#fic: services requested

[penvisions]

services requested {chapter two}

Pairing: Older! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: With the flourish of a contract that contains a section titled 'Intimacy Clause' and a quirk of your lips, you turn Joel Miller's life upside down.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: no outbreak au, modern au, age gap (joel is mid 50's, reader is late 20's / early 30's), reader is more of an oc written in the x reader style, reader is described to have a scar and tattoos, mommy vibes, reader see's joel and knows she wants to provide for him, joel is older and tired, his life beginning to slow as his body aches, power dynamics, sexual undertones, instant connection, mutual pining, flirting, casual touches, mutual attraction, angst, family drama, strained family dynamics, mention of pregnancy (not reader or joel), verbal threat, argumentative language, joel and tommy y'all good god, think that's it!

Fic Notes: please, if you have any qualms about the setting of this fic, do not reblog or comment with hate. my dms are open for discussion if you feel like you need to say anything. let's be respectful going into a new year, there are ample warnings and you are in charge of the content you consume

A/N: hi, i'm back with chapter two for y'all! ♡

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You can’t help but feel a bit shy around him, with a contract being looked over by one of your friends who works in the more…lucrative business of strip clubs and the party scene. She’s around the same age, working alongside the owner of one of the classier and legitimate night clubs, where she acts as a legal representative for the girls that work there as well as others who come through the doors looking for a little adult fun.

She had arrived just as Joel was leaving for the day, her eyes widening as she watched him toss a out a bag of garbage into the outside bin on his way out of the door and off the job for the day. He had nodded politely at her, though his lips didn’t lift quite as much at the corners as they did for you. Her squeal the second the front door was loud, and you immediately shushed her and clamped your hands over her mouth while peering through the blinds to see if he heard it. Thankfully he hadn’t turned at the rather alarming sound as he loaded up into his truck and took off down the street.

“That’s the Mr. Miller I keep hearing about?!”

That was days ago, and the renovation is in the last stages. New walls are up, drywall and mudding complete. All that was left was the kitchen downstairs and the tiling in the bathroom. Painting was tomorrow, once the colors were picked out too.

Today you were going to tag along with the older man to the supply store to look over tiles, none of the ones in the catalogue he had left on your desk in the study popped out at you. He’s been working hard, to get everything done on schedule. Your parent’s return is in two weeks and he’s determined to have it all polished and shining by the time you head out to get them from the airport.

Professionality and friendship seem to be a good mix for you. Calling him Mr. Miller when he reminds you to call him Joel, him lingering at the end of each day to make sure he gives you a run down of what got done and what will be on the agenda of tasks for the next one. He playfully calls you ma’am in return, though he uses your name sometimes too.

A running joke of sorts, between the two of you. But also, it’s not really a joke at all. But a way to draw an invisible line- no physical contact has happened since that day your composure cracked and fell into tiny pieces around you alongside your hot tears. But you swear you can feel his eyes trailing after you when you’re working around the house.

You’re both jokingly picking out the most garish colors and saying they would look perfect in the living room, the bathroom, the upstairs bedrooms. His own thick fingers brushing yours as you both huff laughter and reach for new swatches. The attendant behind you is smiling at the scene, younger than you and stuck at such a boring job of mixing colors for people that seem too focused to have fine like you two are. But the bubble of easy going fun is broken by a man donned in a grey sweat pants and a plain tee.

He calls your name, in question. As if he doesn’t quite want to bother you if you don’t hear him. But you do, and so does Joel. With laughter still on your tongue, you turn with a wide smile in the man’s direction.

“Micheal! Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you.” You don’t move to shake his hand, something Joel’s stomach flips over noticing. You keep the tight curl of your fingers over the swatch of blinding yellow he had jokingly suggested for the kitchen that you had pried from his own grip. Your long nails, done up in a soft pink this time had scraped against his skin and nearly short circuited his thoughts. But they’re back now as he watches you interact with this random man.

“I just wanted to say hi and thank you again for the session. It was such a dream, honestly.” The man’s words are genuine, his expression one of open awe. It has Joel stiffening behind you, aware that this may be awkward for him.

“I’m so glad, it’s always a fun challenge when someone comes to me with an idea like that. But I’m glad we could execute it perfectly for you.” Behind you, you can feel Joel stiffen. His entire body goes rigid and you sneak a look at him over your shoulder, but he’s seemingly fascinated by the color samples in his hands…

The rest of the trip around the store is strained, Joel won’t look you in the eye and you feel like he’s avoiding brushing up against you. He assures you he can load everything up into the back of the truck so you’re stewing in the passenger seat waiting for him to finish. The ride back isn’t nearly as happy and easy-going as the ride there and you can’t get the words out to ask if everything is okay, your fight or flight triggered and flight is your go to nowadays. It didn’t used to be…

He gets to unloading as you hide yourself away in the office, sketching app open and stylus in your immobile hand as your back twinges painfully. The scar dug into the skin there feeling like it was just carved your mind replays the event on a loop. You can faintly hear the soft squelch of the paint rollers working, an easy day of work all in all.

But he doesn’t come to bid you a good afternoon, nor does he seem to stop for lunch.

Too caught up in your memories, you sit in the locked office until well after the sun goes down. Reaching out to your assistant to reschedule your consultations booked for that afternoon and evening with a quick text the second you got back from the store…

Two weeks fly by, your little spell invigorating you after wallowing.

It wasn’t productive and it hadn’t helped anything, but it was necessary. Processing and resting, giving your mind and body the chance to work through something is important. Realistically you know that, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Anxiety and trauma are always something you will have to struggle with, no matter how big of a name you make for yourself.

The walkthrough in the morning goes okay, almost back to the comfortable and borderline flirtatious camaraderie you and Joel had established early on. Everything was perfect, the colors, the tiling, the patterns, all of it amazing and beyond what you had expected. Even if you actively watched Joel create the cabinets with his hands, seen the sketches of what he envisioned for the space based on your words and description.

“I really appreciate all the work you put into the renovation, it came out so amazing.” You shuffle the papers in your hand, knocking them against the top of the desk to straighten them out before stapling the bunch of them together. Reaching for an envelope, you place the card you had taken out in his name- attached to your expenses account that you used for your own supplies. That was secured to the top of the stack with a binder clip. “And I was wondering if I could hire you.”

"What do you mean, you want to hire me? I'm already workin' a job for you." His confusion is clear, brows furrowed and lips slightly pursed. His hands are secure on the arms of the chair he occupies. He only needs one or two more days of cleaning and wiping everything down, ensuring no dust from the construction work lingers, no nails or screws are prominent, sand down a few edges here and there. And then of course he offered to help put away what appeared to be a whole new kitchen in the form of pots and pans, cutlery and serve wear, fancy glasses and a set of ceramic mugs that looked hand painted. Everything had come in boxes throughout his workdays, piling up in the garage that contained most of your stuff from when you moved back.  

"For your...services, Mr. Miller. To be called upon at any time." You try to keep your excitement from showing too much, not wanting to weird him out or make him feel any more awkward with what you are just about to do. You’ve never offered someone such a thing before….to be their sole provider and essentially a sugar momma. Though you did explicitly claim there was no pressure or obligation to be intimate in exchange for the funds you wanted to provide him. He’s just a handsome man whose lived a full, busy life and you wanted to offer him a much deserved break.

But as soothing as you keep your voice and even as you keep your tone, based on the way his face falls from a small grin to a frown and his demeanor shifts from friendly curiosity to irritated, you see that you’ve already failed.  

“Listen, I don’t know what kinda man you think I am but I don’t run in the same circles as you. And as flattered as I am that you think-“ He looks a little flustered, obviously upset enough for his face to contort into something you would call grumpy. Would normally tease him about if you walked into a room and saw him making the same expression as he looked down at something or over some blueprints.

“What kind of circles do you think I run in?” You cut him off, unwilling to let his mind run away and taint the professional friendship you two have been cultivating over the last month. The incident at the hardware store crops up in your mind and suddenly everything clicks into place. He most likely thinks you work in the same business as your friend.

“You uh- well, you dress kinda fancy all the time and you’re off during the daytime. Always got your hair and nails lookin’ nice….kinda figured you-“

“I’m not a stripper or dancer. Nor do I do porn or escort services.” Your brows furrow, it should be funny- the mistaken identity, but the truth is that it hurts a little.

You lean back, unable to quell the unease of even entertaining the idea of offering him a contract if he felt so strongly about what he thought you were asking of him- of his assumption of who you were.

There was nothing wrong with anyone who chose that lifestyle and employment, but you had made a name for yourself doing what you did best. The constant under the breath and snide comments about how you carry yourself is the only reason for your success still stings. The notion that you use your looks to get clients, that it’s the only reason they seek you out; it completely diminished the passion and love you pour into every single job you take on for a long while. And Joel is voicing it right alongside the countless others that have before him. “My services are in the art industry. I’m a tattoo artist.”

You know that your eyes are focused, not quite on him but on the curls that still frame his temples. Too long, as you very well know from one of your casual conversations. It’s…not a good feeling to hear the words so many have said before coming from him. He’s been a constant in your life since the beginning of the renovation and he’s seen parts of you that no one has in a long time. For him to openly share his thoughts causes a tightening in your chest. A twinge in your back along the sensitive skin of the scar that sits there as a constant reminder to be careful.

“Mr. Miller, I can assure you that I’m not trying to get you to do anything untoward, there might be a little paragraph in there but you dictate the parameters of the contract. Completely. Everything is up to you and you certainly don’t have to accept it or even entertain the thought if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” Joel feels like a fool, a damned fool for letting his mind run away from him and his tongue for blurting out probably one of the most insensitive things he could’ve said in response to a new job offer from you. He can see the way you withdraw slightly, probably offended but trying to keep your composure. You’re too good for him and this just proves it even further.

“Assumed. Yes, I can see that now. How things look, maybe this was a bad idea.”

Fuck. No, no, no- he doesn’t think it’s a bad idea to offer him another job but…his mental calendar is full for the next six weeks. One job scheduled after this one, his expenses a little tied up after that with his birthday coming up soon- he had told Sarah he would come visit with Ellie, he hasn’t seen where she’s settled with her boyfriend. It…it’s a lot to handle on his own. Keeping track of one rotating crew with him and then two others working on other jobs around the county.

“No, I- sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m old okay? I don’t know what I’m talking about but the only services I offer are contracting and repair work." He brings a hand up to run a thumb underneath his bottom lip, eyes taking in the flutter of your lashes as his apology soaks into your skin. The almost...yearning look about your soft features. Younger than he is, in full control of those should you choose to lay that look upon. He's sure the boys your age would fall over themselves to see it again, to see more. Hell, he's ready to fall over himself and he's surely twice your age. “I’m not sure how useful I’d be if-“

“I’m in the process of obtaining permits to build on an empty city block. Two buildings. Two shop fronts. I figured you would be able to help out, but I understand if it’s not something you’re interested in. Really.”

And now you’re backpedaling, he feels like such an asshole for what he said. You…you’re an artist. A tattoo artist and really, he doesn’t know how he hadn’t picked up on that. You’ve decorated your skin with beautiful pieces, the sketchbook and tablet you’re always scribbling away on. The mention of clients, long hours, charges, the constant ink stains he sees on your clothes when you get home from work…

He doesn’t want to turn you down, can’t really turn you down. You hadn’t batted an eye at the quote he had given you for the work on your parent’s house. Nor had you argued anytime something needed an extra cushion to get the better quality option of supplies. When he had offered a discount, you had waved him off but he planned to do it anyway. You were sweet, you were considerate and he knows he wouldn’t hear the end of it if his brother found out he had a soft spot for you. But honestly? With the way his brother had been pulling away, taking on less jobs- answering less calls and responding with messages at odd hours or even the summary and final check stapled to paperwork of the rare job he takes on is the only form of communication he’s been getting from the man. So, who cares what he thinks about a discount, when it was Joel’s company.

One he had been fully prepared to hand over to his brother once upon a time. To help straighten him out, give him a hand in a world that demanded so much from him as a soldier and then turned its back on him as an honorably discharged veteran.

You take it all in stride, keeping your composure as best as you can, shoving all the negative feelings down. He’s a good man, he just…he just assumed like he said. Blinking away the unease and slightly awkward tinge to the air you tell him that you understand what he’s saying. He would be perfect for the job you want to offer him, even still. Joel’s ears turn pink at the top, his throat bobbing as he sits there and takes in all the kind words you have for him- even after he basically called you an adult entertainer asking after him to partake in…. something he wasn’t even sure he had a clear idea of.

All so he could see that smile grace your lips and see a flash of teeth he can't help but stop picturing what they would look like holding tight over your own bottom lip, depraved sounds slipping between them as he pressed tight and heavy over you. As his hips slam into yours, his co-

Jesus, he needs a minute to get a handle on himself. Everything is all consuming with you, feelings bubble up, urges strike him strong enough to wear down any thought of resistance. You make him feel like he’s seen, like he’s important, like he matters. It’s no wonder his little crush on you has manifested.

He shakes his head, aware of the watching gaze you don't let up from him as you sit serenely at your desk. The top of your shirt dipped low as you lean forward to rest your chin in the cup of your hands, taunting him. What little power he feels from his larger frame, his years over you, his skills he knows you don't share- they diminish as he glances down to the new skin before meeting your eyes again. You’re too enamoring, too ingrained into his mental space to feel like he’s got any sort of control- even if the working relationship is good, not awkward and even friendly like he wanted it to be.

Small conversations, coffee some mornings as you hang around and watch him place tiles into designs that you request, take out boxes with either your name or his scribbled on them and scattered around the coffee table in the living room. The guys never stay for lunch, opting to go out and get some fresh air.

You tilt your head just a bit, and like a match catching, friction igniting it- his stomach jolts as he pictures that same look aimed up at him as you sit on your knees in front of him. Good god, his mind needs a good rinse. Especially if he’s going to consider accepting the more than generous offer on guaranteed continued work.

"I have a company to run, can't exactly turn down an offer for a job."

"This would be more of an... open-ended contract. I would reach out for any repairs your capable hands are able to work on. From mechanics of vehicles, to construction work, to repairs on established properties. New properties that waiting on permits, like I mentioned. I’m also finalizing the sale on a personal property, so I would need help with getting that up to code as well.  I would pay you a going rate of..."

Joel's mind goes blank, the amount offered per week is astronomical. As much a single job he’s taking one at a time with how he’s got to schedule everything. The same amount he would earn from weeks, if not months of working day in and day out. The way you go on about how even if you didn't have any jobs for him during a week, he would still be compensated. His meals provided and a company card with his name plastered on it in silver on a slick black is flashed at him atop a neat stack of papers with bold print.

"For you to look over, Mr. Miller. There is no rush, nor does the offer expire. Please get back to me at your convenience."

"Uh, well-" He isn't sure what to think, how to feel at the moment. The offer too good to be true, the amount of money would allow him to only work for you. His own clients are willing to pay for his work but not to wait for the time frames he's been giving lately. It's only him in command of three crews, they can only work so fast, and he's seeing them get poached by other companies with better hours, more pay.

Joel's made a name for himself with 'Miller Contracting'. But as the years go on, his hopes to pass it on to his younger brother become a more silly notion than something that could happen. A person who has begun to see his life toward a different path, one of less hours and more focus on his wife and unborn baby.  He sighs, knowing that the thoughts would circle endlessly in his mind should he let them begin. The whole reason he has the job for you now is because his brother bailed…

"There is absolutely no pressure, just wanted to extend the offer. I have found that...other men have embellished their skill sets in order to receive the same offer. Jokingly claim they don’t care but then become petulant when it’s obvious it’s not going to happen. But you have the skills, you are competent."

"I'll-I'll get back to you, ma'am."

"The number at the top of the contract, it's an all hours one. Feel free to reach out with any questions or concerns, any stipulations or changes you'd like to make. I hope you have a very good rest of the day, Mr. Miller." You smile at him, eyes bright as you watch the way his throat bobbed with a harsh swallow.

Later that evening, two drinks deep and another poured into his cup, he settles into the worn leather of his couch with the contract in his hand. He's flipping through the many pages, preparing to read through it when a certain word catches his eye, making him choke on the drink swallow he had just taken.

Intimacy Clause

His skin is suddenly hot, fueled by the liquor he's already ingested, his thoughts turning to filth as a flash of pleasure flares brightly in his belly. Oh....he's certainly in over his head. He's heard of this- what was it called? Sugar daddy dynamic, but if he's the one getting the benefits and wages in exchange that would make him- no, he doesn't want to think about it that way. It's a job offer, a working contract.

He's got half a mind to deny the contract outright, but he can't help the way his eyes devour the words in front of him, from the first page to the last. It’s the perfect opportunity to keep you in his life, a way to keep you as close as his heart begs him too. Friendship something he wants, but the appearance of what it looks like on the outside bothering him still as he realizes how much older he is. Sure, he could run into you when around your parents and at neighborhood gatherings…but if he were to be your personal contractor. Your go-to man for construction and repair work, for…anything really- now that would really make him feel like he was worth the attention you seem to want to dot on him.

His phone is in his hand, thick fingers dialing the number you had provided, no regard for the late hour of the night. He's downing the last bit of his drink, grunting around the sting of it as he hears the ringing loud in his ear.

His heart is beating heavy, slowly, anticipation making him feel like there are far too many rings for there to be an answer on the other side of the line. He's about to cancel it when there's a click and your melodic voice greets him, pleasure flaring up in his belly again.

"Been thinking about me, Mr. Miller?" The coy tone causes a shiver to run down his spine.

Oh shit, he's definitely in over his head.

He looks good, but he doesn’t feel good. You can tell by the grimace marring his plush lips into a frown and the tension he holds in his entire body. Joel is casually walking across the street to where you’re sitting on the porch with a cup of steaming coffee. The house is being cleaned by the company you hired to detail everything. Not that it was particularly dirty, the crew had helped you to dust and wipe everything down as well as possible. It was more of an extra step for your parents to know that you want them to come back from a well-deserved vacation with no worries to even think of. Groceries are stocked in the fridge and pantry, bottles smoothies and juices at the ready for them to slip back into their lives.

It would be your last morning here, fresh from a late night at work and then doing inventory of all your supplies. A huge order loaded up on your phone that you needed to place once you settled into the home you had just finalized the sale on last week. It was finally ready for you to move in, though you suspected the work you wanted to enlist Joel’s help with would take some time.

But you both had it now, in spades. To be with each other, to work alongside each other.

He’s in a pullover sweatshirt that allows for the collar and hem of his shirt underneath to peak out. A little large on him, but not slouchy. He looks like he’s trying to not put too much pressure on his joints and you quickly set a reminder on your phone to schedule a massage for him sometime in the next week. A little gift to help ease some stress. You could use one too, you think as you see the barrage of missed calls from a blocked number. The area code for the city you had just moved from…

“Hey there, rough morning?” His voice is coarse, filling in the humid morning air with a little more warmth as he approaches and stands at the bottom of the porch steps. He’s got on a pair of glasses…and you’re thoughts are swirling in the gutter as you imagine him staring down through the lenses at you as you kneel before him…

Swallowing the sip you just took, you tilt your head toward the other side of the patio lounge you’re on, legs curled up beneath you. Large cardigan keeping you comfortable over a pair of jeans and a tank top. There’s ink stained on the front, the collar dipping low as you had moved around to finish a giant custom piece for most of the evening.

“It’s been alright, can’t really call it ‘morning’ if I haven’t been to sleep yet,” You feel a thrill down your spine as he sits, his thigh brushing up against your bare knee where a hole in the denim exposes it. You don’t move and he doesn’t shy away either. He’s got the thick stack of papers in his hand, but the envelope with the check for his renovation and the card with his name on it are gone.

“We can make this quick, then, if you want to get to bed.”

“No need, I’m moving today and then work later.” You offer him your mug and he gingerly takes it from you to slurp the sweetened and creamed coffee inside. His thick moustache catches a few droplets and as your eyes linger, his tongue sneaks out to capture them. “I’ll catch a nap in the afternoon, no need to worry, Mr. Miller.”

“Sweetheart, told you to call me Joel.” He hands you back the mug. His brown eyes catch yours and you feel your entire body go still, worry igniting you that he’s about to tell you he’s thought the contract over and wants nothing to do with it…

“Especially if I’m gonna hand this back over with my signature scrawled on it.”

“Really?” Your eyes widen as you turn to face him completely.

“You seem surprised.” He’s laughing as he flips to the last page to show you and it releases all the tension in your chest. He’s got such a good laugh, hearty and full. You want to do everything you can to hear it more, to give him a reason to laugh more. More time to focus on what he wants, not worried about keeping up with big projects that take so much time to complete. Not that he minds, like he’s assured you, he loves the work and wants to do it. But it’s getting to be a lot to handle, his brother is finding himself a different path- something he mentioned when you had asked after the other Miller brother and why he hadn’t been the one to take on your job.

“I was a little worried, it’s not exactly a normal thing to be offered. But like I said, everything is up to you, the jobs are the jobs, the work is still work, everything else is completely up to you.”

“Don’t think anything can be considered normal these days, but,” He’s reaching to place his palm on your knee in a comforting gesture. “I could honestly really use the break you’re lending me. Gives me the chance to be more present in the girls’ lives. I’ve got one last job I’ve already taken a deposit on, a small trip out to see Sarah and then I’m all yours. It’s a generous offer and I’d be a fool to turn it down.”

“What’s the last job?”

“An above ground pool and deck, shouldn’t take more than two weeks. Give me until next month, then we can get everything settled. If that’s okay?”

“I don’t mind how long it takes, I was going to pay you the first month upfront, even if you didn’t want to do this. As a bonus of sorts, for the amazing job you did here.” You wave your hand behind you toward the house. The cleaning crew is already busy, their chatter and light music filling the home with life.

“You really are somethin’, you know that?” He’s tipping his head down, looking at his scuffed and paint stained boots. Pink tinging his ears as he does so, the fingers over your knee digging in and then releasing in move you aren’t sure he’s aware of.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller. And I want you to see that, you deserve the chance for a slower life, for a life you want. Now let’s go.” You gulp down the last of the coffee and set it down on the patio table to your right. The contract slides into the bag at your feet and you’re standing.

“Where we goin’?” He’s sill got those damn thick rimmed glasses on and he looks good enough to eat as he looks up at you from his spot still on the whicker couch. He hasn’t gotten up alongside you, unsure what’s going to happen now that the paperwork is officially signed and accepted- a date for the next month picked out for him to officially be on your payroll. As a sugar baby. Well, a contracted workman but the reality of the situation isn’t just that.

But you do, you’re going to take care of him. Exactly like you promised.

“To the salon. You said you’ve been putting off a trim.”

“We don’t have-“

“Joel. You said you don’t much like your hair as long as it is, it’s an easy fix.”

“I don’t…got a meeting with my brother this afternoon.” He shuffles on his feet, boots scuffing the new coat of sealant on the porch he put on with his own two hands. “Gonna tell him about the business.”

“It’s only ten, we’ll be done by then.” You go to grip his shoulder with a light hand. Your nails grazing his arm on the way up. The reassuring smile you give him melts him, you can see it. “I promise.”

A short drive later and a more than enthusiastic interaction in the industrial and modern looking salon, Joel sits with a grimace into a chair and lets the hairdresser fasten the cape securely over his throat. The place is so fancy, certainly not the master bathroom or the corner barbershop tucked into the end of a strip mall that he normally frequents. He’s tense and you feel bad so you hold up a finger to motion for the woman to pause for a moment. She smiles at you, noticing his unease as well.

“Hey,” You whisper as you come to stand behind him. He’s watching you with his dark eyes through the mirror, noticing the grays that make up most of his facial hair, steel tone that gives away how dark his hair had been once upon a time. His curls too, are the same dark gray intermixed with ash strands. Thick and erring on the side of ringlets if they should grow any longer. Your fingers gently scratch at the back of his head as you dig them into his hair, thumbs massaging up the back of his neck in a soothing gesture.

His hair is as soft as you imagined, like silk against your skin and you hum a little as you notice his eyes flutter at your ministrations. His shoulders drop and he let’s out a deep breath he must’ve been holding in.

“It’s just a trim, okay? Whatever you want, however you like it. You deserve it and you’ll feel so much better, I promise.”

And goddamn, if it’s not hard to keep promising things to one Joel Miller.

He’s so flighty, so nervous when he doesn’t know what to expect in a situation like this. Out of his depth and a little uncomfortable with the first outing as you go-to guy for all things. A paid companion of sorts. A strong contrast to the confidence he struts around with and moves through a space he’s working on, through the hardware store, as he drives his truck expertly throughout the suburban and city streets.

And when his eyes open back up, he’s returning your gentle smile with one of his own. Completely as ease. It makes your heart speed up and warmth pool in your middle.

Joel’s not nervous, but he’s not exactly thrilled to share the news of his company becoming an- contracted one he guesses would be the right term. One that has the sole purpose of fulfilling your every need, no matter now small or large a scale the project or task is. A way to provide for you and be a friend to you, to keep you close like he can’t seem to resist. He’s made peace with the decision, he’s comfortable in his decision. But his brother is…

“Why didn't you come to me, brother? I would've- I would've done anything to help, hell, I would've jumped back into working jobs everyday with you if that's what it took to save the company.” Tommy is certainly playing the part of the concerned younger sibling, professing empty words that Joel knows he wants to mean. But he doesn’t. He’s been struggling since coming back from his last tour and Joel’s done just about all he could to help in that department. Up to and including helping him with financial stuff and hiring a district attorney to help him when it had gone too far…

“Tommy, c'mon.” Joel tries to keep his tone in check, but Tommy is more than a little upset that he hadn’t known how stressed his brother was. How could Joel have told him? When could he have even told him, this is the first time to two of them have actually sat down and not just traded half conversations over the phone or even at the sad excuse of an office rented for the business. It was easier for them to work out of a trailer they would park at job sites, more secure for them to have eyes on the space that helped them to operate, well Joel to operate.

“Don't you do that, act like I don't care.” Wide brown eyes are turned toward him, the same ones that worked to get him to take the blame for too many eaten cookies before dinner, a broken lamp when they were too reckless running around the house, or when paired with a wobbling lip and tears that Joel would take make sure no one but him got into trouble. The big brother, always looking out for his younger one.

“I couldn't get you to even answer the damn phone, let alone work anymore 'n you wanted to.” A harsh scrub of his palm against his chin rustles the stubble there. Honest and reality checking words simmer in his belly, heating him up from the inside out and he realizes that there’s no stopping them from bubbling up.

He’s hurt, dammit. By the fact that after everything he’s done, his brother still decides to be selfish in a way he wished he could be proud of. Family is important, but the woman that Tommy is choosing over everything else…It just doesn’t sit well with him. “The business is good, just getting a little back logged and people aren’t willing to wait that long for certain work. It’s tough with just me and the crews, really expected to have a little more help.”

“That's not fair, I got...I got things I'm taking care of, Maria she-“

“This isn't about her, Tommy! This is about you doin' whatever the hell you wanna do, just like fucking always. your whole damn life, you've been like this.” He feels the words surge through him, spurred on by the sheer contrast of interacting with you and then his brother. One was family and yet…you treated him with more respect, you seemed to care enough to offer him a way to support himself better, to provide for him, to help him.

And the man across from him is doing nothing but making excuses as to why he hasn’t offered more.

“Joel, if I had known-“

“But you didn't! Didn’t even bother to ask how all the jobs you kept bailing on got done, how they got managed into my already full schedule. You know Ellie is thinkin’ of moving out because she thinks she’s too loud in a house that’s quiet when I’m not there and even more so when I am? She feels like a burden on me because I’m workin’ so damn hard and I pass out the second I get home.”

“Ellie’s an adult, but I’m sorry the work has you feeling like an absent father. Maybe you shouldn’t have-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Tommy. I love that girl with my whole fucking heart. I made the decision to transition to contracted work, to help out a friend with her business and personal projects. She’s supplin’ me with enough cash flow to make it worth my while and give me more down time.”

“Yeah and what, you think some pretty, successful woman is gonna be the key to keeping your company. You sold out, man, she's gonna be changing things, controlling things, you don't even know the half of it. You should've-“

“You weren't there!” Joel hollers, his patience gone and his head pounding. He realizes that the table next to them looked up from their menus at his outburst but he doesn’t care. “You weren't there, mentally, physically, you were gone off in your own little world, Tommy! She was....she saw me struggling and she treated me with kindness and respect- she was there to help! She was fucking there, Tommy!”

“You really think she gives a shit about you? Cause she don’t! She just sees an old man to buy out and take over a company because she’s bored, needs something to play with. The girls are going to flip when they find out how weak you were when a pretty little thing flashed a smile at you. All cause you think she cares about you, but she ain’t your family, Joel. Stop lookin’ for it in all the wrong places.”

“You ain’t been much of family lately, Tommy. But go ahead and judge me all you want, this is something I want to do.” He slips the envelope from his back pocket, the logo for his company branded in the top corner, your name beside his above the contact number. It was something you had mocked up for him to look over once the visit to the salon finished. He had liked it, maybe a little too much- to see your names beside each other.

Joel takes the check out from it, so the amount written out is visible. “This is for you and Maria, for my nephew, once he’s born. It’s the severance amount everyone is getting and then some. Cause I take care of my own.”

Joel is shoving up from his seat, jaw muscles twitching. Tommy’s eyes roll up from the check to his older brother looming over him. “You’re no better ‘n me, Tommy. You chased after Maria the second your case was settled.”

He’s not even in his truck for a second before he’s pulling out his new phone and hitting the call button.

All the tension leaves him from the heated interaction the second your voice filters through the line.

“Hey, hey! I’m a little tied up at the moment so you’re on speaker, I hope you don’t mind?” It’s then that he notices the background noise: soft music, the sound of something liquid being shaken up in plastic, and the tacky stretch of cling wrap being unraveled.

“Tha’s alright, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ of coming by, check out those permit applications for you and make sure they’re getting processed okay.”  

“Oh! That would be lovely. And you could check out the space I’m renting. So you know where to find me if I’m with a client. I’ll text you the address, yeah?”

“Want anything from the coffee shop?” Joel’s eyes glance across the street. His brother is gone from the table they had shared outside the café. The truck he had seen him pull up in gone as well. He should probably do the right thing and apologize to the server for taking up a table and then not ordering anything. Might as well get the coffee he had intended to as well.

“Mr. Miller, you are too sweet. I’ll text you my order. See ya in a bit!”

The line doesn’t hang up right away and he catches the soft words you speak next.

“He sounds handsome, was that your husband?”

“Oh! No, no, that was my friend. He’s my personal contractor and go to maintenance man.”

“I’m so sorry, I just assumed because I was looking back at your profile before the appointment and noticed the wedding photos on your feed.”

And then the line goes dead, the call ending as his thumb punches the red circle on the screen.

Joel’s heart thuds harshly against his ribs, his insides all twisted up. The way you sounded when you talked about him had been so warm.

My friend.

But then the person sitting in the studio with you had said the very last things he had ever anticipated.

Your husband. Wedding photos.

Were you married and neglected to tell him? Was this all some sort of game you were playing? Did you even have a need for him if you had a man who you called your own already? Where the hell did your husband fall in all of this? Was Tommy right and he was being played like a giant fool?

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[bubonicc-writing]

The Rebound

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3194

Summary: It's been a long time since Cooper has felt a loving touch. Perhaps a little too long because he's not entirely sure what to do with you.

CW: Semi-slow burn, smut, P in V, creampies, loving on a crispy man who needs it real bad. Prob ooc because this is my first fallout/reader fic ever (sowwy)

Cooper was a hard man to break. Downright standoffish and a straight-up jackass. At least that was what he was like when you first met him. Charismatic, confident, an excellent shot, but god, was he a prick. That, though, you had gotten used to the longer you traveled together. As the months dragged on, that standoffishness started to shed from the Ghoul. 

It started with random small talk picking up between you two as you travel between settlements. For the first few months together, it was mostly silence or business talk traded between you. Who was the next bounty? Where were they last? Can you scavenge while I get intel? It was all just business. That was until one night, Cooper started making small talk between their travels. Then came the soft conversations by the fire when they settled for the night. Every week, the weight of that duster and those guns on his back seemed to lighten the more he talked to you. Then came the offered cantine of water on a scorching day. Already an out-of-the-ordinary gesture from him, more so because your cantine wasn’t empty and he was offering his for a sip.

You took it.

The small talk turned into jokes with hushed laughs between you. As Cooper drawled on, you watched him over the campfire's tip. The light it threw cast beautiful shadows along Cooper's features, and when that crooked ass grin warped his lips more and more, you felt a tinge in the center of your chest. A little candlelight flickering and quivering whenever he spoke in that long drawl. It blazed when his eyes flicked up at you, staring at you in a way that made it seem like he could see right through you. It was like he could see that candle burning just for him.

Now, when the two of you slept, you were no longer on opposite sides of the room. You both started to creep toward each other every night until you were only a few feet apart. Cooper never laid down when he slept. Instead, he leaned against the wall and semi-slouched. He’d tilt his hat downward until the brim hid his eyes. Finally, he would cross his legs and arms before drifting off. You, on the other hand, preferred your bedroll. While not much, it was still better than the barren floor or the questionable mattress they occasionally came across. 

Tonight, a storm was coming through, bringing billowing winds and harsh rain that pounded the roof of the abandoned gas station they had sheltered in. You had tried hours ago to sleep, but the chill from the wind crept between the broken boards and cracked windows. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to get warm in any position. You flopped over one more time, now facing where Cooper was slouched against a wall a good two feet from you. His brim was cast down, covering his eyes as usual, but from how still he was, you figured he had fallen asleep a while ago.

 Chewing your lip, you hesitated momentarily before scooting towards him and bridging the gap. Snuggling up against his hips and thighs, you sighed contently. He smelled of gunpowder and smoke, typical. Slumber tugged at your eyelids, and you finally drifted off within minutes.

A light sleeper for obvious reasons in this hellhole of a wasteland, Cooper had awoken the second you had touched his leg. He waited for you to settle before opening one eye halfway and staring down his brim at you. Studying your peaceful expression and how you pressed your nose into his thigh. Two rouge strands of your hair had fallen against your cheek, slightly curled at the tips.

A former version of himself would have shoved you away, telling you to git back to your side of the station. Except the current version of himself felt something swirling around in his chest. It was slightly uncomfortable but not all too unfamiliar.

It was a sensation he hadn’t felt for over a hundred years, something that longed for that little touch and craved so much more. It flopped around behind his ribcage, and he grits his teeth in annoyance.

Sighing and looking back down, he shifts gently. Bringing one hand down and outstretching two fingers, he tenderly brushes the hair strands behind your ear. With that, he recrosses his arms and sits back, eyes closing.

As the months continue, so do they, but Cooper is different at night. His expressions are somber, his eyes distant while he sharpens his knives. Deep in thought, sometimes it takes calling his name twice before he looks up at you.

“Coop, are you alright?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowed together in concern. You were annoyed when he smiled and chuckled softly, telling you he was peaches and cream. You didn’t push the matter and didn’t have to because he mentioned his daughter three nights later.

He spoke slowly, hesitantly, wondering if he should even be saying any of this to you in the first place. He wasn’t a vulnerable man, not anymore, anyway. 

He spoke, and you listened, night after night, as more pieces of the puzzle of this mystery man fell together. Under all those clothes and behind all those guns, Cooper was still just a man—an ordinary man.

“You’ll find her Coop,” Reaching over from where you were sitting at his side, you placed your hand on his wrist and gently squeezed it, “I know you will.” 

Cooper didn’t respond, but a smile so tiny it almost went missed curved the corners of his lips.

As you lay in your bedroll that night, you felt something shift against your front. Opening your tired eyes halfway, you watched through blurry vision as Cooper lay down next to you. His back was to you, but you scooted against his spine without a second thought. Resting your cheek between his shoulder blades, you closed your eyes again. 

Eventually, Cooper lay facing you. Without saying anything, he would hook your waist and tug you against his chest. Then, you would feel him resting his chin on your head. The first time he had done it, your face burned so hot you feared you might catch ablaze. If Cooper noticed, he didn’t say. No matter, you didn’t want him to stop, and you were sure he didn’t want you to, either. 

In truth, Cooper would be lying if he ever said he didn’t like the sensation of your small palms against his chest. He loved how you played with the buttons on his dirty shirt until you fell asleep.

Each night, you did the same thing, chest to chest, until finally, one night, you nuzzled your face into the nook of Cooper's neck. Soft and plump lips grazed across his scarred skin before placing a gentle kiss on Cooper’s jawline. 

Immediately, Cooper stiffened against you. You felt his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the small of your back pause. You heard him swallow suddenly, and your stomach sank as you expected him to push you away and scold you. 

Instead, Cooper cleared his throat and nestled his chin harder against the top of your head. 

Days in the wasteland dragged on usually, but the following days felt like an eternity since that night. Bounty after bounty, caps collected, and supplies scavenged, Cooper never once brought it up. Instead, he carried on as usual, which, in truth, made your heartache.

It was possible that even after all of this time, the candle he had ablaze in your chest was not mutually lit. 

What you didn’t know was that Cooper's heart had bounced out of his chest and into his throat that night. He didn’t think it was even possible for his cheeks to flush, but damn, they felt hot. It was alien; over 200 years of feeling the kiss of bullets, he had forgotten what a real one felt like. It was incredible but also terrifying.

 He had loved, and he had lost. 

The nights following the kiss, Cooper waited for you to make a move again, but you didn’t. You slept with your back to him and didn’t move when he pressed against you and draped an arm over your waist. After a few minutes, he felt your fingers intertwine with him in a gentle grip. 

The two of you stayed linked that night.

The following night, Cooper watched as you shrugged off your jacket and kicked off your boots, getting ready to sleep after a long day of tracking a bounty through the unforgiving sun. Reaching up, you released your hair from its loose bun and let your locks fall messily over your shoulders.

You half turned when you felt Cooper grab your hand. Watching him bring it to his lips, he kissed your palm and pressed your hand against his cheek.

The brim of his hat temporarily hid his eyes, but when he looked up at you, your heart fluttered. No words were exchanged as you slowly leaned forward, having to stand on your toes even to come close to his marred lips. Centimeters away, you paused, but Cooper filled the gap.

The first kiss was gentle, and your free hand came up to cup Cooper’s other cheek. When you broke away, it wasn’t for long. Reconnecting, your kisses became hungrier, and your hands on Cooper's cheeks drifted downward. Running over his neck, then his collar and chest. You worked your way down as he kissed you until you palmed at his groin.

“Wait,” Cooper pulled away suddenly, stepping back, “wait…fuck” He turned on his heels, pacing back and forth. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, watching him shake his head and curse to himself. “Coop?”

Once he stopped pacing, he sighed and shook his head before glancing over his shoulder at you.

“I don’t think I have it in me no more, sweetheart.” He laughed softly at himself. 

“What do you mean?” Taking a step towards him, she watched as he finally turned to face her.

“It’s… been a long time. A really long time, sugar.” Too long, really, at least, that is what he thought anyway. Nobody had touched him like this since before the bombs. Nobody had loved him. The only thing he knew now was blood, bullets, and ass jerky.

“Coop,” You said softly, moving towards him and wrapping your arms around his towering frame, “let me take care of you for once.” There was silence before Cooper rested his chin atop your head and laughed. Slowly, his hands came up to rest on your hips, his thumbs dipping under the fabric of your shirt to rub at the soft skin there. 

Looking up, you place a chain of kisses along his jawline. Meanwhile, one of your hands pressed against his back snaked back to his front. There, you worked your way down again until you felt the subtle tent in his pants. You palmed it gently, drawing out soft groans from your Ghoul. He shifted in place, sliding his chin off your head and burying his face between the nook in your neck. His hips lean forward into your touch, and you purr at that.

“That’s it,” you whisper, working the top button until it pops. Next, you slide his zipper down and slide your hand inside. “I’ve got you.”

Upon grabbing his stiffening cock, you feel him tense against you, even sagging a little bit as you start to stroke. Your thumb rubs over his swollen head, spreading the generous amount of precum around. You feel it pulse against your palm, and you can’t help but smile when Copper’s breath stutters against your neck.

“Fuck darling,” He drawls, “You know how to drive a man mad.” Bringing his hands up from your hips, Cooper knots his fingers into the back of your shirt. It doesn’t take long to have him unraveling. You can feel his thighs trembling and his grip tightening the closer he gets to release. Like butter, he is melting and fast.

Each new noise you pull from him causes a feverish heat to swell over your form. Your stomach flips, and you feel your heat clench with desire. As much as you would like to keep your composure, you lean into him, pressing your forehead into his shoulder as you stroke faster and faster. 

The choked growl Cooper lets out is the only warning you get before hot fluid coats your palm and wrist. His hips lurch in your grip twice before he suddenly sags hard against your form. Finger still twisted in your shirt, he finally lets go and lets his arms swing heavily by his sides. His legs are like jelly, and it takes him a moment to stand up semi-straight, his hat slightly crooked. He looks drunk, his eyes glossy, that stupid ass grin you loved smeared across his lips.

“That good, huh?” Stepping back to give him a little breathing room, you pluck the first few buttons of your shirt open. Allowing your shirt to part and fall from your shoulders, your breasts become exposed. With your other hand, you reach down and open the first button of your pants.

“Well then,” You coo, “come on then bounty hunter.” You shimmy your pants and panties off, kicking them off to the side, leaving your form raw to his eyes. “Come and get it.”

There was no need to ask twice. Rushing forward, Cooper grabbed your hips and slammed your forms together. Your lips crashed together again and again, and you whined into his mouth, horribly needy. You didn’t doubt Cooper had seen the slick glistening on your inner thigh.

Pushing you backward, you allowed Cooper to guide you to your bedroll. Once close enough to it, he kicked his foot out, hooked his heel around your leg, and pulled it out from under you. As you fell backward, he fell with you, landing flat on his palms. Towering over you now, eyes ablaze as they drink in your beet red face and beautiful puffy pink breasts. 

“You’ve been wantin' this for a while, haven’t yah?” Lifting one of his hands and pressing it against your soft belly, he drags it down towards your heat. Without warning, he slides his middle and ring finger through your folds, running over your sensitive clit. You gasp, tossing your head back.

“Ngh! Fuck!” Looking up between your bodies, you watch as Cooper drags his fingers up and down over and over, teasing your swelling clit. “Fuck Coop, fuck!”

“Well,” He growls, “Who am I to keep a lady waitin'?” Without warning, his middle and ring finger coast downward and dip deep into your gushing cunt. The squeal that escapes your lips has Cooper chuckling. He presses deep into you, humming as your walls grip his digits. 

Burying himself knuckle deep over and over, a squelching noise is followed by each hand thrust. You lift and twist your hips from the intense waves of pleasure. Only when you feel Cooper withdraw his fingers do you flop down, panting harshly.

Through half-lidded and blurry eyes, you watch Cooper bring his hand between you. He inspects them before spreading his two fingers apart, a tendril of thick fluid connecting them.

“You get this wet for everybody else? Or just little o’l me?”

Turning your head away in embarrassment, you feel Cooper grip your chin and return your gaze to him. 

“Eyes on me.” He growls as he rolls his hips forward, running his stiff cock between your slick folds. The head bumps your clit, and for a moment, you think you see stars. Over and over again, he grinds against you, littering your chest with kisses in the meantime. 

When you finally feel him lean back and press his head against your opening, he hesitates. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper as you place your hand on his cheek and run your thumb over his cheekbone. “I’ve got you.” Sliding both arms around his neck, you gently tug him into your warm embrace. One hand rugs between his shoulder blades while your other rubs the back of his neck.

Allowing himself to lean forward, he nuzzles into the side of your neck before biting the soft flesh. 

Rolling his hips forward, he breaches and slides into you with ease. Gasping and choking out a soft cry, you feel him bury himself to his hilt. Hip connected to hip for a brief moment, he finally drags himself out. Rolling forward, the pase is slow, perhaps even loving, before your Ghoul gets hungry.

It doesn’t take long before your hips are slapping together. You can’t stop the sobs of pleasure that break past your lips with each sharp snap of his hips. Digging your nails into his shoulder blades, you feel your eyes cross when the head of his cock punches that sweet, sweet bundle of nerves.

“Oh fuck, Cooper!” Your back arches off of your bedroll, “F-fuck! I’m… I’m” The hot waves of pleasure radiating from your belly to your groin all the way down your trembling thighs to your toes are winding too tight. “I’m gonna cum!” 

He didn’t slow down and instead angled himself better to strike that little bundle of nerves that had your eyes rolling back. It took two hard hits before he felt your beck snap into a tight arch. He felt your chest bump hard against him, and your hips twisted to the right as your climate ripped you apart.

Head thrown back, mouth wide open, no sound came out of you as your climax held you prisoner.

Above, Cooper's thrusts started to become sloppy, losing their rhythm as your cunt clamped down on him spasmodically. As much as he tried to hold on, it had been too long, and you had felt too good.

Grunting hard into the side of your neck, you felt a warmth bloom in your groin as Cooper spilled everything he had left into you. He slammed your hips together, holding you in place and burying himself as deep as he could, pumping you full. The sensation had goosebumps blooming across your skin as your body finally deflated back down against the bedroll. 

With eyes half-lidded and glossy, you made out the foggy shape of Cooper still hunched over you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. Every other breath was a soft wheeze. Sweat had beaded on his forehead, and a droplet fell and landed on your chest.

Leaning back and sliding himself from your heat, a thick flood of cum followed. You shivered at the sensation and watched as Cooper lowered himself against your form. Resting his head between your breasts, he inhaled sharply and sighed.

Lovingly, you stroked the back of his neck, enjoying the sensation of his hot breath against your breast.

Together, you lay like that while listening to the rain from a passing storm plink against the tin roof.

When you looked down, Cooper's eyes were closed, and his breathing had finally leveled. Letting your head fall back, you closed your own eyes and smiled.

For once, the wasteland was at peace.

[themeraldee]

SO WHAT IF: homelander got with a Female SO who is a screamer in bed. Not because it hurts but it feels sooo good. Better if she’s a quiet, timid employee at vought he finds endearing.

(He is so interesting. I can see him with strong women as seen in the show, but he would also like a submissive thing that fawns over him. He’s so versatile with ships!)

yessss yesssssssss

the semi-public sex would go HARD.

Also I'd love to see Homelander discover this. Such a difference to when they're just being cute and lovely or interacting at work. Here's her screaming his praises. Even though timid, she'd be making sure he knows how good it feels. Having had partners before who either found her vocal cries either disturbing or annoying, she wants to make sure he knows she's feeling good. All thanks to him.

Also at first she's super quiet and holds back, not wanting to be too much and freak him out. Until he forces it out of her one way or another...

lil 18+ snippet below cut

He knows you've always been reluctant to move your bedroom activities to other, more risky, places. Yet the thought of getting everyone to hear you get the life fucked out of you sounded too good to pass on.

"You gotta keep quiet for me sweetheart. Or everyone out there is gonna hear you sing for me." Except he has you on your back on your office desk, bent in half, knees next to your chest as he's stuffing you full of his cock. The squelching noise your bodies make on each slide is deafening enough without your screams and moans getting in the way.

Before he buried himself in you, he's spent good time getting you ready, feasting on your cunt until you were sopping wet and ready to take him the way you always want to. Full throttle without stopping.

And with each thrust you get louder and louder. You mumble just how good, ahh ahh, s'good it feels. How good he feels. It's barely coherent but Homelander licks up every word of praise from your lips.

Now that he's learned how to get you to let go he doesn't hesitate to abuse the sensitive spot inside you with short snappy thrusts until you sing for him freely.

Although there's no debating whether or not your moans are easily heard from the hallway, the answer comes swiftly anyway.

Someone knocks on the door. "Uhmm, is everything okay? I've come to bring you the paperwork you asked for." One of your co-workers sounds from the other side of the door.

Homelander takes pleasure in knowing it's the off-putting man he's seen attempt to flirt with you. Yes, let him hear. Let him hear how nobody could ever make you scream this way. Nobody but Homelander.

He gives you a head tilt that says 'see?' and he clamps his hand over your mouth while he rams you even harder. The wooden desk legs squeak horribly against the floor as the desk moves forward with every snap of his hips.

Still, Homelander puts good effort into keeping his voice stable. "Buddy, now's really not the time. Leave it till tomorrow."

"B-b-but." Even though the man is usually oblivious to Homelander's presence anytime he oversees his inappropriate behaviour, at least now he understands there's more at stake.

"Leave." His eyes power up automatically with his tone and while the disaster of a man can't see him, the shift in atmosphere is palpable.

At least from his perspective. Homelander's still fucking your brains out and you're barely aware of the situation. It feels too good to give up on the haze of pleasure lighting up your nerves and force yourself to face the real world where there's embarrassment that comes with nearly getting caught.

He watches the guy scuttle off at his menacing tone.

Finally, Homelander returns his attention back fully to you.

"Look how much attention you're attracting." He lets himself get back in the moment. His voice wavers when you squeeze around him.

"What's that, hah you want more?" He grips onto the desk, letting his pent up energy go into splintering the wood and not the fragile bones of your pelvis.

"Bet they'd all love to see what you're screaming for huh? Maybe I should let them. Let them know I'm the only fucking one to get you singing like this. Fffuck, yeah that's it. Feel so fucking good baby..." With his hand wedged in between your bodies he strokes your clit into completion.

Your screams are muffled by the leather of Homelander's glove and you let yourself scream your heart out as your cunt finally pulses around him with orgasm. The desk finally gives in and breaks when he spills inside you.

He puts all the force he wants to squeeze you with into destroying the office furniture. Because at the end of the day you're the irreplaceable one.

[void-detective]

Earned Place 💰

[[GIF NOT MINE! ALL DIVIDERS MADE BY CAFEKITSUNES]]

Author note: This is a request made by @eboni-napalm that continues as part to my Gunther series, check the other two parts here. My requests are currently open as of now 🖊️ Final part for the Gunther series as of right now! Sorry about lack of proof editing btw 🖤

Word count: 2,646

Warning: praise kink, 18+, sex, gentle sex, two way(?), and face fucking

Summary: After Gunther's king of the ring win the reader seeks a way to prove their spot within the Imperium. After winning the tournament the reader gets greeted by more than they had bargained for.

May 25, 2024 - Women's Queen of the Ring finals

After your previous encounters with Imperium you had sought out a way to prove you deserved a spot within the tag team. And what better way to do it then win the Queen of the Ring tournament just like how Gunther had won against Orton. It only seemed fair that you proved you could hold your own like Kaiser, believing you needed to earn your spot in their team.

So you worked your ass off towards the finals of the Queen of the Ring and ended up in one last match against Lyra who was an upcoming star like yourself but you had more to prove compared to her.

This was for Imperium.

You staggered backstage panting and skin glistening backstage as you smiled, feeling the adrenaline finally ebb away as you wiped down your face. You felt relieved with your win and secretly hoped it was possible that Gunther had seen how hard you worked to get the win on Lyra. You were still sore but felt happy with the results of your win as you brushed damp strands of your hair back with a satisfied look.

So you made it through backstage quietly walking down the corridor a bit lost in thought as you went with a small sigh letting the tension finally ease out your body. It felt nice to actually win a big match for once in your career and even more to prove you could hold your own as a singles competitor outside of NXT and the indies.

You were still buzzing from the match as you moved past other superstars till you made it towards the locker room. You exhaled a nervous breath and pushed open the door to the locker room. You peered around as you stepped further in being greeted by the ever smug and annoyed expression of Kaiser standing of course in the way of where Gunther was.

“Can I help you?” Ludwig narrowed his eyes as he folded his arms behind his back with a small frown, assessing you with a scrutinizing gaze. His brows drawn down in that glare and a bit of a sneer pulling at his lips as he stared you down.

You let out an exasperated huff and looked around the locker room for the General before you glanced back towards Ludwig. “Are you ever going to like me?” You questioned with a quirked brow giving him a half amused yet tired stare.

“Probably not.” Ludwig shrugged and chuckled in amusement at your frustration as he waved a hand. “I just believe he deserves better.” He muttered with a scoff and stepped out your way with his eyes narrowed and a bitter scowl present on his features.

You ignored his comment with a roll of your eyes as you moved further into the locker room with a sigh. You stopped coming across Gunther lounged on one of the couches with that nice navy suit that he wore when he wasn't scheduled to fight. You smiled shyly as you stepped towards him and he sat up straight to meet you with a friendly look.

“You did good y/n, always impressive.” Gunther chuckled warmly and smiled as he observed you carefully with a intrigued look. “You did well on your promise to earn your spot as a member and lucky for you, we have an opening.” The offering felt like the biggest luck and like your wish had been granted but you secretly felt bad for Giovanni who had been kicked out of Imperium not too long ago by Ludwig. It made sense because of the fact that he wasn't used much unlike Kaiser but it still stung regardless.

“Thank you, your praise means a lot to me.” You smiled warmly looking fond as you brushed your hair out your face. “Although I don't know if Ludwig will ever like me.” You added jokingly as you peered over towards Kaiser who was still standing nearby, listening in as always.

Gunther cracked a genuine laugh and patted his chest with a smile as he turned his gaze towards his tag team partner. “Ah well, he'll warm up eventually..if not I'll chop him for you.” He hummed back in a playful way but still in a serious tone that had the other man tense a bit noticeably.

Ludwig held his hands up in a placating gesture and chuckled as he looked off to the side as he cleared his throat. You couldn't help but laugh to yourself at the gesture and the way he looked at the response but you couldn't blame him either. Being on the receiving end of one of Gunther's chops sounded less than ideal.

“Anyway y/n, I had an idea to reward your hard work but I need to know if you're comfortable with..Ludwig too. If he gets out of hand I will straighten him out for you.” Gunther patted his lap leaning forward with his hands on his knees trying to ensure you saw he was serious as he gazed up at you intently.

“You mean like..as in sex?” You questioned as you scratched your cheek turning to gaze at the younger man with curiosity, feeling your cheeks warm up in embarrassment. Your heart beginning to race in your chest are the implications like it was the most dirty thing to do.

“No he means in the ring.” Kaiser muttered with an amused snort as he raised a brow in amusement over the situation. His lips turned up into a wide smirk as he eyed you in an almost condescending way. God you wanted to smack him.

The thought made your head reel but it wasn't an unsavory idea now that you thought about it. You weren't into Kaiser like you were Gunther but if it meant getting even more good favor within the group, you were in for it. Plus maybe he'd stop being such a dick about all of it.

“I'm good with it.” You whispered back fiddling with your ring gear as you smiled over at Gunther with a nod of reassurance. It made you feel a lot better knowing how considerate he could be even now in these situations.

Gunther nodded his head in approval and leaned back on the couch looking up at you with an appraising gaze almost like a proud mentor. “Well go ahead I'll let you choose whatever you want.” He chuckled, the Austrian accent still ever prominent and you couldn't help but internally melt.

You let out a small breath feeling your nerves rack but with his permission you told a lot more at ease as you walked toward him. You watched him relax and give you another nod before you slipped onto his lap, gently straddling him as you looked up at him with your thighs on each side of his legs as you looked up at him. You felt his hands slide up your thighs and stay there which you didn't mind anyway.

As you adjusted getting used to sitting on his lap you could just feel the warmth and difference in your sizes. He was a big guy in general with everything and you could never not marvel at it all. You knew a lot of the women in the locker room didn't find him attractive but to you he was and not just in looks but the style and passion for the business.

You hesitated and felt him gently squeeze your thighs in response, almost trying to silently soothe you and tell you it was okay. You took another deep breath through your nose and moved a hand over his arm and onto his shoulder. Your other free hand moving up to gently caress his face like he was fragile even though it would take a lot to even dent him at all. You saw the glimmer of amusement in those green eyes as he raised a brow in question at your gentle handling of him.

“..Sorry, uh just admiring.” You cleared your throat and felt your blush burn toward the tips on your ears in response and felt your heart flutter at the soft chuckle that left him.

“Really? You're an odd one y/n, I don't have many women say they're trying to admire me.” The Austrian mused with a shake of his head but didn't deter your touches, only looking amused by them.

Contemplating your next moves you leaned your head forward peering at him uncertainty before mentally saying ‘fuck it' and closed the distance between you both. You kissed him gently and sighed, relaxing as he reciprocated the kiss and you moved the hand to his shoulder.

Eventually you parted and avoided his gaze as you rubbed your neck looking down as you shifted in his lap. You had an idea for what you wanted so you shifted and rocked your hips forward against the erection you could feel hardening against your thigh. “This okay?” You whispered a bit breathless as squeezed his shoulders, getting a hum in response.

You lifted yourself up and helped undo the belt carefully with his help pulling the pants down enough so they wouldn't get stained. You shifted and felt your breathing hitch as he helped pull down your ring gear to help get better access. As you shifted he guided you to lean back a bit and ran his hand over your side gently.

“I'm going to have to prep you, I don't have any condoms on me either. Plus I need to ensure you stay quiet so..” He gently laid you down on the couch, shifting to lean over you as he ran his fingers over your folds gently. He chuckled feeling you shiver and whimper under him before he nodded to Ludwig who had been patiently waiting at the sidelines for que.

Kaiser smirked in amusement and dark enjoyment as he stepped forward as he pulled down his wrestling trunks. He coaxed you to look over by turning your head towards his now freed cock and stepped towards you. “I hope you remember last time.” He mused with a smirk as he guided you to take him slowly.

In time with Kaiser's thrusts you could feel Gunther's thick fingers scissoring the inside of your entrance as you whimpered around Ludwig. The feeling on both ends was overwhelming even as you trembled beneath both men who were assaulting your senses on each end.

“Breath princess, you're doing very good.” Gunther pulled his fingers free from you and he gently stroked your thigh as he watched Ludwig thrust into your mouth. One of his hands soothing your trembling thigh while his partner worked towards his release. “That's a good girl.” He whispered to you and rubbed the soft skin of your inner thigh.

You trembled, breathing through your nose as you hollowed your cheeks and gently reached to hold Ludwig's hip as the man steadied his ever shuttering thrusts. You felt his movement getting erratic as he grunted above you before grabbing a handful of your hair and pushing deep with a low groan. You internally grimaced as the salty taste went down your throat and grunted around him as you tapped his hip.

Ludwig pulled back from you and ruffled your hair with a chuckle as he stepped back. “She's all yours, Gunther.” He wiped himself clean and tucked himself back in his trunks as he turned walking across the locker room.

You coughed lightly and made a face as you huffed watching the other man leave with a small huff of breath. Your breathing slowly coming back to normal as you turned your gaze back towards the larger man above you.

The General smiled at you and brushed your hair out your face as he looked down at you from above. “Are you sure this is what you want, y/n?” He whispered and ran his thumb over your cheek in a gesture that was almost too sweet. Everything about him was so tough and dominant but it seemed he was showing you a softer side of himself.

As you nodded in confirmation and gently spread your legs, you could see him relax and his eyes flick up to your face as he moved over on top of you. One hand braced over the arm of the couch and the other soothing your side and coming down to rub your hip as if steading your nerves.

You breathed shaky and shifted, placing a hand on his shoulder and the other on his side, guiding him closer. You bit your bottom lip as you wrapped your legs around his waist and used your free hand to free his cock from the confines of his boxers. You felt his grip tighten on your hip as he lifted your body up towards him a bit and he positioned himself between your legs.

“Ready? I need you to breathe and tell me if you need me to stop okay? Alright..” The Austrian murmured gently soothing a hand over your stomach as he guided the tip into your entrance. “Easy love, easy..I got you.” He whispered, feeling you tense and whimper under him as he slowly pushed more of himself into you. “There, you're doing so good for me hm?” He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your jaw before he moved the hand off your hip to cover your mouth. “Tap me if you want me to stop okay? I can't risk being heard.”

You felt your heart racing in your chest both from anticipation and excitement as you slowly nodded in agreement to his words. You let yourself relax beneath him and jolted at the first experimental thrust he gave which made you feel just how much he filled you up. You trembled and exhaled through your nose as he set a steady yet gentle pace so you could adjust to the foreign sensation. The burning and discomfort slowly gave way to pleasure like sensation lightening your senses on fire.

Upon feeling you begin to relax and hear your soft muffled sounds against his hands he had begun to move a bit faster and with more force. The movements made you shake and jolt beneath him and you braced yourself by holding his shoulders as his hand clamped over your mouth more. He grunted softly with the effort and watched your reactions carefully for any signs of discomfort as you tilted your head back and arched your back into his movements.

It didn't take long for you to feel the familiar pooling in your stomach and increasing heat that was building towards your release. You trembled upon the intense feeling as you gasped softly against his hand and tightened your grip on his shoulder to try and anchor yourself as your mind began to blank.

“That's a good girl.” Gunther growled in your ear and thrusted deep making you lightly scratch his shoulder and tense up. “Let go for me.” He whispered and kissed your neck, keeping a hand over your mouth as he used the free one to rub the sensitive bud which sent you right over the edge. He grunted and scrunched his nose as you clamped around him as you moaned against his hand.

As your release slowly died down you could feel him pull out and rub your thigh. You watched as he sat back slightly and pumped himself a few times before he came with a low growl and panted softly. God you loved being underneath him. Even now boneless and spent you could feel your attraction and love for the man only increasing.

“You did so good for me, my queen.” He whispered and cupped your cheek giving you a soft kiss before he pulled back to watch you with a soft look. “You earned your spot.”

[otrtbs]

any chances ppl would be allowed to bind ahb for personal use ??

hiya!!

at the moment, and for the foreseeable future i am saying no. just because there are copies of ahb! circulating around SEVERAL websites and vendors being sold for oodles and oodles of dollars. despite my requests for the sellers to stop.

i have had people (etsy vendors) in the past lie to me and say they've made "too many personal handbound copies and are only selling those extra ones" which ,,, was obviously a lie. also they were getting the copies through lulu and selling them just btw.

i have also had people tell me that they are binding them and selling them to others for personal use but not making profit off of them even though they're selling art heist for over $100 a book. so. yeah. another lie

so, sorry! but yeah!! there's not much i can do about people actually listening to me and respecting my wishes etc etc and lord knows they don't, but i would super appreciate it if we kept ahb! an ao3 exclusive for now!

it just makes me feel slightly better to put more rules and boundaries in place! though it's never stopped people in this fandom from bulldozing right through those anyway :/

[khunspikesficrecs]

Could you help me find a vegaspete fic, please?

I'm looking for a fic where I think Pete is autistic and Vegas needs to be away for a while. Macau and Pete stays together at home and I believe that there's a moment when Macau offers Pete a popsicle, but he doesn't accept because it's not the flavor/color he likes. Also, Pete is struggling and Macau gets worried and calls Vegas. Vegas tells Macau what to do to make Pete feel confortable until he can come home.

Please help!

#vegaspete #kinnporsche #fic #vegaspetefic #fanfiction

I'm always happy to help, but hmmmm. This isn't one I'm familiar with. Most of the VegasPete I've seen that has one of them be Autistic focuses on Vegas it seems like. Anyone have an idea about what fic this is?

[fluffypandabun]

Hi, um, I was wondering if I could request 14 and 19 with lee!Wally and ler!Barnaby? They're taking over my brain rn

You're doing this community a great service with your Welcome Home fics

"Ohohoho" Barnaby chuckled lowly, looking over at the grinning yellow puppet who just had the absolute audacity to throw a pillow directly at his face, knocking his pipe askew and sending it to the ground. "Kid, I'll make you regret that." Wally huffed, rolling his eyes and brandishing another soft feather-filled pillow like a weapon. He stuck out his tongue, blowing a quick raspberry in the blue dog puppet's direction. "Come at me, I dare you."

Barnaby stood up.

Instantly Wally's eyes widened in surprise, letting out a squeak as the larger puppet started to approach him. Every bit of cocky confidence seemed to leave his body in an instant.

"W-Wait! Barnaby! I-I asked you nicely to stop smoking inside but you didn't wanna listen and-nohoho Barnie! Stay away!"

The yellow-faced puppet chucked the pillow at the rapidly approaching blue beagle, missing him by a mile in his haste to scramble away.

"Oh no, you don't." The beagle huffed as he reached out and scooped up the smaller puppet as he tried to escape, holding him in his arms he made his way back over to the couch, plopping down with the squirming painter in his lap. "Now you're gonna sit here and have the audacity to throw a pillow at me? Me of all people, your dearest best friend? And if that wasn't bad enough, you're gonna make a nasty face at me! Now when did you get so sassy?" Wally giggled, squirming in Barnaby's lap, though the grip the fluffy blue dog had on him, while gentle, wasn't giving him any chance of escape. "Let me gohohoho!" Barnaby shook his head. "Oh, not a chance! You are way too sassy to be my Wally, so clearly you are an imposter! Now I know you're hiding my Wally in there somewhere, where is he huh? Where you keepin' him?" Adjusting his grip slightly to keep the squirming puppet settled comfortably in his lap, the Beagle used his free hand to gently poke and prod the painter's plush belly and sides. "Is he in here? Huh? Huh? How about...here! Oooo or maybe here?" Meanwhile in his lap, Wally was a squirming mess of giggles and squeaks, eyes scrunched up and mouth opened in a wide grin, the painter desperately tried to grasp onto his friend's larger paws, pushing at them with no avail. "Nahaha! Nohohoho! N-No ticklihihhing!" The blue beagle rose a single brow. "No tickling? But i thought you loved tickling! I mean just look at how much your laughing! You look like you're having a blast!" Wally squealed, giving up trying to push at his friend's paws in order to cover his face, which was quickly getting redder by the second, with both his hands. Barnaby chuckled fondly, wiggling his fingers in Wally's now exposed underarms. "Aw come on kid, none of that now. Let's see that smile of yours!"

The blue-haired puppet snorted loudly, clasping his hands down quickly to his sides.

"Ahahahehehee! Barnabyhehe!"

"Barnaby? Oh no, my dear Wally you are mistaken, I'm not Barnaby right now.....I'm the tickle monster!" With a playful growl, the blue puppet formed his paw into the shape of a claw, before bringing it down to gently claw at Wally's stomach, tickling him now in earnest.

Wally's giggles quickly became full-blown cackles and snorts, frantically shaking his head back and forth as he squirmed. Messing up his usually neat and gelled-up hair, which was now dangling loose and sticking up all over the place.

Barnaby's cheeks hurt from how wide he was smiling at his friend's endearing reaction, that and the fact he had yet to ask for him to stop. The beagle gave a fond shake of his head, chuckling softly.

He abruptly stopped his attack, leaving Wally giggling quietly in his lap. After a second of catching his breath, the yellow puppet cracked open his eyes to look up at him in confusion. Barnaby just gave him a wide toothy grin. "Say, Wally? What's a Tickle monster's favorite snack? " Wally's eyes widened at his he let out a squeak, sputtering out frantic giggly protests, which Barnaby paid no mind to as he scooped his hands underneath his friend. "Raspberries!" He exclaimed, and with it lifted Wally up in his arms to blow a big raspberry right into his belly. Nearly bursting an eardrum from how loud his smaller friend squealed right close to his floppy ears. "NahahahAHAHA! BarnabyHEHE!"

Picking up on the wheeze in his friend's voice, Barnaby stopped. Carefully lowering his quietly cackling companion back down into his lap, placing him there and simply leaning back against the couch cushions and letting the little painter catch back his breath.

After a moment, his gradual titters finally faded away. Leaving him red-faced and curled up in Barnaby's lap, with a groan he lifted both his hands up to cover his face.

"Why are you so mean?" He whined, causing Barnaby to let out a laugh.

"Me? Mean? You say that as if you weren't not telling me to stop." The rest of what he had to say was drowned out by the blue-haired painter's flustered whining and threats of revenge.

Barnaby chuckled, bringing up a large paw to pat the top of his friends head.

"You, kid, are adorable."

[xejune]

hey, did you know? if you want me to draw something, you can pay me to do so!

my commissions are currently open (and likely will be so year-round!) and you can find the price sheet for them here -> commissions

[autisticlancemcclain]

Has it really been 38 fic rec fridays??? It feels like it's only been a month or two.

On the other hand, two more weeks and you will have recommended 200 fics, how's it feel?

I WAS JUST THINKING THAT. so actually crazy!!! does NOT feel like 38 weeks that’s for certain but like it has been. i started this in like january i think!! 2023 has flown by!!!

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

for the first time ever it occurred to me i could look up my AO3 username (which is diff than my handle here--JadeLavellan/Jadestone) and see if people have linked/talked about my writing here before and LMAO. sorry everyone who really loved Provided It Tied You Down First and the fact that absolutely nothing else in my fic writing is that vibe

[greenerteacups]

most of my AO3 comments are really amazing but every now and then i'll get one that is just wildly entitled

like someone just wrote a comment on ch38 that's like "please have them get together soon i don't want to wait. also [x] needs more character development." ??? bitch i'm not a menu why are you out here trying to order

[mirandahamilton]

omg ok you guys i’m starting my little job for real for real for REAL next monday!!!!! this bitch (tumblr user emma mirandahamilton) is actually a licensed social worker and i will be working at a legal aid nonprofit as a forensic social worker connecting clients with essential resources/services & advocating for them in the courts!!!! lowkey a dream role even tho ik it’s gonna be hard af :’) sometimes the girlies have a very embarrassing urge to help other people and strive for whatever justice is possible within a fundamentally fucked system

[sychosid]

getting comments is still very sweet to me especially comments that are clearly thought out and nice, and especially on the heartbreak hotel au it means a lot because I really have put a lot of work into that series. and obviously people who read it are excited to get more. which is great! I'd love to write more

unfortunately, I am rereading One Piece in almost it's entirety. and haven't really watched any 90s wrestling (I'm on mid/late 95 for the WWF) and I barely keep up with modern wrestling. so good luck to everyone waiting for me to write and I'm so very deeply sorry, not for updating, but for the fact that I am unfortunately, a One Piece fan

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao

I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?

Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.

I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x

a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.

“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”

You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”

Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God!

You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him. 

Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”

He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned. 

Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out. 

But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much.  “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”

You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling. 

The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing. 

The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much. 

None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted. 

You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be. 

You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!

Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover. 

The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”

It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark. 

You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack. 

Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.” 

“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you. 

Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified. 

“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do. 

There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”

You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up. 

Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you. 

But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”

“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her. 

She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”

She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both. 

You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it. 

“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through. 

You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground. 

Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat. 

You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest. 

You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand. 

You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look. 

You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast. 

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings. 

It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped. 

Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott. 

He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at. 

Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black. 

When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you. 

You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple. 

The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage. 

Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged. 

She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?” 

She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”

The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you. 

You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”

Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”

You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation. 

“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant. 

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”

“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time. 

Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice. 

“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”

“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott. 

Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most. 

So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand. 

“What’re you doing?”

You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens. 

He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior. 

“I think that’d be best.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated. 

You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him. 

What the fuck?

It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. 

He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you. 

Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire. 

And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams. 

He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you. 

He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess. 

Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off. 

Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense. 

Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal. 

You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag. 

But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you. 

You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip. 

You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you. 

You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known. 

“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”

It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?

Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions. 

“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him. 

“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad. 

But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern. 

Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”

If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.

“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue. 

He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room. 

“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off. 

The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”

He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”

You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby. 

Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”

“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another. 

Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up. 

“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought. 

It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”

“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all. 

The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest. 

You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to. 

You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her. 

You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him. 

You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you. 

You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him. 

Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him. 

It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long. 

It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again. 

“Has he made much progress yet?”

Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire. 

His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated. 

That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes. 

He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye. 

You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”

You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”

“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you. 

There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow. 

You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position. 

“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt. 

He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared. 

He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at. 

Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”

Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”

She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever. 

You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor. 

You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain. 

You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere. 

You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”

Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”

You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”

He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”

His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had. 

“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”

You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”

“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea. 

“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said. 

His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love. 

You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him. 

“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up. 

“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order. 

You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. 

That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants. 

You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him. 

Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips. 

You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”

You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”

He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”

You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you. 

He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass. 

a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl ♡ 

[biteyoubiteme]

Can I get Felix nsfw fic about breeding kink👀

lost luggage

felix x fem!reader

synopsis: the one where you lost your birth control pills.

warnings: 🔞!!! hand job mention, fingering mention, breeding kink, talk of birth control, creampie, no protection, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.6k

an: this is not the best im so sorry but I love this pic of felix so so much and I hope you like it <33 thank you so much for requesting! not proofread sorry :p

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

You had lost your suitcase. Or the airline had misplaced the luggage and claimed to get it to you in the next forty-eight hours. Apologizing for the inconvenience and sending you on your way. It hadn't been too big a deal, Felix talking you down from the anger bubbling up inside you, not necessarily at the airline but at yourself for thinking this would never happen to you. And then yes at the airline and their stupid bad timing and even worse customer service. 

But Felix was there, hand on your shoulder, heady voice in your ear, whispering about taking you out to grab the essentials, to not worry about this one setback. He didn't even care about showing up late to the party you two had been flown out for in the first place. “We will be here all week, being an hour or two late won’t hurt anyone,” 

He was right, everyone had been sympathetic to your situation, cursing the baggage claim gods just as passionately as you had. But it wasn't until the third day of your trip that you remembered one of the key things left in your toiletries bag. The little foil and plastic case of your birth control pills, hastily added into the bag because it was always right there on the edge of the sink next to your toothbrush, taken in the morning consistently enough that you never really forget about it. Not until it was one of the last things on your mind when trying to remember exactly what you needed to buy to replace the lost items for the time being. 

You would have forgotten entirely if it hadn't been for your reflex to reach out for the pill case the second you have finished washing your face. “Shit,” you scrambled to think up the last time you had sex, save the lazy hand jobs the two of you had exchanged in bed that first night. Felix's fingers buried deep inside you as the two of you made out, his soft moans trapped against your lips with each drag of your hand on him. 

Felix hummed a question from the hotel's bed, still lying back against the headboard scrolling on his phone. “What is it?” 

“My birth control was in the checked bag,” you sighed, over the whole thing, if you thought about the bag too much it would just put you right back to the mindset you had right at that airport help desk. “It's fine, calm, cool, collected thoughts just like you said,” you tried to mimic his sweet soothing voice, letting the syllables relax in your mouth to make them true. “If we have sex we will just be careful and when I get the bag back I will make sure to always listen to my gut and put essentials into the carry on,” 

The conversation had been over and done with, forgotten by you as you got ready to go out but not forgotten by Felix. The first thing that came to his mind was the same thought as you, when was the last time you had sex, did you two happen to slip up? Then his mind tripped down a road of questions he never found himself exploring; would it be so bad if you two had slipped up? What if neither of you cared? What if he did get you pregnant? 

Never had his body reacted so fast to an idea, blood rushing down to his cock until it was aching and dripping precum at a rate he hadn't ever experienced. It wasn't as if he had never thought about having kids with you, no this was different, the risk of it right now. Just thinking about how close the two of you had been without realizing it, how only the night before if he had pushed into you, fucked you until you were dumb on his cock, spilling inside you only to do it all over again, you'd be claimed in a way he never would have thought about until this very second. 

He wanted that; to watch you dripping with his cum, claimed as his in a way no other man had ever had you, ready to do it over and over again until you were stuffed so full you couldn't even think about anything else but him and him alone. He was shifting in his seat, trying and failing to adjust himself in his sweatpants, his bulge slung across his thigh, noticeable enough for when you came out of the bathroom again needing the zipper of your dress done up. You chuckled,“Just hearing me say sex gets you hard now?” 

Your hands were on the front of your dress, holding it up and in place, pushing up your boobs just the right amount to draw his eyes in. If you got pregnant they would get bigger, maybe even double in size, and it's all that he can see as he pulls you down on the bed. 

The breath is knocked out of you, his hips fitting right between yours pressing his clothed cock right against you, grinding as he kisses down your neck, leaving a sloppy trail of them right down to your cleavage. Pulling down your dress just enough to free your tits from the fabric, his moan deep in the back of his throat as he takes in your peaked nipples. “Look at how pretty,” he always lets his voice drag out, running low enough to get your panties soaked. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” 

He's looking at you from under his lashes, drawing you in with every little word. You would be anything he wanted you to be if it got him to look at you like that, every little freckle on display under his heated lazy gaze. Your chin barely moves to nod yes and he's got his hands under your dress, tearing your panties away. He wanted you in a way he's never felt before, the walls of his reserve packed up tight now crumbling down at the sight of your glistening cunt. 

Felix doesn’t falter in his movements tugging himself free from his sweatpants, jerking his wrist over his veiny shaft, circling his fingers over his tip collecting all his precum. You're spilled out on the sheets, dress pushed into a belt around your center, your knees falling open for him just enough so that when he pulls you to the edge of the bed you can wrap them around him. Your hips jerk at the sensation of him dragging his cock through your folds, getting himself as lubed up on your wetness as he can before he pushes in. 

The sound of his moan rumbled through his body, no time to let you adjust to the size of him before he's plumbing into you. Your hands shoot out for his wrists, his fingers denting into your hips to keep you in place. “Oh fuck- you always take my cock so well baby-” Every drag of his cock against your gummy walls is pure bliss, your mind fogging up with each sweet word he shares. “Sucking me in and begging me to fill you,” 

It's then that you realize you forgot a condom, not that either of you had one handy, not when you relied so heavily on your pills. “You have to- you'll have to-” but as much as you want to say the words they get stuck right on the edge of a whimper, pull out, right on the edge of your tongue. But its all tamped down when he adds, “ill have to fill you up, pump you full of my cum- fuck- push it back in and do it again,” 

Felix had never brought this up before, not even when he was desperately begging you to finish with him, buried deep in you needing to hear you cry for him. This was different, panting as he went on and on, “Everyone will know you're mine, all plump and perfect with my baby,” he lets one of his hands press down into your pelvis, slapping skin sticky in the air, knees weak from the feeling. “I'm going to cum right here, you feel that?” he digs the heel of his palm in, the tip of his cock pressed right where he wants it, tucked against your cervix hitting it until you're a shaking mess below him. “You'regoing to be so full of me, don't you want that? Tell me you want my baby,” 

“Felix,” you're gasping, scratching at the sheets trying and failing to find purchase on something to keep you grounded because, with each snap of his hips against yours, you're losing it, scrambling to find sanity. 

“Tell me, fuck- oh fuck- please, tell me,” he's begging thumb moving down to press on your swollen clit, circling the bud until your back is lifting off the mattress. He has a direct pull on your body, tugging your orgasm out of you. 

“I want it- please I want your baby,” you're almost in tears before the tidal wave crashes over you, your whole body tensing up before collapsing into bliss. Felix's hot cum spurts out in thick streams coating your walls and pushing out with each continuous stroke of his cock inside you. He slows just enough to let you keep squeezing him, his hands sliding up your thighs to keep them in place around him. 

Leaning down to pepper you with kisses he inadvertently pushes into you deeper, your whimper so sweet neck to his ear,“we can stay like this for a while before we go another round,” 

“A-another?” 

He drags his hips, grinding down against your sensitive clit, “I want to make sure I fill you enough to have that baby,” 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @chasingthatjjunie @possum-playground @ch4nn13luv want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[whoreforsexymen]

The VIP Booth | Vander Smut Oneshot 🫗🤎

(Gif creds: me <3)

Pairings: Husband!Vander x Wife!Reader

Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked! 🤺

Word Count: 3.1k (whoops. got carried away with storybuilding)

Tags: Cunnilingus, Fingering, Face Fucking, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Semi-Public Sexual Acts, Established Relationship, etc.

Summary: You coax your husband into eating you out in the only private area The Last Drop has to offer.

Notes: AAAA!! Idk if this idea is ANY GOOD but it came to me in a moment of delusion. The last bit was probably a little rushed, too. SORRYYYY. I’ll make it up to yall later.

Also, tell me I’m wrong when I say that Vander will go to any length to eat some pussy. Do it, cowards. I dare you. YOU KNOW JUST AS WELL AS I DO THAT THIS MAN WOULD HAPPILY DIE WITH HIS FACE IN BETWEEN A PAIR OF THIGHS.

Asks/Request fics are coming soon, as well as a few more special treats for y’all!! Enjoy, my lovelies, & stay tuned. 🤍

(I can see you, minors!! Get outta here 🤺🤺. BACK! BACK, I SAY!)

Inside the walls of The Last Drop, there was one booth unlike any other—a private, exclusive spot tucked away behind the bustling central room. It was a booth reserved for those willing to pay for top-tier service, offering a secluded escape from the usual chaos of the bar’s environment. But as co-owner of The Last Drop—and wife to the main owner—you didn’t need to fork out any cash to reserve it. Especially not on a night like this. No—tonight, luck was on your side. The booth had gone unclaimed by any paying customer.

Truthfully, the undeniably significant feature were its curtains. The enormous maroon tapestries that enveloped the entrance ensured complete privacy, shielding it from prying eyes. After all, that’s what made it the VIP booth—an oasis of solitude amidst the drunken chaos of the crowd.

With the booth left unreserved, its privacy ensuring a rare moment of seclusion, and the crowd blissfully distracted by their own drunken revelry, the opportunity was simply too perfect to pass up. You had concocted a devilish plan—one that had been simmering in your mind all night. It wasn’t just about messing with your husband—it was about messing around with him.

Your overwhelming desire for your husband was impossible to ignore on any given day, but tonight, it seemed even more intense—an insatiable hunger that gnawed at you, its cause elusive and beyond your comprehension. Whatever the reason, it gripped you with a force you couldn't obstruct, leaving you restless and consumed by pure unadulterated lust.

This, naturally, allowed your plan to unfold effortlessly, as if guided by an invisible hand, bringing it closer to fruition.

To carry out your devious plan, you had carefully cultivated the trust of one of the few individuals who worked for you and Vander. They weren’t exactly employees in the traditional sense, but rather a handful of people you kept on the fringes, offering a few coins in exchange for their occasional assistance. Their loyalty was fleeting, bought with small tokens, but it was enough to serve your purpose. Especially in a moment such as this. A seemingly crucial one—at that.

You kept things vague, framing your request as though it were purely concerning a business discussion needing to be had. You asked your employee to discreetly inform your husband that someone was calling him from behind the velvet curtains of the VIP booth. You also made it clear that the employee should mirror your discretion, avoiding any mention of your name or your connection to him.

The employee appeared curious, even somewhat uneasy, at first. That was, however, prior to you slipping a generous cash bonus their way, eliciting their cooperation without room for protest.

"Go on, please," you plead with your unsuspecting employee, your voice laced with a blend of urgency and excitement. "But remember—don’t tell him it’s me."

As the employee slips into the bustling crowd, you struggle to contain the surge of excitement building within you, all while fighting to maintain a sultry—yet composed, demeanor. You adjust your hair, breasts, and clothing, making subtle moves to enhance your allure and mystery. Every gesture is deliberate, designed to keep you as collected and captivating as possible, cultivating an air of intrigue about you as you desperately await the arrival of your beloved husband.

They fulfilled your agreement as you waited—approaching their boss and informing him that someone had entered the VIP booth, insisting on speaking with him directly.

"VIP booth? Thought nobody booked it tonight," Vander remarks, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest as he takes a moment to process the information. Normally, you were the one who handled the VIP booth, and he’d have gladly passed this task off to you—if the employee hadn’t mentioned that the VIP “customer” specifically requested Vander. Looks like he’d have to put on a more hospitable facade and give them what they wanted.

If only he knew just what this "customer" truly wanted from him.

After a series of grunts, groans, and huffs, Vander finally made his way to the booth. After forcing a welcoming smile onto his face, he slowly pushed aside the curtains.

"Sorry for the wait. You wanted to speak to the owner—"

His voice faltered, trailing off faster than it had taken him to summon the words.

You feel your own response threaten to catch in your throat, but you won’t cave. You abandon your nerves.

"Why yes, I did. Although..." you drawl, your tone laced with playful mischief, "...'speak' isn’t exactly at the top of the list of things I want to do to the owner."

Your sultry gaze locks onto his, deliciously teasing. Vander, already an imposing figure, looms even larger from your vantage point in the booth. Seated as you are, you find yourself craning your neck significantly just to meet his eyes, the angle only amplifying his commanding presence.

A slew of unidentifiable emotions cross his face in a mere flash before fading into a singularly—equally mischievous to yours—-expression.

“Well. Seein’ as how you are the VIP patron of the night, how can I oblige you?” He queries, his eyebrow raising once more.

Your heart stutters beneath your breast as his expression shifts, his eyes darkening with a lust-filled intensity that sends a shiver through you. The chemistry between you two never failing to baffle you.

"...Serve me," you murmur, your voice soft yet determined to keep the air thick with seduction.

"And what, if I may be so bold to ask, can I serve you with?" he inquires, his voice dipping low, the provocative edge in his gaze unwavering.

"Your body." you quip, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves stirring in your gut, desperate to make it quiver.

Vander eyes you carefully for a moment, savoring the way your confidence wavers. He deliberately toys with the knowledge of how easily he can unsettle you, his gaze lingering as if relishing every flicker of hesitation you try to hide. A smirk slowly spreads across his mouth—the very one you ached for—his eyes glinting with an all-knowing, deviously sexy twinge. He nods softly, his hand rising to casually caress his beard as he watches you, the tension thick in the air.

“Mmhmm. I see," he murmurs, his tone laced with teasing amusement. "Who am I, if not a man willing to care for his loyal customers?" He phrases simply, the words carrying a heavy, unspoken promise before he moves, gracefully lowering himself to his knees across from you. There’s a moment of silence, the air thick with anticipation, before he slowly begins to push himself beneath the table that had kept you both apart.

You don’t dare look beneath the table, almost afraid to meet his gaze at this moment, unsure of what you might see on his face now that the situation has shifted. The tension coils tighter, each passing second amplifying the anticipation that overwhelmed your senses.

You practically jump at the brush of his shoulders against your shins as he crawls to them, the rush of anticipation making every nerve in your body jolt. The aching desperation pulling through you draws attention to your core as you feel his strong hands gently caress your legs, the heat of his touch settling on your knees, sending a shiver through you. The way your teeth begin to tug at your bottom lip seemed like the only way you could physically process your eagerness.

Vander remains silent, his hands moving deliberately in opposite directions, the gesture designed to spread your legs—yet he did so with enough force to split you down the middle if he hadn’t been careful enough. It isn’t until he successfully parts them that he speaks again.

“No bottoms? My. What a dirty girl you are, my dear customer. What if someone else had walked in here, hmm? Did you plan on flashing your bits to any bloke who popped his head in?” He teases, practically groaning some of his words, the guttural tone an unintentional yet instinctual reaction to the sight of you so bare—-so clearly prepared for whatever scenario it was you anticipated happening in this little corner of the establishment.

It was obvious to your husband, from the way you were reacting, that the possibility of him crawling under the table to bury his face between your thighs hadn’t even crossed your mind. The surprise and hesitation in your twitches and subtle movements told him everything he needed to know.

The distant, familiar chatter of real customers beyond the thin barrier tightened the knot in your stomach, throwing you into the reality of the moment. It became an unrelenting presence, grounding you in the tension that hung in the air. Meanwhile, the hot, damp breath of your husband seethed against the cold slickness seeping from your cunt, a stark contrast that deepened the unease coursing through you.

A shiver ran up your spine, your body trembling as nervous spasms raked through your bones when he edged even closer—his hair grazing your skin in that familiar way you knew so well. It wasn’t uncommon for your husband to spend most of his time down here, yet no matter how often it happened, the anxiety it stirred within you never waned.

You had an even harder time controlling how your body writhed as you felt the warmth of his tongue flush itself against your sopping heat. Your nails pressed into the soft wood of the table, digging in as you braced yourself, your body jerking. The spasms faltered for a moment, your body going rigid once he started violently lapping his tongue against your aching clit. The abrasing way his beard rubbed against the skin of your thighs sent you into a spiral.

You had expected him to fuck you directly on the table, to take you in the way you were used to—but instead, he toyed with you from beneath it, the unanticipated choice leaving you bewildered. You had been aching for what felt like ages, the desperation almost unbearable. It was a struggle to keep your mouth from parting—your head tilting back, eyes closing as your husband began to ease the tension that had gripped you for so long.

All you wanted was to whimper, to cry out for him, but you couldn’t—not with the patrons so close, just beyond the curtains. If he had only fucked you as you’d expected, he would’ve easily pressed a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, as he had in similar situations before. But this time, you knew he had chosen this path deliberately, testing whether you could hold your composure.

It was his unspoken way of making you atone for the ploy you used to get him here. He was a patient lover, understanding that even though you had pulled him away from his work—which he didn’t mind as much as he let on—you were just too eager to be patient. Always attuned to your needs, he was more than willing to satisfy the cravings of his most cherished wife, finding joy in fulfilling your desires—no matter the time or place. The absence of his familiar presence behind the bar, and the slight potential for upsetting customers, felt like a small price to pay in exchange for the chance to fully indulge in you. To unravel and claim you in ways only he could.

His tongue was relentless. He sloppily sucked and licked at your needy clit, his nose rubbing against the mound of flesh above as he devoured you. His hands were as equally hungry as his mouth, and in need of something to grab. He manhandles your legs, draping them roughly over his shoulders, his fingers gripping at your plush thighs as he curls his arms around them. In doing so, he pulled you closer, your back slipping against the booth as he guided you down, drawing you nearer to him with a purposeful force. His cock was begging to be set free from its cloth prison as he sunk his tongue deep into the void of your cunt. The rhythmic, wet sounds became a melody more captivating than any song he'd ever heard, especially when paired with the soft mewls of you struggling to stay collected—and most importantly—silent.

You can both hear and feel his laugh against you, a deep, low chuckle that carries a mix of arousal and amusement, vibrating through you with every huff. He found the way he could make you squirm incredibly sexy, the reaction sparking a deep sense of pride within him. There was something about the ease with which he could unsettle you that thrilled him, and he took great satisfaction in knowing how little effort it took. He knew all too well that it only took something as simple as a certain look to have you coming undone—and right now, he was determined to make you come undone. All over his tongue.

Vander knows just how wild his fingers can make you on their own— yet especially so when paired with the mastery of his expertly quick and thoughtful tongue.

He wasted no time in combining the two, intent on making you crack under the pressure. While Vander didn’t particularly want to be caught by patrons, either—or, for that matter, by one of your employees—his desire to make you scream was always his top priority.

He grips your thighs with more gusto than before, continuing to pull them further apart in hopes of expanding his ‘workspace’. He releases one of them, the fingers of that hand moving to replace the tongue that was working its familiar magic inside you. He doesn’t give you so much as a single moment to collect your thoughts as he makes the exchange, effortlessly ramming and curling two up into your cunt as his tongue continues its prior attack on your clit.

You swore you were seeing stars behind your eyelids, your grip on the table faltering just like your efforts to stay in control. You couldn't even attempt to cover your mouth, not with the relentless—yet unintentional—way your hands found their way under the table, tangling in his hair and gripping with enough force to pull some strands loose.

You greedily buck your hips down to meet the thrusting of his digits, pulling his head as far into your cunt as possible. He doesn’t complain. He never would. Maybe it was his own type of preferred masochism, but he’d consider suffocating and perishing in between your legs in this way, a noble death.

Your toes ache from the force with which you’re curling them, your legs clutching and winding around his shoulders and neck like a python.

By now, you had abandoned all caution, hope, and effort to moan quietly. You were practically screaming over the deliciously knowing way he prodded his thick fingers into your cunt. He had long forgotten to move them in and out. He knew exactly what spot drove you mad, and he made his most conscious effort to curl them into it as rapidly and frequently as possible.

As much as Vander adored your cries, they were truly becoming far too loud. He really didn’t want any curious folks to come wandering in to spoil the moment when you were so close to your inevitable peak. He has no choice but to silence you. With the hand that remained on your other thigh, he removed it from its resting place, reaching up from beneath the table as he gazes up at you. With a smirk against your cunt, and his eyes studying how your head was still thrown back against the booth, eyes shut tighter than a steel trap—-he shoves two of his free fingers into your mouth. Your eyes shoot open. You look down at him, earning a wink from your husband as he smirks harder against your cunt. The eye contact was filthy, in the most erotic way possible. It always made you feel slightly awkward, in an oddly arousing way, when you made such a type of contact with him in the heat of a moment like this.

You willingly sucked on his fingers, now understanding the purpose for his actions after a thoughtful moment. He groans against your cunt, luckily the sound being muffled by how much his mouth was buried into it. Your tongue swirls itself rapaciously around the digits, drool falling from your mouth as you did so. Vander simply can’t tear his eyes away from such a sight. He groans more as you lower your own gaze, your expression deadly with seduction. He was almost pissy that both of his hands were occupied at the moment. He was anxious to palm at his cock, desperate to find friction of his own now.

His tongue and lips were still working their relentless job on your clit, suckling every few seconds amidst the slurping. The way his facial hair brushes against it every now and then almost sends you into hysterics—bordering on a full blown frenzy.

Your legs are quaking, twitching and spasming with every harsh lick to your clit. It was so sensitive, you couldn’t help how it shocked your nerves, causing them all to fire simultaneously. Electricity burned in your veins, desperate to chase your orgasm as it made your hips flick against his mouth faster than he could lap at you.

Your orgasm burrowed itself into the pit of your stomach, commanding you to follow it down to your cunt.

It didn’t take much longer for you to keel over the edge of your impending climax. It burst through you, your legs clamping shut around his face—a move which Vander was used to by now—-hips mindlessly gyrating against his face as you brutally cum around his fingers. Vander can feel your walls clenching and relaxing back to back with each additional thrust he gave, your voice begging to slip past his fingers as you come undone. He thought you had been dripping wet at the start of this—but he had been sorely mistaken. Your arousal was seeping out of you despite his fingers plugging you up.

“Attagirl..” He whispers against you, giving your clit a few final licks before reluctantly pulling away. The grip on his hair finally loosened as your body went almost completely limp. Your breathing came in rapid, shallow gasps, just as desperate as Vander, himself, now was. His cock was so hard, it felt like it was being choked by his trousers. But he had the patience of a saint. He could wait as long as needed for you to collect yourself once again.

“So, was the service to your liking?” he asks, his tone teasing—and entirely rhetorical—as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The fingers that had been in your mouth slide free as he takes a moment to compose himself.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, clearly amused by how speechless you’ve become.

“Just don’t forget to tip your server..” He teases, alluding to the painfully obvious fact, that this situation is far from over.