words "Well hung".

It was a present from you a few Christmases ago. He remembers you watching him warily unwrap the box, laughing out of giddiness as he blushed when the implication dawned on him. It's just a silly gift, you'd reassured, not pressuring him to even keep it. Yet, since then, it remained a permanent fixture on his bedside table. During restless nights, he'd reach for the familiar mug, seeking solace in the kitchen to drink away the looming shadows of insomnia.

It wasn't until your first night together that you saw it again after all those years, carefully placed and by far, the cleanest thing on his table. Logan ducked his head sheepishly before confessing just how much he treasured the sentiment. In a lifetime of solitude, someone had spared a second to think about him, even for a simple gag gift. And that thought warmed his heart a little on especially hard days.

"You're a child," he chides as you smile, rolling his eyes.

You scoff under your breath, "Oh, just cause you're a hundred years old."

"Hundred and sixty," he corrects, grabbing your foot mid-air before you can nudge his thigh. There's a brief pause as he places the mug aside, a wicked grin splitting his lips. Laughter fills the air as you squirm and wriggle away, quickly understanding the look behind his eyes. But Logan moves faster. His hands trail their way to your sides, drawing squeals of protest as he tickles you.

Seconds later, he backs off, satisfied by your reaction. Shifting his weight, he settles on top of you with a gentle press. As he lays against your chest, humming softly in contentment, the soothing caress of your fingers through his hair lulls him into a state of relaxation. The world simply fades away, replaced by the warmth of your embrace and the quiet flush of domestic bliss. A profound swell of gratitude spreads within his heart. It's during intimate moments like these that he feels especially lucky. A far cry from the man brought into this mansion years ago, times you also reflect on amidst late-night conversations.

The memories remain as vivid as yesterday.

It was late in the afternoon, the setting sun casting long silhouettes across the classroom. You stood by the blackboard, explaining the laws of electromagnetism while scribbling equations in chalk. For months, you'd taken over Charles' role as the physics professor, and what began as a favour soon grew into a passion. However, some days were particularly slow. A palpable sense of boredom washed over your students as their eyes drifted towards the clock in anticipation. Just as you were about to begrudgingly dismiss them, the door flew open - a dishevelled figure clad in gray burst in, wildly panting in fear and confusion.

This must be Logan, you concluded, recalling the latest mission debrief from Scott and Storm. They'd rescued two mutants in Canada, one of whom was particularly banged up and recovering in the med bay. Well, until now. Since their arrival, Charles had emphasised the erratic nature of Logan's mind, even unconscious, a part of him stayed unyielding against the telepath's powers. But as you locked eyes with him, you saw none of that. Instead, he seemed lost and terrified, glancing around the room from one corner to the next as if someone was speaking. Before you could offer a word of reassurance, he was gone, disappearing into the hallway like a fleeting shadow.

Over the following months, he slowly began to emerge from his shell. At first, it was just plain nods of acknowledgement as you passed each other in the mansion. Then, a word here and there, clipped phrases of advice and caution during particularly dangerous missions. Gradually, his presence became more pronounced. Sometimes, after intense training sessions, he'd slip into the back of your classroom, intently listening to your lectures on concepts you presumed were entirely foreign to him.

Except they weren't. It was only later that you discovered his secret: the countless hours spent poring over textbooks he'd discreetly stolen from Charles' bookshelf. The realisation filled your heart with a warm sense of affection. His unspoken interest, the hidden depths, it was all so endearing. Thereafter, Logan consumed your thoughts. And it was during one of those sleepless nights that you found the courage to join him in the kitchen, wordlessly focusing on your own books at either end of the table. Since then, a shared understanding passed between you, a bond forged from mutual appreciation and a hint of something more.

The first time he cracked a smile left you breathless. Jean was furious at Scott, her anger clear as day as she stormed away. And Scott, ever so helpless, turned to anyone for guidance, retracing every misstep, every misplaced word. Logan, watching the scene unfold, sneered to himself, enjoying the man cluelessly suffering. You exchanged a knowing look, a silent agreement on the absurdity of the situation. As you excused yourself, a fit of giggles threatening to overtake you, Logan followed close behind, unable to suppress his own laughter.

From that moment on, things changed. You found yourselves seeking each other, conversations flowed effortlessly, at times even seasoned with playful banter. And as Logan became a steady figure in your life, a strange ache settled in your heart. You were falling for him. Yet, his emotions remained a mystery, a puzzle you were desperate to solve.

One year became another, and another and another. And as your feelings for him increased, hesitation crept in rather unwillingly. You pushed everything away, burying them six feet under, afraid of rejection or something worse. But Logan, with his uncanny perceptiveness, sensed the shift in your behaviour. And one day, in a moment of raw honesty, he confronted you. A heated argument ensued, emotions spilling over, words cutting deep. Then, just as suddenly, the tension dissipated. His lips were on yours, conveying every bit of the love he carried in ways words could never bring justice to.

That was a couple of months ago. Everything was perfect and you'd never felt more complete until you noticed the brief flashes of insecurity whenever he saw the mark on your wrist. You knew he didn't have one. In the beginning, it became a sensitive topic, you started wearing a watch or longer sleeves to stop reminding him. But eventually, his unease was too much to ignore.

And so, you bit the bullet.

The conversation was fraught with discomfort, but as you spoke, his expression softened, a slight weight lifting off his shoulders. He shamefully expressed his worries, the fear of not being enough - not being the one for you. It was a small step, but one that brought you closer than ever before.

Logan couldn't have been more grateful.

"Perhaps the two of you should, what do the kids call it, get a room?"

Charles' voice suddenly cuts across the silence. All eyes, including Logan's and yours, snap up from the blueprints scattered on the table. Scott blinks in confusion, meanwhile Jean, holding back a knowing smirk, can barely contain herself.

"I've had my fair share of lewd daydreams in my youth, but that was quite disturbing," he continues, tone laced with disapproval.

Colour drains from your face. Had your thoughts really been that obvious? Sure, you couldn't stop admiring how the tight leather suit molded to Logan's physique - incredibly distracting, to say the least. But you didn't realise you were projecting your attraction so loudly, especially in a room with two telepaths.

"Sorry, Professor." It seems useless to apologise at this point, but he responds with a curt nod directed at Logan. Turning your attention to the blueprints, you feel a familiar weight against your back. Logan, the sly bastard, leans over your shoulder with feigned nonchalance. And it takes every ounce of your willpower to focus on the serious discussion instead.

A recon mission.

Some old abandoned Hydra facility used for mutant experimentation in the 90s, the remnants of failed trials left to rot and forgotten. Charles had caught wind of it through Cerebro, suspecting that there may be valuable information hidden within its walls, secrets that should very well stay away from the wrong hands.

"What's in there?" Scott asks, tensing a little.

Charles pauses, a scowl twisting his expression, "That is a private matter."

"Private Matter," you mumble without thinking, instinctively reaching for a salute before Logan catches your wrist, halting the motion. He shoots a look, a silent reprimand that very clearly implies "Not now". Fortunately, no one else witnesses your mistimed quip, too engaged in drafting a safe plan for extraction.

The mission seems fairly straightforward, a simple infiltration like many you've done before. Nevertheless, Charles concludes with a stern warning to heed caution, "Now, good luck to all of you." As you filter out the room, he casts a pointed glare, "And Logan, please refrain from defiling my desk at any point in the future."

Shock etches across your face, mouth slightly agape. Once you're out of earshot, you shove Logan’s arm in embarrassment, "It wasn't me then." You breathe in relief only to be reminded of the thoughts he seemed to be entertaining earlier. What surprises you is the fact that you're more intrigued than deterred by the idea.

"My bad, sweetheart. Couldn't help myself," he laughs, dipping in close to whisper, "Suit's makin' it real hard to think straight." And with that, he's off, jogging ahead to Scott and Jean already waiting in the hangar.

Once you're airborne, the atmosphere shifts. Jean pilots the jet, her hands steady on the controls, eyes scanning the horizon. The Hydra facility looms in the distance, a dark and ominous presence in the middle of nowhere. As you approach your destination, a sense of apprehension lingers among the four of you. Scott recounts the plan, outlining the most efficient entry and exit points, his voice low and deliberate, "Logan and I will start from top-down and you two from the opposite."

As you leave the jet, a hand slips into your own, stilling you in place. Logan tugs you into his arms, there's a faint smile playing on his lips, his eyes, however, convey something along the lines of "Be careful, please". You squeeze his hand reassuringly, pressing a quick kiss before breaking away. With a reluctant sigh, he catches up with Scott, splitting off from you and Jean.

Inside, the air is thick with the scent of decay and neglect. Everything is left exactly as it was, except there are signs of a violent struggle - machines overturned, wires strewn across the floor, glass shards crunching under your boots. It's a scene of chaos and destruction. In the center lies an operating table, its restraints snapped in half, broken syringes and discarded medical equipment scattered around.

Electricity crackles beneath your fingertips. Though your powers aren't advanced, Charles has been a patient mentor, overseeing your progress since the day he found you. However, as you keep surveying the area, you notice an odd sensation, a subtle resistance to your abilities. A similar unease grips Jean too, her gaze meeting yours, a shared look of concern exchanged as you continue your search.

A distorted voice breaks through the comms, "Upper level's clear. No sign of anything." It's Scott, barely recognisable over the static.

"Copy. Still sweeping the lower level," you respond, but it's garbled by the interference.

"Stay on alert," Jean warns, straining her telekinetic energy against the strange force permeating the facility. "Defence systems could still be active."

You venture deeper into the hallway, greeted by an eerie silence broken only by the echo of your own footsteps. A series of cells line the corridor, thick metal barricades, scarred and rusted, stand as a testament to the suffering endured by those held captive years before. Peering through the tiny barred windows, you see sterile, empty rooms, not a single bed or mattress to be found - the cold, hard concrete floor offering no comfort.

"Fuckin' hell," you murmur, chills running down your spine. Jean hums quietly in agreement, looking around in horror. The electricity you can usually detect in the background dwindles to a weak buzz. You descend a narrow staircase, the air growing heavier by the second. At the end of the hallway is another metal hatch, this time with a faded Hydra symbol etched onto its surface. With a concentrated effort, Jean manipulates the lock, the door groaning open with a distinct beep.

It's beyond dimly lit - a dark, cavernous space. You focus your powers, fighting against the invisible pressure dampening your strength, current coursing through your veins. With a snap of your wrist, the room erupts in light, fluorescent bulbs flickering awake. A row of computers surrounded by a bundle of wires and archaic machinery stretch towards the ceiling.

"Must be the control room," Jean reaches out to flip a switch, but as her fingers brush the old metal, energy jolts through your body - a warning that something is amiss.

"No - wait!" you shout, but it's too late. The metal door slams shut with a deafening clang. An agonising vibration rattles through the room, a shockwave that reverberates through your body. The two of you sink to the floor, clutching your ears as a rush of debilitating pain burns every nerve ending in your body. And you're left paralysed for what feels like an eternity.

Logan clicks his tongue as static continues pouring through the comms, he catches the tail-end of your broken reply - something something lower level - a pit of dread forming in his stomach, "Place feels off."

"You're right, I can't get a read on anything," Scott mutters, the red hue of his glasses flashing in the darkness.

Logan's eyes dart around the space, landing on a series of grotesque instruments undoubtedly used for torture. A wave of nausea washes over him, flashbacks of his own past spring forward at the sight, reminders of the days when he too was a mere subject in someone else's twisted experiments. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. An imperceptible vibration ripples beneath his feet, "The fuck was that?"

Scott immediately tries the comms again, "Jean? Wha - ", but it goes completely dead.

Logan's already barrelling through the corridors, his instincts taking over without a conscious thought. He calls for you again and again, reckless abandon fueling his every move. Screw the mission, all he wants is for you to be safe. His heart leaps into his throat as static hisses through the comms, Jean's voice muffled through the noise, "We've got... a major problem."

One second passes.

Two.

Three.

"C'mon, darlin'." The silence drags on, panic begins to seize his mind, sweat beading on his forehead. He needs to find you, now. The faint vibrations gradually become intense as he races down the staircase, "Major problem? C'mon, say your stupid joke, sweetheart. Please. Anything." His pleas, wracked with desperation, fall on deaf ears. Fear gnaws at him. He’s itching to hear your voice, even for that little running gag he doesn’t fully understand. Just any goddamn sign that you're still alive.

His senses direct him towards the metal hatch. Lunging forward, his fist connects with the barrier, claws extending at any attempt to tear through the door. Yet it holds firm, its surface barely dented or scratched by his force. Frantic, Logan rams his claws into the small security panel on the side, trying to short-circuit the lock. But the moment it's breached, a chain reaction is triggered, explosives hidden within the walls detonate with a tremendous roar. A torrent of debris and radiation thrusts him backwards, knocking him hard against the concrete.

The world around him seemingly implodes into a bedlam of sound and light, white flashes obscuring his vision. Pain, a searing, all-consuming pain diffuses through every inch of his body. His consciousness wanes, slipping away from his grasp. In the fading moments of awareness, he hears a distant crackle of electricity.

Then, nothing.

The memory of the chaos, the blinding light, the aftermath of the explosion, replay over and over. And then, there was Logan, his body limp and unresponsive, a sight that haunts your every waking moment. You remember the desperate scramble to escape the facility, the weight of his unconscious form in all your arms, the tense journey back to the mansion, Charles and Jean ushering you out of the med bay - their focus solely on stabilising him.

The night stretches on, a relentless march of time that seems to punctuate your helplessness as you pace back and forth. The lack of response from anyone doesn't quell the whirlwind of anxieties in the slightest. Every minute sound, every faint whisper, sends your heart racing. But when they finally emerge hours later, faces etched with exhaustion and relief, you can finally breathe.

For days, you sit by Logan's bedside, hands intertwined with his. The monotonous rhythm signalling his vitals is the only thing grounding you to reality. Though he remains unconscious, Jean had offered words of comfort, pointing to subtle improvements in his healing with her scans. Eventually, warmth returns to his body. His breathing, once laboured, is now full and steady. Leaning forward, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead and hope ignites within you again, just enough to draw a small, weary smile.

But then, you see it.

Glaring at you, painfully so, is a little mark on the back of his shoulder. Except, it isn't the same crescent moon that adorns your wrist. No.

Your heart sinks, breath catching in your throat, paralysis sets in once again. A single, shattering revelation echoes in your mind: Logan is not your soulmate.

He stirs awake, eyelids fluttering open. Everything slowly returns to his senses as the haze of confusion begins to clear. The first thing he notices is the familiar scent of you lingering on his skin, in the air, on the chair pulled by his side. As his vision unblurs, the blue walls of the med bay coming into view, a flood of concern smacks him in the face. Where are you? What happened? He tries to sit up, his body protesting with every movement.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The mechanical hum of a wheelchair grows louder as it approaches. Charles, brimming with sympathy, rolls closer.

Logan groans, his muscles throbbing like never before, "What the hell happened? Is she - "

"She's alright, as are Scott and Jean," he interjects, though a shadow of pity clouds his expression. The unspoken weight behind his words triggers alarms in Logan's head, but before he can question him, a sharp burn shoots up his back. He winces, reaching for the source of the stinging. Beneath his fingertips, a strange, rough texture grates against his skin. He angles back to inspect it, blood running cold.

"It surfaced a week ago," Charles says grimly, "We suspect the radiation from the explosion temporarily impacted your healing, hence, the mark."

Logan can't think straight, a maelstrom of emotions engulfs every single fiber of his being - disbelief, agony and rage. How could this be real? He'd spent night after night, praying for some sort of sign, a reason for his existence. And when he found that in you, it felt like everything finally aligned. But now, destiny had struck him down with a ruthless blow, a cosmic twist of fate far worse than death.

Seven days.

That's how long it's been since you last saw him. The weight of the world bore down on you, every breath a struggle. Hours bled into one another as you stayed locked in your room, sobbing uncontrollably, your heart fracturing with each passing moment. Jean's persistent knocking eventually broke through your despair, her calm voice soothing your frayed mental state.

It took all of her gentle persuasion for you to finally eat something, to force you out of the anguish that consumed you. The news that Logan was awake and begging to see you almost crumbled the impenetrable walls you'd built up. But the thought of facing him, of confronting the fragile pieces of your harsh reality, filled you with dread.

And so, you avoided him. Retreating into yourself, a ghost of your own life, you clung to the illusion of distance. Maybe it'll somehow ease the pain, the heartbreak. You couldn't even bear to look at your own wrist, the mark - a cruel reminder of a love that was and a future that can never be. Every second of every day, mocking whispers floated around your mind, "You don't deserve him. You never did."

The moment Logan fully recovers, he immediately rushes through the mansion. Anticipation swells in his chest, there's nothing he wants more than your touch, your laughter - just you. He reaches your room, sensing the warmth from within. Hand hovering in the air, he takes a deep breath before knocking.

"Sweetheart?"

There's no response. He drops his head against the door, breathing ragged. Tears sting his eyes, threatening to spill over, the oxygen in his lungs thinning as he tries to speak, "Please. I know you're in there. Talk to me." The silence, the emptiness, it all becomes too much. He's losing you, and he can't do anything to stop it. "I know you're upset. But, please, just let me in."

Your voice comes muffled, charged with grief and sorrow, "That mark means there's someone out there for you - your real soulmate. Someone who isn't me." The words are piercing, he longs to pull you into his arms, to comfort you, to reassure you. "I am not meant for you, Logan," you choke out.

"Fuck that," he spits back. He can't accept this, that you're conceding to some inexplicable truth, "'M not givin' you up cause of some shit on my body. I choose you. And I will choose you. Every single time." It's all strangled, raw with emotion, cheeks stained with a wetness. He's wound up, a caged animal clawing at the bars. He'll fight for you, even if all the cards are against him, "Darlin', I don't care if there's someone else - they're not you. You're perfect to me. For me. The universe can go fuck itself cause I love you."

Logan goes still. He's never expressed that to you, not in this way, not with such soul-baring honesty. But, nothing has ever been more true, "I love you."

Heavy hangs the air. Then, a soft padding of footsteps, the door clicks open. Before he can react, your hands cup his face, drawing him down to your level, lips meeting in a passionate caress. Logan cradles the back of your head, deepening the kiss. The space between you, both physically and emotionally, fades away. This is all that matters, for now and forever.

His arms tighten as you pull back and tuck into the crook of his neck. The weight of your exhaustion is obvious with the shuddering sigh you let out, his heart aching for you. As you whisper apologies, he trails kisses down your face. "No, no, don't be sorry, darlin'," he says, all soft and gentle. Neither of you move, surrendering to each other, the moment suspended in time. Slowly, your trembling subsides and he smiles, the lines of misery now dimming. With delicate fingers, he brushes your tears away.

"I have a major headache," you murmur, eyes falling shut.

He huffs a laugh, saluting you with a playful grin, "Major Headache." The look of astonishment across your face brings him so much joy. "I asked Kitty, told me to watch the damn show." And Logan did watch the show - all for you - to understand the little references you kept making here and there.

"You know how to use the Internet?" you ask, incredulously.

"Don't push it, sweetheart." There's no malice behind his tone whatsoever. With a smirk, he leans forward, scooping you up in his arms and carries you to the bed. It's a familiar motion, a routine he's done hundreds of times before. But now, it's different, one that’s even more precious.

"Logan?"

"Hm?"

"I love you too."

He knows. He knows because it's written all over you. Every word, every breath, every touch - a testament to your love for him. A love so quiet and profound, a love that has weathered storms, a love that will last until the end of time. And he's eternally grateful for it. For you.

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gtgbabie0 · 7 months ago

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Helloo can I request a sweet smut with aegon x reader where they've been apart for some time due to work and when they come together they just want to be intimate with one another

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{Aegon’s patience has been wearing thin, he soon reaches a breaking point}

!!-18//MDNI-!! Sorry this took so long I simply cannot catch a break, enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

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Since the moment Aegon sat down on his council chair he wanted to leave, to abandon the whole damned meeting and let the fools figure it out for themselves. What was the point of even being there if they overlooked everything he said?— if they did not take him seriously?

It angered him beyond belief, the way they looked at him, the snide remarks that left a stupid pain in his chest no matter how much he tried to ignore it. He sits there bored and pissed off, spinning the marble against the wooden table as their words blend into one another making one big dull noise.

He feels silly, ignored, and he doesn’t enjoy it— so he leaves, slamming his fist onto the table so hard that it causes each of the council members to jump in their seats. The marble rolls off of the table, smashing onto the stone floor as the door shuts behind him with a loud thud.

Aegon bites the inside of his cheek, trying to cool his temper down before entering your bedchambers- the last thing he wanted to do was sour your day with his mood, but it doesn’t work he can’t seem to quell the frustration that coils around his already tense body.

It's your laugh. The sound of your laughter, light and merry calms him. It clashes so greatly with the heavy weight of his heart, with the turbulence in his mind. He stands there for a moment, just outside your shared bedchambers, his anger evaporating as he listens to the heavenly sound.

With a deep breath, he opens the door entering with a relieved sigh. His lilac eyes meet your own with a tender expression that softens his features, watching your dressers ready you for bed, taking your necklace and earrings off with great care.

“You’re dismissed… leave us.” Aegon commands, waving a dismissive hand to the two ladies. They both bow courtly before leaving the room with knowing smirks gracing their lips.

You stand there however with furrowed brows, tilting your head in confusion as he draws closer to you. “I’m still in my day clothes?” You state only receiving a chuckle in return.

“I’m aware.” He smirks, admiring the way the silk of your dress hugs your curves. It drives him to madness and he can’t help but grasp at your hips as he continues to drink in the sight of you. "You don't need your dressers to get you ready for bed... I can take care of that for you."

The realisation hits all so suddenly, taking your breath away and the only response you can give him is a small ‘Oh’ which only makes him chuckle once more against the soft skin of your shoulder.

It had been far too long since he had taken you, all the interrupted moments and the long busy days had caused a searing ache between your thighs that you had tried to sate with your fingers, but nothing could compare to Aegon— he knew you like the back of his hand, he filled the spaces you couldn’t.

“What has spurred this one?” You ask, tone hushed and breathless as he leaves a trail of warm kisses along your neck and the dip of your shoulder. It wasn’t a complaint, far from it, you just wanted to know whether or not he burned for you the way you did for him.

And gods did he. Aegon's fingers work at the laces of your dress with practised ease, his touch feather-light and yet exhilarating. He watches you through the reflection of the mirror, the way the silk of your dress ripples down your body like a waterfall until it pools around your feet leaving you vulnerable to him.

“Do I need an excuse to want to touch you like this?” He whispers, lips grazing against the curve of your jaw. It’s all so dizzying in such an embarrassing way.

You lean back against him, enjoying the way his fingers trace along your waist causing your skin to break out in gooseflesh. He mumbles something about how ‘sensitive you are’ into the crook of your neck and you can feel the smirk that teeters on his lips when a breathless moan escapes you.

“No of course not— I’ve missed you.” You sigh, leaning your head to expose more of your neck to him as your fingers find his hair.

He nuzzles his nose against the underside of your jaw, humming in contentment as your sweet flowery scent surrounds him. “I’ve missed you— so much.” He breathes.

Aegon cups your jaw, tilting your head slightly to the side so he can kiss you. So slow and yet full of passion that has only been building up for the past few weeks. He groans into your eager mouth the taste of your tongue against his own going straight to his cock.

His arms wrap around your midsection, pulling you closer to him. He press his growing erection against the curve of your ass and he can’t help but rut against you slightly. He was more pent up than he realised.

He breaks the messy kiss momentarily, his breath warm against your skin. "You taste... incredible..." he whispers, his voice a low rumble, before kissing you once again.

“The wine perhaps.” The words are hushed through a small giggle. Once again his lips find yours, not breaking as you turn around in his embrace, one of his hands reaching up to caress your warm cheek.

"No," he murmurs, pulling back to admire you with a hungry look and a lazy grin. "It's not the wine." He leans back in. "It's... you," the kiss is much greedier, and his hands trace a path down your spine, resting against the small of your back, drawing you closer to his body.

You gasp, hands flying to grab his forearms as he suddenly begins to guide you backwards over to your shared bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress as you collide with the softness of the bedsheets, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Where did your manners go?” You tease him lightly, propping yourself up on your elbows, watching him with desire in your eyes as he lifts his tunic over his head, discarding it on the floor somewhere.

He smirks, leaning over you, trailing his lips along your collarbones— a clash of teeth and tongue. His hips lay flush over your own as he slowly grinds himself down onto you, relishing in the sweet sounds that you make.

"My manners?" he murmurs against your chest, his eyes meeting your own with a glint of playfulness flashes through them. "They flew out the window the moment I took that dress off of you."

His gaze roams over your body, drinking in the sight of you laid out beneath him bare— hips writhing desperately. You gasp against the pillows as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak whilst his other hand cups your unattended breast, thumbing over the nub.

“Aegon— please.” The words are a struggle to get out as he’s rendered you completely breathless, but the way your hips lift up to try and press against his, desperate for attention, tells him everything he needs to know.

He hums in understanding, leaving a trail of kisses along your breasts. “I’ll get there, my love… I’ll get there.” He coos softly, his hand falling to your restless hips as his thumb rubs over the curve and dips whilst his mouth ravishes your chest in wet kisses and small licks.

Aegon slips his hand in between your thighs, watching your face intently as his fingers part your slick folds, running along the sensitive flesh before catching your clit, rubbing slow circles over the bud. He’s completely taken with the way you arch up into his touch, how your lips part, the sounds you make. All of it— all of you—causes his cock to throb.

You mewl, hips bucking against his hand as he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them. “Mhm… you’re so beautiful with my fingers buried in your cunt,” He smirks, enjoying the fact he isn’t the only one who has been pent up. “So wet…” the words are muffled against your lips, your slickness coating his digits.

You brush your fingers through his hair, pulling him into a kiss as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Your free hand works deftly to unlace his breeches, the fabric falls mid-thigh letting his cock spring free, begging for attention.

Aegon hisses sharply into your ear, burying his face against your shoulder as your hand wraps around his length. “I want your cock inside me, please…” you beg him, voice strained with pleasure. The deep desire to feel him as close to you as humanly possible completely drowns out everything else in your mind, your thoughts now are only of him.

He nods his head in compliance, not having the strength the refrain himself any longer than he already has. Sliding his fingers out of your cunt, he coats your slickness around the tip of his thick shaft, the feeling sends a tingle down his spine, his skin hot to the touch.

Aegon swats your hand away gently as he guides the head of his cock between your folds, nudging the tip against your clit over and over again basking in the way his name sounds coming from you all whiny, laced with such wanton passion.

He groans as he lines himself up to your entrance before sinking into you slowly, whispering soft lovely words of encouragement against your jaw. The way you take him with ease, how your slick walls clamp around him it’s all so maddening— so mind-numbing and all he can do is huff and moan against your skin.

The stretch of him is so achingly good, the drag of his cock along your walls as he thrusts his hips against your own sends a searing heat through your abdomen. Aegon mutters on about how ‘good you feel’ and how ‘well you take him’ like some sort of crazed man, completely drunk off of your body.

His movements soon become sloppy, trying so hard to keep himself from spilling too early but the sounds of wet flesh and your moans coupled with the way your cunt squeezes around him makes it nearly impossible as he teeters closer to the edge.

“Fuck— I can’t— it’s been too long I— I won’t last.” He whimpers, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. His hands pin your hips down to the bedsheets as he continues to fuck himself into you, moaning hotly against your flushed skin as you wrap your thighs around his waist to hold him closer.

“I- I’m close… don’t worry.” You reassure him, your hand grasping at his white hair. The tightness deep inside him eventually snaps, spilling his warm seed inside you with a broken cry of pleasure, panting and whining into the crook of your neck as apologies fly from his lips. You grab his face, kissing him greedily as you come around cock, milking him practically dry.

The pair of you go boneless against the comfort of the pillows, catching your breaths with dazed expressions. Aegon’s fingers trace a soothing line along your spine as you instinctively seek out the warmth of his arms.

“Sorry-” He rasps with a lazy grin, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek. "It's been too long"

“Mm… don't apologise, we'll never go that long apart again.” You reply earning a weak nod and a hum of agreement from him. You rest your cheek against his chest, allowing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm your own erratic one.

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tzyunaes · 1 month ago

Text

HOLD ME , CONSOLE ME ⟡ CLINGY S/O

𝖲𝖴𝖢𝖢I𝖭𝖢𝖳 ‎ ✷ ‎ 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄.

[ 형선 ] 𓈒𓈒 bf!엔하이픈 ˖ 𝑓em!r g. fluff established relationship ──── EPHEMER𝒾S ( 74O ) cw. skinship && kissing.

jennifer says .. really mid and only hyung line cause i kinda ran out of ideas ://

LEE HEESEUNG──────the sun shone in its innate manner, basking a tranquil atmosphere. your head resting on your dear lover’s chest like it wasn't an annoying monday morning instead of a pleasant lazy sunday morning with your boyfriend.

he chuckled slightly when he saw you groaning by the realization and pulled you close, his arms curled around your waist, his eyes as observant as ever, “is my baby pouting?” he teased, not to mention how it only made your pout grow bigger.

“no. can you not go to work today please can you just stay here with me”, you murmured under your breath, drawing circles on his chest subconsciously and that's when he catches himself smiling faintly like a fool in love.

“you want me to stay here with you, doll? how about i give you two hundred and twenty two kisses and get out early from work tonight?” he whispered, already planting kisses all-over your face.

maybe to the point where he will achieve kissing your pouts away and exchanging into giggles.

PARK JONGSEONG──────you stare at your boyfriend from the couch as he got ready for office with a subtle pout on your face. he looked behind to face you as he fixed his tie for the last time, holding back the faint smile cause he didn't even need you to say it out aloud and already could tell what you were up to.

walking close to you, he cups your face with adoration in his eyes, “what, princess? don't want me to go to work?” he states rather than asking, noticing the frown on your face.

“no...why would i—” he cuts you off midway by leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. “you know i would oblige if you just said the word, doll. anything it takes to wipe that pout off your pretty face.”

you looked away from him, a pink ray visible on your cheeks, “stop you're too cheesy.” you retort, sighing when you realized that he was being serious.

“you don't have to skip, baby. just bring me boba and—” “cuddles. and as many kisses as you want, baby.”

SIM JAEYUN──────your sigh fell warm on jake’s chest, he patted your hair in a tender and devoted manner when you nuzzled closer to him. he loved it when you were more affectionate than usual cause it gave him chances to express more of his clingy side. who could blame him, you were too adorable.

“why do you need to go to work...” you mumbled under your breath and he smiled, “i know right. that's exactly what im saying like fuck you mean i have to leave for work instead of cuddling my pretty wifey all day!” he murmured, his body pressed against yours. you giggled, his arms around your waist grew tighter.

“stop—” your words are interrupted by him planting dozens of kisses over your face. trailing down to your throat, he buried his face on the crook of your neck.

“okay i made my decision. i’m not going anywhere today,” he muttered between kisses and the seriousness in his voice would never let you second that.

PARK SUNGHOON──────sunghoon stared at you as you climbed on his lap facing him with amusement prepped on his face but his arms reached out to be wrapped around your waist. you stared at his eyes for a moment as if it was a staring competition before leaning in and prepping a peck on his cheeks.

a chuckle left his mouth when he finally understood what you were trying to do and pulled you closer for another kiss.

“trying to distract me from the fact that i have to go soon, baby? you know you don't have to try, right? i get distracted by you even when you're breathing, princess,” he says as he leaves a trail of kisses down your neck, your cheeks soon turned into a shade of pink by his teasing.

“that's not true, hoon. you're so wrong.” he just chuckled without another word and continued leaving kisses, although he was ready to leave for work.

with the last peck on your forehead, he got up, not forgetting to whisper, “don’t worry, angel, i'm gonna get out early for you.”

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uzurakis · 9 months ago

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hi hi it’s me again!! (yes I’m the nonnie w/the stalker request + ‘my friend thinks ur cute’ request :3) I’m here to request again!! reckless!reader with jjk men (yuta n Megumi yk the deal 🙏🙏) + bonus points if reader hides their injuries too! maybe reader was on a mission; got injured and didn’t tell jjk men, or reader was playing around on a frozen lake not giving af and it begins to crack, or reader straight up doesn’t look both ways while crossing the street n act like they have 9 lives (yuta ptsd fr 😭), or anything you wanna come up with :3 do what you like!

HIDING YOUR INJURIES FROM THEM?

featuring: gojo satoru. fushiguro megumi. yuuta okkotsu. itadori yuuji.

n. i sure know the deal my beloved meguyuta nonnie (imma call u dat instead). i decided to go with the first idea of yours, i hope that’s okay!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. you returned from a challenging mission, your body aching with every step. despite the pain gnawing at you, you plastered on a smile as you entered the room where megumi was waiting. he looked up, concern etched across his features.

fushiguro megumi has the term ‘worry’ in his vocabulary. he immediately called out, "you…” without saying any ‘hey’s or ‘hi’s, you were able to cut him off with your response.

"it went alright, just a few scrapes," you replied, trying to downplay the severity of your injuries

but megumi wasn't fooled. his brows furrowed as he approached you, his eyes scanning your form. “you’re lying,” megumi grabbed your wrist firmly as he looked straight into your eyes. "those 'scrapes' look more like serious wounds," he said, you could literally hear him edged with frustration.

you swallowed, guilt creeping into your chest. "i’m fine," you confessed, avoiding his gaze and breaking free from his grip.

megumi sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "you're injured, and you’re still trying to hide it from me? seriously?" he scolded, frustration becoming more evident.

“fine then.”

he looked away, and you felt a twinge of regret at the way he responded. but then there was a change in his attitude. as he reached for the first aid kit, his demeanor softened and his irritation vanished. silently, he whispered, "let's get you patched up," megumi’s voice was soft yet stiff.

as he tended to your wounds in silence, the tension in the room dissipated. his touch was tender, his movements careful as he bandaged your injuries. when he finished, he looked up, green pupils meeting yours.

"you make me worry, you know that?"

ITADORI YUUJI. you stumbled through the door, trying to hide the wince as pain shot through your side. itadori was waiting, his eyes lighting up as he saw you, but then furrowing with concern as he noticed your slight limp.

"baby, you're back! how did it go?" he asked.

you forced a smile, trying to brush off the pain. "good, thank god it was just a second grade curse," you replied, hoping he wouldn't see through your facade.

your boyfriend, though, remained unconvinced. "are you sure you're alright? you’re limping.”

you hesitated, but his genuine concern melted away your resolve. you felt bad for keeping it from him, but at last you said, "well, there might be a small injury, but it's nothing serious."

instantly, itadori's expression softened, and he wrapped you in a tight hug that made you let out a small ouch. "don't hide these things from me," his breath warm against your ear. “let me help you tend your injuries, baby. do you need shoko or just an aid kit?”

GOJO SATORU. the mission had been tougher than anticipated, but you knew gojo would worry if he saw how badly you were hurt. so you played pretend and hoped it would be enough. gojo was lounging on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, his usual smirk playing on his lips. his eyes, hidden behind his pitch black glasses, seemed to twinkle as he looked up at you. "oi, you're back earlier than i expected."

you nodded, keeping your movements slow and controlled. "yeah, managed to wrap things up quicker than i thought." he tilted his head, a curious glint in his eye. "really? no trouble at all?"

"none," you lied, forcing a laugh. "just the usual."

gojo's smile faltered, just for a second, but you caught it. he stood up and sauntered over to you, his gaze never leaving your face. "hey, you know," he began, voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone, "i can see right through you, babe. you're hurt."

"i'm okay, satoru. really."

he reached out, gently but firmly taking your arm. "don't lie to me." his fingers brushed against a particularly sore spot, and you winced despite yourself. “look?”

"satoru, i didn't want you to worry—“

he cut you off, his grip tightening just enough to keep you still without causing more pain. "hm, too late for that, baby," he said with a mix of irritation and concern. "let me take care of you."

you sighed, realizing there was no point in hiding it anymore. "okay, but just... be gentle, alright?"

he led you to the couch, his touch surprisingly tender as he helped you sit down. "i'm always gentle," he teased, but his eyes were serious as he examined your injuries. "you should've told me right away."

YUUTA OKKOTSU. he eyed you for a moment, his smile fading slightly. "babe, you alright? you seem a bit... off."

"just tired. it's been a long day." you waved a hand dismissively, nothing to worry, you wanted to tell him that.

yet, yuuta's gaze still lingered on you, eyes narrowing slightly. "alright," he said slowly, "if you say so."

you made your way to the bathroom, trying to move naturally despite the pain. you thought you had managed to convince him, but as you stood in front of the stall, trying to remove your clothes without aggravating your injuries, the man appeared in the doorway.

"let me help you with that," he said softly, moving to stand beside you.

you blinked, surprised. "yuuta, really, i'm fine. you don't have to—”" then he gently took your hand, eyes full of concern. "please, let me help you tend your wounds, babe.”

thinking again, you hadn't said anything about being hurt, but somehow he knew. "how did you..”

your boyfriend smiled faintly. "i could tell. i know you too well." his fingers brushed lightly over a bruise that was starting to show through your shirt. "you don't have to hide it from me."

you sighed, feeling a mix of relief and resignation. "i just didn't want you to worry."

yuuta shook his head, his expression tender. "i worry more when you try to hide things from me. so don’t do it again, you hear me, babe?”

@uzurakis

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mariasont · 8 months ago

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Could you do a story where Y/N Is taken in a hostage situation and we see more of a dark hotch? like that early episode where hotch and reid are hostages in the hospital?

TOO EMOTIONAL - A.H

a/n: thank you so much for requestin <3 i hope this is what you were wanting!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: honestly yall i feel like this is way darker than anything i've written so far, not sure if its good or not but alas, mentions of blood, violence, unsub threatens reader with a knife and a lighter, mentions of sexual assualt (it doesnt happen just mentions of it), unsub cuts open readers shirt, hotch is a dick for a plot, hurt/comfort

wc: 1.4k

Your vision was blurred, you fought to focus as dried blood flaked from your lashes with each heavy blink. You swallowed a cough, the floor's cold concrete punishing your knees. The ties around your wrists and ankles were merciless, digging into your flesh. You tried to focus on the sounds around you—the drip-drop of water, the soft wail of distant sirens.

In the dim light, you caught glimpses of Hotch, his distinct cologne mingling with the warehouse's musty air. He was agonizingly close yet not close enough to touch. The unsub's footsteps were barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Panic fluttered in your chest, unwanted and insistent. Only three cases in, and it seemed the universe was conspiring to reroute your career choice.

Frantically, you attempted to wipe your face on your shirt, pulse roaring in your ears as the footsteps ceased before you and Hotch. The man was a ghastly figure, burns cutting from one side of his face to the other. You couldn't breathe.

"What a day to have feds come knocking." His voice was hoarse, fingers absently playing with a lighter.

"You know, they say the most intelligent criminals are the ones who don't get caught, yet here we are," Hotch said, his chin defiantly up, words sharp and calculated.

Suddenly, the unsub was right there, his disfigured face uncomfortably close, the heat from the lighter singeing your skin. His breath was a hot, sticky assault, and you fought the instinct to flinch.

"Smart men don't leave witnesses, and I intend to be very smart about this."

The foundations of your training flitted across your consciousness, the methodologies for keeping control of the situation, but they sifted through your fingers like said, rendering you paralyzed.

"Take her then. She's new, inexperienced. Probably more trouble than she's worth." Hotch's voice was cold, jarring like a slap to the face, his expression empty of emotion.

You strained to keep your face impassive, your eyes darting to Hotch, pleading for his attention. Your breaths were shallow, scarcely there. He had to be bluffing. You felt sick. The unsub shifted his weight, scrutinizing you both, edging closer to hotch, no doubt with suspicion.

The unsub laughed, a cold and calculating sound as he circled around Hotch. "You expect me to believe you'd turn on your own that quickly? I'm not a fool."

"Look at her and tell me what her worth is to me." Hotch's voice was even, almost bored. "She's a liability. Too emotional, too soft."

His words were flung carelessly, yet they landed with precision, straight into your chest. Your teeth punished the inside of your cheek.

The remarks were like sharp barbs to your chest, instilling a hollow feeling as you attempted to convince yourself that the wetness on your lashes was anything but tears. His assessment was not unfounded. Your empathy, your sensitivity, traits deemed too tender for the harsher realities of your job, were now being used against you. Hotch had always been an exception, until now.

"Well, I could see her worth in other ways." The man's words oozed contempt, his gaze crawling over you in a way that threatened to turn your stomach. "I bet that's how she got the job in the first place, huh?"

"What do you think?" Hotch's laugh was a sinister match to the unsub's. He tilted his head in your direction. "Look at her. That's all she's been good for."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body turning as much as the ties would permit in Hotch's direction. You could almost hear your heart shattering, could feel it in Hotch's inability to face you. Was this a plan or had he truly discarded you?

You never deluded yourself into thinking you were Hotch's favorite--his reserved interactions with you made that abundantly clear. In fact, you were probably his least favorite. He had kept you at an arm's length, while seemingly forging bonds with the others that didn't seem to extend to you.

This was all within reason, given your inexperience and younger age, but the disdain lacing his words was unexpected, shredding through any pretense of professional detachment.

Hotch had never wanted you on the team, it was Rossi who had vouched for you. And now, look where that got you both.

Maybe this was all deserved.

"Then you won't mind if I try her out for myself?" The unsub's insinuation felt like a perverse validation of Hotch's doubts.

A low hum escaped the unsub as he closed the distance, his gaze predatory. You stilled, breath caught as he produced a knife from his pocket, skimming your cheek just shy of cutting. You were scared and you were scared to show it. Desperately, you looked to Hotch, the blade now hovering precariously close to your sternum.

Hotch wouldn't look at you. You wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something, but that was all shoved to the bottom of your throat as the unsub sliced down the middle of your shirt, exposing your chest and compelling your gaze to it. Tears of humiliation prickled your eyes. How could Hotch let this happen to you?

The unsub's clammy grip clung to your waist, your lips trembling as you prepared for the worst. You closed your eyes, escaping to your house in your mind—tea brewing, fireplace going—anywhere but here.

A sudden splatter to your face jolted you back, eyes opening in alarm you saw Hotch's eyes, not the unsub's.

"You're okay, you're okay," Hotch murmurs.

The words did little to comfort you, his hands moving blindly to release the binds at your wrist and ankles. Looking down, you see the unsub, knife through his back, blood pooling around him. Hotch's hands are on your wrists, his thumbs massaging away the sting.

When your hand touches your face, you feel the splatter from earlier, coming back away with a smear of blood on your fingertips.

Your voice felt like it was a prisoner inside yourself, words and sounds slipping past you like ghosts. A persistent ringing in your ears muffled all but the pungent scent of the warehouse, which clawed at your senses.

You felt the jostle of hands, the motion of being lifted, a sensation so distant it barely registered. The world was a smear of lights and faces--the team showing up, the paramedics--until it slowly came into focus.

You barely registered that Hotch was speaking to you, his words indistinct and muffled.

"What?" you asked, your speech slow to form and blurred at the edges.

You had a jacket over the front of you, his jacket, covering your exposed chest.

Hotch's eyes were pools of worry as he grasped at your hand. It was weird, the feeling of his hand in yours. You realized that was the first time you had felt it.

"More water?"

You could only nod, and he promptly fetched a bottle, twisting it open and placing it in your hand. You took a small sip.

"It's too loud," you mumbled, you were aware you weren't making sense. You shifted to face him, your knee grazing his thigh. "Did you mean those things you said?"

"Of course I didn't mean it," Hotch replied quickly, his gaze intense. "You thought I meant that?"

Your gaze dropped to your lap, voice faltering. "I don't know... I wasn't sure, I mean, no, but I just... I don't feel very useful, and this whole mess, it's because of me and I--"

Tears interrupted you, your hands fumbling to hide them. Hotch reached out, gently turning your face to his, thumb brushing away the tears.

"Hey, look at me. Don't say that. This isn't your fault. Nothing I said back there was true. I needed to distract him, had to make him concentrate on you."

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying like this," you stammered between sobs.

"You don't have to apologize. You're crying because you've been through a lot. Just breathe, take your time."

You managed a wobbly smile. "You hit the nail on the head with the too emotional part," you sniffled.

Hotch gave a small chuckle. "Your compassion, your sensitivity, it's what sets you apart as an agent--in fact, it makes you an outstanding one."

You were close now, your gaze inadvertently drawn to his lips. You could kiss him if you wanted. Not that you were in the right headspace or that it was appropriate. But you could've.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm so glad you're okay!" You were barreled into a hug, the familiar voice and blur of color of Penelope enveloping your senses.

Hotch cautioned, "Watch her head."

With Penelope's hands around you, you found yourself looking over her shoulder, locking eyes with Hotch. His gaze held a new light, a recognition that maybe, just maybe you weren't Hotch's least favorite agent after all.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme

join my taglist here!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds angst

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urfriendlywriter · 9 months ago

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25 "I'm in love with you and I'm scared to lose you" prompts!

(feel free to use!!! plsplspls tag me I'd love to readd. especially 3, 9, 11, 14, 19 and 24 ahhh<33 | @urfriendlywriter )

"can i.. hold your hand?"

"i trust you, [name]." ✿

"i come offering hugs :) a lott of hugs"

"i feel stupid, why do u make me grin like a spineless fool whenever i am around you?" >\\\<

them staring at you from across the room and getting flustered when u stare at them back <AAAAAH3

"I'll live for you, love."

"I'll love you right in all universe"

"... you trusted in me when everything else was pointed against me.."

them tenderly tucking a hair behind ur ear (my c. ai be like >\\\<)

listening to their heartbeat while laying on their chest. :')

a soothing, and tender "come here, sweetheart"

"you're not alone.. I.." they cup their lover's face in their hands, "I'm here for you, and I'll always be."

"what else do i need, when i have my world in my arms?"

leaning forehead against each other's [AAAHHH is my toaster waterproof-]

"what will i do without you? thank you-"

^ "no, thank YOU, [nickname]. thank you for coming into my life." *cries in me when??*

"you.. you're a dream." (rip my heart)

^ "no, my love. you are the dream and I the lucky one to be living this dream with you" imagine them saying this while their lips hover the other's, before giving in.

them taking your hand and placing it on their chest, "feel this heartbeat? this is how much effect you have over me."

"i don't have to search for truth when you say you love me, i can already see it all in ur eyes." [bawling into my pillows]

a sigh of release when they're finally in your arms like they longed for it all day !!!!!

laying with your back to their chest!!! their hands around your waist (the way I'd MELTT so fast)

"I am in love with you." ".... we've been together for the past several years." "that's what. What are you doing to me, darling?"

"i never stopped falling in love with you."

lazy kisses, softly sighing and gasping into each other's mouths.!! [me when yall. its ab time ffs.]

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dark-and-kawaii · 2 months ago

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Cockwarming Nanami is such a tender act of intimacy, a soothing embrace after his long days at work, rather than just physical pleasure. Anyone can get that, but this... being in his arms, keeping his cock warm with your velvety walls as he presses the sweetest kiss to your temple, that's something special.

He's a Sorcerer... And with him, you know it's in his blood to protect and fight for those he cherishes. So each morning you awake, there's always that ache in your chest as you stare at Nanami while he sleeps... that you could be kissing him softly on the cheek today, feeling the warmth of his presence... and tomorrow there was always the chance of kissing the surface of a cold coffin, a farewell to a love forever lost.

As he comes home to you, weary and marked from another grueling mission, all he longs for -what you both ache for- is the comfort of holding each other close, the warmth that only the two of you can share.

As you straddle Nanami's powerful thighs, you hesitate for a moment fearing that you may cause him even more pain, and that's the last thing you want. But, as he softly takes your hand in his and presses the most loving kiss to the back of your hand, he ensures you that everything will be okay, “Don't let these wounds fool you, I'm stronger than I look...” another kiss to the tip of your fingers, his cock throbbing insistently against your entrance, weeping with need, “I promise.”

Nanami’s strong hands grip your hips almost possessively as you slowly sink down onto his length. A guttural moan- the most beautiful noise you’ve ever heard, tears from his throat.

Your pussy stretches deliciously to accommodate his impressive girth, your silken walls clinging to every ridge and vein. The joining of your bodies feels sacred to him. This isn’t just sex for Nanami, it’s a communion of souls… In these moments, when his cock is buried deep inside you, he believes you are as close to heaven as mortals can get...

Once fully seated inside of you, the two of you simply sit in silence while he closes his eyes and takes in all of you- wanting to be as close to you as he possibly can, wanting to make you feel safe and cared for…

The heat of your walls clamping down on him sooth his aching muscles, and the steady thrum of his heart against your very own makes you feel safe and protected.

As the minutes go by, the tension in his muscles slowly dissolves. His arms encircle your waist, his hand rubbing up and down your back, while his other arm slides beneath your neck, holding you close.

The feeling of your weight atop him, the softness of your body, the scent of your hair, and the way you sigh as his hands roam over your body is the medicine he needs to heal his mind, body, and soul ♡

#nanami kento #kento nanami #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #Nanami #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #x reader

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worstgenerationloser · 2 months ago

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,, New Year's kiss! '' (1)

Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, and Shanks x GN! Reader.

Summary... how would they react to a new years kiss from you?

Contains... a little fluffy, but also mostly foolishness from your favorite characters.

A/N: Might be a bit late for some people, I don't really celebrate things like this but the concept was cute to me.

Monkey D. Luffy

will absolutely not give you a single chance to even get a glimpse of his teeth let alone his mouth, he will be stuffing his face like there's no tomorrow.

as the countdown gets lower and lower with everybody chanting, couples holding onto eachother, you finally get your chance— Luffy manages to finish every last plate of food on the large table Sanji set, and Sanji seems too preoccupied with a special someone.

"Oh, hey—" He will notice you a second too late, and your lips have already met.

cheers erupt and a few more kiss, and Luffy is merely confused.

"What the hell was that for?" He raises a brow, your hand still placed gently on his cheek, Sanji turns around with a new red handprint on his face, and he's flabbergasted.

"WHY WITH LUFFY?!"

you're left embarrassed after everybody in the vicinity turns around, and Luffy doesn't seem too bothered, actually you don't even think he cared that you kissed him...

that's what you would have thought, if he wasn't already wrapping his stretched out arms around you, giggling like a madman.

"No clue why you kissed me, but I don't mind, aslong as it's you."

he's always been an odd boy, anyways.

Black Leg Sanji

he's already right next to you. don't fight me on this.

he's been planning it since the very beginning of this year, waiting so that he could end his year in the absolute best way possible

kissing you for the first and hopefully not the last time.

actually, he's very nervous, but he's made sure that he brushed his teeth and even though he was so nervous he needed a cigarette more than ever, he wouldn't dare taint his mouth with nicotine before kissing your lips, for you are a saint, the very epitome of—

"5...4...3..."

clearing his throat, he gently tilts your head towards him, his eyes softer than they have ever been before, and once you recognize him, he kisses you like you have never been before.

the soft and tender side of him immediately dissolves into nothingness the moment you kiss him back, because his nose blood immediately gushes all over the front of your clothes, and he's paralyzed and falls to the floor with his mouth wide open.

"Ah, what a blessing... The heavens have shown me such mercy and allowed me to experience such divinity from an angel themselves... My dear, I simply must kiss you again..."

he mumbled to himself for the next five minutes, Zoro was already plotting his next batch of insults for the perverted cook, and you were a little disappointed in Sanji for losing himself so soon.

however, when Sanji comes back to himself, he's immediately apologetic and cursing himself for acting a fool.

"Mon amour, I forgot myself for a moment. I assure you this time I will show you how utterly important it is to me that you remain in my heart— may I?"

he, once again, forgets himself and passes out.

Roronoa Zoro

he WILL be drinking sake, and is probably off to the side somewhere while the crew parties. he tries to act nonchalant but he kinda wants to party.

when you break off from the group of partygoers, he gets suspicious, and his face begins to redden. Sanji, the romantic he was, had been blabbering about a New Year's Kiss for the past three days, and Zoro began to wonder if this was it.

his hand grips the bottle a little tighter, and he reluctantly places the bottle down, the countdown growing near.

his hammering heart had not been calmed by the alcohol at all. he thinks it's gonna break out of his ribcage when he hears the crowd growing livelier.

"FIVE SECONDS!"

no, he wasn't gonna stand for this.

he ends up beating you to it, his mouth crashing onto yours one second before fireworks begin to blow up, yells and screams echoed into the sky, and a second before your lips would have found his.

as soon as his lips meet yours, they leave you like a thief in the night.

"Did you just—"

you tried to question him, but he picked up the bottle before you could get another word in, closing his eyes and listening to the sounds around him.

he was absolutely blushing, anybody could notice.

you decide that, this time, you'll be the first to kiss him.

Portgas D. Ace

he's in the middle of an entire crowd, surrounded by what must be 50 people. you have one mission— kiss him right on his lips as soon as the countdown reaches zero.

you manage to weave your way through the crowd of people, and stand close to Ace, but not right next to him so you don't give yourself away and subject yourself to knowing looks. (especially from marco)

unbeknownst to you, he was about to seek you out, so he's rather shocked when he spots you right next to him. well, that makes things much, much easier for him, then!

he cannot stop looking at you, and every time you try to peek at him, he's already staring at you.

the countdown was nearly finished but for a few seconds, and he's already turning to you, but you moved far, far quicker.

you manage to reach his lips just as every firework in existence goes off, and surrounding people laugh loudly into the new year, but moments later they notice your little spectacle with Ace.

he's broken the bottle in his hands with the sheer force of his grip.

you, naturally, with so many eyes on you, run off into the night.

"Come back! I wanna kiss you again!"

he runs after you alarmingly fast, and you know there's no room for any protests or excuses, not that you were going to either way.

your second kiss is much, much more tender... and the tender kisses echo far, far into the new year.

Red-Haired Shanks

Shanks was always one for festivities, and he was certainly not gonna miss out on a new years kiss, almost every year of his life somebody was kissing him, or he was kissing them.

unfortunately for you, he locked onto you sooner than you realized, the moment the party began he was watching anybody who got too close, noting that he should probably distract them somehow, so he could keep your lips on him and him only.

he's a greedy pirate, afterall.

he was calm and collected, laughing heartily all while sipping on his favorite alcohol from the West Blue, though those who were close enough knew he was plotting.

"TEN SECONDS EVERYONE!"

"I'll be back." he would whisper to Beck, but the silver-haired man knew better, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

he waltzes towards you with his head held high, his single arm itching to wrap around you, and you two manage to meet halfway.

he kisses you as if it meant nothing, and it looked every bit of casual to those who saw— but whoever was watching definitely wasn't feeling what you felt in the form of his lips, they didn't taste him the way you were, and they definitely weren't on the receiving end of his gentle touch, and you knew it wasn't casual.

he pulls away, though his body was reaching for yours as if you were two opposite poles of two different magnets, not wanting to leave you alone just yet.

"Just so you know, I'm really hoping this won't be our last kiss. How about I take you out for dinner?"

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ohisms · 4 months ago

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✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 . ( a collection of lyric prompts based on various works by florence + the machine . adjust phrasing as necessary , will likely be updated in the future . )

it's always darkest before the dawn .

we will find new saints to be canonized .

holy water cannot help you now .

the horses are coming , so you'd better run .

i never felt so alive and so dead .

i'm damned if i do , i'm damned if i don't .

i've always been in love with you .

what has been done cannot be undone .

i don't care whether i live or die .

we will never be afraid again .

i feel nervous in a way that can't be named .

it was so far a fall , but it didn't hurt at all .

the saints can't help me now .

i want to find you and tear out all of your tenderness .

sooner or later , the things you love , you lose .

run fast for your mother , run fast for your father .

i like to think , at least , things can't get any worse .

i would give all this and heaven too .

i was in the darkness , so darkness i became .

all my stumbling phrases never amounted to anything worth this feeling .

in order to get to the heart of things , sometimes you have to cut through .

i'll be dead before the day is done .

time after time , i think "oh lord , what's the use ?"

the heart is hard to translate , it has a language of its own .

it was all so strange and so surreal .

i'm not here looking for absolution .

now and then , it seems that life is just too much .

be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers .

if you could only see the beast you've made of me .

pretty little face stopped me in my tracks .

i'm aching to attack .

you want a revelation , some kind of resolution .

it's so easy to say it to a crowd , but it's so hard to say it to you aloud .

i don't want your heart , it leaves me cold .

i am no mother , i am no bride , i am king .

she's a cruel mistress , and a bargain must be made .

well , me and my ghosts had a hell of a time .

with all my education i can't seem to command my heart .

it's a conversation i just can't have tonight .

you left me in the dark . no dawn , no day .

jesus christ , it hurts .

a woman is a changeling , always shifting shape .

the very thing you're best at is the thing that hurts the most .

i'll cut your little heart out 'cause you made me cry .

i knew that somehow , i could find my way back .

a thousand armies couldn't keep me out .

i'm ready to suffer and i'm ready to hope .

you've got the love i need to see me through .

is this how it is ? is this how it's always been ?

you keep me up at night .

oh , tell me it's not over yet .

no walls can keep me protected .

i'm going out , i'm gonna drink myself to death .

time goes quicker between the two of us .

would you leave me if i told you what i'd done ?

now , there's no holding back .

oh god , you're gonna get it .

you need your rotten heart and dazzling pain like diamond rings .

in the dark , i can hear your heartbeat .

i never knew my killer would be coming from within .

i was never as good as i always thought i was , but i knew how to dress it up .

don't forget me when i let the water take me .

this world is a beast of a burden .

you know i still like you the most .

what a thing to admit .

sometimes i think it's getting better , then it gets much worse .

i'm on fire , but i'm trying not to show it .

you are the space in my bed .

would you have it any other way ?

things go wrong , no matter what i do .

you make a fool of death with your beauty .

now she sleeps with one eye open , and that's the price she'll pay .

they were there when i woke up this morning .

heaven help me , i need to make it right .

until i wrap myself inside your arms , i cannot rest .

when someone looks at me with real love , i don't like it very much .

would you leave me if i told you what i've become ?

i'm always running from something .

it's good to be alive , crying into cereal at midnight .

okay , but let's discuss this at the hospital .

i know everybody lets you down , and i'll do the same .

your heart is the only place i can call home .

i wish to remain nameless , and live without shame .

sometimes i feel like saying "lord , i just don't care" .

i would put my words into poetry for you if i knew how .

if they ever let me out , i'm really gonna let it out .

but know , in some way , i'm there with you .

i've been wandering the streets for days .

don't let them get you down , you're the best thing i've ever seen .

how could anything bad ever happen to you ?

you couldn't have it any other way .

it's the only way i can escape .

what a place to come from .

little did you know your home's really only a town you're just a guest in .

run for your children , for your sisters and brothers .

you can't choose what stays and what fades away .

you'll be sorry that you messed with us .

call me when you need me .

although we stick together , it seems we're stranging each other .

this is as good a place to fall as any .

in your place there were a thousand other faces .

here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my rope .

lay me down , let the only sound be the overflow .

there's no salvation for me now .

i'd do anything to make you stay .

what's in a name ? i still remain the same .

i've been taking chances , i've been setting myself up for the fall .

tell me what you want me to say .

you are the silence in between what i thought and what i said .

i've been a fool , and i've been blind .

i never knew daylight could be so violent .

regrets collect like old friends , here to visit for your darkest moments .

so you packed your bags just to wait out the shitstorm ?

my doe , my dear , my darling ...

you're my head , you're my heart .

everyone lets you down in this brief hole of a town .

i'm not giving up , i'm just giving in .

i've been losing sleep , i've been keeping myself awake .

sometimes i feel like throwing my hands up in the air .

the only solution was to stand and fight .

i don't know how it started , don't know how to stop it .

i'm done with my graceless heart .

i can never leave the past behind .

do they speak to you ? 'cause they speak to me too .

i thought that love was a kind of emptiness .

it's hard to dance with a devil on your back .

sometimes i wonder if i should be medicated .

every demon wants his pound of flesh .

tell me what all the sighing's about .

could you tell from the moment we met ?

i heard your voice as clear as day ... you told me i should concentrate .

all my girls have their lace and their crimes .

i like to keep some things to myself .

no one asks any questions here .

the feeling comes so fast and i can't control it .

you came over me like some holy rite .

i was screaming out a language i had no idea existed before .

i thought that love was on stage , giving yourself away to strangers .

leave all your love and your longing behind , you can't carry it with you if you want to survive .

i thought that love was in the drugs , but the more i took the more it took away .

i never wanted anything from you , except everything you had and what's left after that too .

i don't want your future , i don't need your past . one grand moment is all i ask .

#as requested !!#rp meme #inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #rp inbox prompts #lyric prompts #lyric meme #ohisms

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servicpop · 4 months ago

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kinktober week 4 — impact play vallen ( ceo oc ) x bttm male reader

ⓘ riding crop use , basically pain kink , punishment , short

It started with dinner, you accidentally spilling red wine on Vallen's navy suit, — though he wasn't mad at all, he could easily afford five more if he wanted to — breaking a cup while trying to make yourself a drink, and then your overly clingy behaviour in his office while he was trying to finish paperwork for the night. Your audible groaning didn't help the countless pages of useless but important information he had to hand write.

You were draped over the couch Vallen had against one of the walls in his office, your head laying off the armrest turning your vision upside-down. Per usual, Vallen was sat at his desk with a pen in hand, quietly scribbling whatever he needed onto one piece of paper before moving to the other.

“Vallen, I'm so lonely can you please pay your boyfriend some attention?” There it was again, your whiny tone and your pouty lips chirping off about something Vallen didn't even care to listen to. But, just hearing your voice again broke his last straw.

Vallen abruptly pushed himself away from the desk, standing up with his back faced to you. From the absence of words, you knew he was pissed, and that was enough for you to sit up properly and fix up your posture. You heard the scraping of wood against wood as Vallen pulled open the bottom drawer from his desk, pulling out a long black stick with a fanned out edge.

The moment you saw him slap the edge against his palm, making that crackle noise, you realised that he was holding a riding crop.

The CEO turned around to face you, striding towards the couch where you sat with each footstep accompanied with the clack of his shoes against the polished wooden floors. There wasn't a frown on his face, nor did he have a monotone expression; Vallen wore an unsettling, sweet smile.

“Sweetheart I'm sure you're aware of how busy I am,” he cooes, carding his fingers through your hair, tucking back any fly-aways behind your ear. You shudder from the oddly soft touches despite the vein thats straining on his forehead. He brings the black riding crop to your cheek, gliding the leather along your skin.

“All you've done today was annoy me, isn't it time I teach you a lesson, hm?” His voice was dangerously smooth, like faux fur on an expensive coat. You don't have the heart to reply so you just swallow your words.

“Lay down across my lap,” Vallen drops an octave and the smile drops from his face. He leans back against the velvet couch, a knuckle pressed against his cheek as he waits for you to bend down. He looks down at you as if you were a tiny mouse and he was a cat with sharpened claws.

You would be a fool if you didn't obey, so you did, almost instantly laying down over his knees. He brings your hands behind your back, slipping off the tie he was wearing to bind your wrists together in a tight bow. You were just like a present on Christmas, bound with a little bow and waiting for Vallen to tear apart.

His fingers slid underneath the back of your pants, brushing against the small of your back before he pushed them down all the way to your ankles. He didn't bother fully taking them off.

He brought the riding crop to the mound of your ass, caressing your skin with small circles before he brought it up and slammed it down on your tender flesh. A surprised yelp tumbled out of your mouth as you flinched upon impact, wincing at the sting.

“Count, prince,” He corrected, using his free hand to slip down the crack and to your puckered hole. “Use your words.”

The tips of his fingers nudged at your opening, pushing past your tight rim to slip one finger in. He brought the crop up again and smacked it down, sending ripples through your now reddened cheek.

“T—Two,” you manage to choke out between whimpers. The sting made you squirm, instinctively trying to apply pressure to the 'wound.' As your hands attempt to wriggle out of its confinements, Vallen smacks your wrists with the tool, earning another pained gasp from you.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment while his fingers push up against your pelvic bone, sinking his finger into your tight channel.

“You're getting so red,” He chuckled hollowly, tracing the red marks on your skin with the leather, “I told you, it really is your color.”

Vallen leaned his head down to kiss your wrists before he moved the crop over your ass again. He delivered another smack, the sound piercing through the otherwise silent room. Your knees instinctively bend up as your legs squirm from the pain similar to a burn under your skin.

Vallen takes the opportunity to slip a second finger inside, his ring finger accompanying his middle. He doesn't move them, he keeps his fingers completely still inside of you, letting your muscles contract and clench down on them with each hit to your sensitive skin.

“Three,” you sob out, tears brimming your eyes as the pain builds up. His fingers are tormenting you, buried so deep that just a slight nudge of his fingers could get you writhing in pleasure. Vallen sets the riding crop down for a minute, sliding his fingers under your adams apple to lift your face up.

“Poor boy, let's switch it up.” Vallen's voice is full of sugar, like molasses dripping off his tongue. It made your throat clog and your stomach ache as if you really did eat something overly sugary.

He hoists you up by your torso, letting your knees bend and your calves press against the back of your thighs in a sitting position. He marvels at your pink cock flush against your lower stomach, letting out a small condescending chuckle.

“Why are they closed, dear?” he tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly as he places a hand on each of your knees, delicately pulling them apart. He fishes the riding crop from the couch, holding it firmly in his palms; he doesn't do anything with it just yet. His free hand makes it's way to cradle your cheek, dipping his thumb past your pink lips and into your mouth. You're sitting taller than him at the moment due to the fact that you were on your shins while he had both feet flat on the floor.

Vallen lets you suck his finger for a second and he can feel your warm, wet tongue over the pad of his thumb. He looks up at you with such bedroom eyes, dipping his head down to press a quick kiss to your chest covered by the thin fabric of your shirt. Your body tenses up at the light touch to your now hardened nipples, and Vallen takes advantage of the distraction.

He brings the leather of the riding crop to your tip, thwacking it with enough force to get you to whine and flinch but not enough to wholeheartedly hurt you. He lets the crop linger on the slit of your cockhead before he lifts it up slowly to peek at the underside of it.

“You're making such a mess” he muses, observing the dampness of the flap from the pre-cum bubbling from your urethra. It's smeared all over the material, creating a sticky mess all over yourself and the tool.

He uses his index finger to slide along the slit, gathering all the fluid on his finger before he shamelessly wipes his fingers clean on your stomach.

“How many is that now?” he questions you while pulling your shirt up and above your head, revealing your perky chest, untainted with red as of now.

“Four,” you hiccup, the pain made you fidgety but the pleasure kept you grounded. You saw the gradual color change from a lighter pink to red on your skin. You let out a choked moan when Vallen smacks your dick with the crop again, sending shockwaves of pain through your veins.

It hurts so bad that it's good.

Vallen's non-dominant hand seemed to be contradictory to the one holding the tool. He gently caressed and patted the supple skin of your chest, soothing you with honeyed touches. Vallen leans his face in closer to your skin, littering small kisses over your clavicle and latched his mouth onto one nipple.

“V—Vallen, don't,” you whine out, struggling with your restraints as you attempted to try and push him back. He knew you were weak where your chest was, and it was confirmed with the way your breathing elevated.

Your words fell to dead ears nonetheless, his hand gingerly twisting and flicking your buds while he kissed the other. The riding crop in his hands dragged up from the bottom of your stomach all the way to the nipple Vallen's mouth was previously tormenting.

He places the flap flat along your pink bud before hitting it harshly. Your body instinctively jerked back and a pained cry punched out of your throat as your chest slowly reddened.

“Too harsh? Is it too sensitive up here?” He feigned concern, cooing at you like a child. He moves his hand to rub your nipple soothing before delivering a lighter smack to it again. It was all raw and achy; you'd definitely need to place bandages over it for the next few days from how sensitive it'll get.

The dragging of leather down and up your length so teasingly was undoubtedly kindling a fire in the pit of your stomach. The cold leather slicked with your own fluid was so erotic, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin from the ticklish feeling.

“Val— wait, wait–!” Your words are all chopped up as Vallen slaps the area where your balls meet the underside of your cock, the hit sending ripples down your spine, making you bend forward and slam your legs shut. The tingling sensation was enough to pull you off the edge and you could feel your thighs convulse and that familiar feeling of an orgasm well up in your balls.

“That's my good boy,” Vallen's seductive tone rings through your ears and you're wriggling in the tie wrapped around your wrists, letting out a muffled whine through your throat. Your eyelashes flutter rapidly before your body can't hold it in anymore as you empty out your load.

The weight lifts from your balls and leaves you panting, body slumped and aching. The afterfeeling of the slaps started to sting and tingle.

You can't even bring your mind to realise the mess you made on Vallen's clothing, white splayed out across his thighs. Through dazed eyes you see him move his hands behind your back, untying you from the grasp of his tie.

“You won't bother me while I'm working again?” he asks, and he expects you to reply with a 'yes.' He slips a hand to your cheek, wiping away any stray tears that escaped from your tear ducts.

“I've learnt my lesson,” you mumble against the warmth of his palm, nuzzling into the affectionate gesture.

“Good.”

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