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[shopwitchvamp]

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[ryonello]

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[kamitv]

▷ Body Art

Sypnosis . Suggesting tattoos/piercings in the middle of sex. / Pairings . (Separate) Choso x f!reader, Geto x f!reader, Toji x f!reader, Gojo x f!reader, Sukuna x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex m!receiving, established relationships, unprotected sex, etc. / wc . 6.5k

A/N: I'm in heat. [MDNI]

★ Choso Kamo — back dermals

He kinda just blurts the idea out.

You’d be riding him in reverse, legs spread over his thighs as his cock rests deep inside you, his big hands latched to your hips with his fingers digging into your skin.

Choso’s eyelids are heavy as he loses himself in the tantalizing rock of your hips, dark locks of hair messily splayed down as a few strands stick to the skin of his forehead.

Back and forth and back and forth— you were riding him so slowly and sensually, pussy clenching tightly around his cock and pulling a groan right out the back of his throat.

His head rests back on the headboard of your shared bed, groans leaving his lips every now and then as he doesn’t hesitate to hold his voice back from you.

“Fuck, baby,” Choso moans, “You always ride so fuckin’ good-, shiiit…”

You angle your head back to catch sight of your boyfriend, his facial expression leading you to rotate your hips in a slow circle so you can watch the way his brows push together and his lips part into a sigh.

“Yeahhh, jus’ like that,” He grunts, trying to fight the urge to fuck up into you so soon. Then his eyes narrow at your lower back, specifically the area near where his thumbs are digging into.

He guides your hips a little, letting out a low huff as he watches you ride him so languidly. Then you lean your body forward and arch your back, hands pressing down into the mattress in between the two of your legs as you shift your hips skillfully.

Choso’s thick cock was knocking around your insides as you moved, your cunt squelching sloppily around his shaft with your every movement and making you moan just as much as he was groaning.

Bach and forth, left and right, up just a little before sinking back down so that his tip nudges exactly where you want him.

“Mmmh,” You hum slightly, lips parting a bit as he presses his thumbs into you suddenly, “Cho…”

“Babyy…” He drawls out, mesmerized by your steady movements and pussydrunk already, “Have you uh… mmgh, you’ ever thought ‘bout gettin’ back dermals?”

You sigh heavily, “W-What? Back dermals?” You question as your movement stutters a bit, cunt gripping his cock tighter in surprise.

“Uhuh,” Choso nods in a slight daze, “Y’know… the piercing?” He explains, his voice deep as his eyes never leave your lower back.

“Y-Yeah, I know what you’re talkin’ about b-but-, aah…” You moan as he lifts his hips into you ever so slightly, cockhead pressing into your sweet spot, “Why?”

“‘Cause princess….” Choso smirks and watches your hips roll upward in a circular motion to almost match his movements below you, “Fuuuck they’d look so good on you.”

You turn your head back again, “Think so?”

“Mhmm, shit-, you gotta’ get ‘em baby,” Your boyfriend huffs out as his head tosses back slightly, pulling his lower lip into his mouth for a moment just to grit out a low, “M’gonna cum jus’ thinkin’ about it.”

A smile graces your face for a moment and you increase your pace a little, still ridding him a bit sloppy but dizzying just how he likes, “What’s so… mmh, s-special about them?”

His hands shift a little and slide up to your waist, holding you carefully as you rock your cunt over his cock. “Wanna stare at ‘em while you ride this dick, baby.”

You face forward and moan, “Cho…”

“Hm?” He cracks a smirk. He’s no stranger to the way his words make your body tense up sometimes, “I say somethin’ wrong?” Choso teases.

“N-No but-, hahh… are you serious?” You ask before leaning back, grinding your hips forward, and fucking his cock into you as you move a hand to rub over your clit.

Choso scoffs loudly to make sure you hear, “Does it sound like m’joking?” He asks.

You toss your head back and his eyes trail up to the way you look on top of him, “I dunno…” You whine.

“Aww, you dunno?” He chuckles as he mocks you, “Baby I’m so fuckin’ serious. I’ll pay for it too if you want…“

Letting out a sigh, you purposefully narrow your walls around his dick, earning a moan from him and feeling how he twitches inside you.

“F-Fuck, y’like that, huh?” Choso taunts, “P-Please baby, I’ll spend every fuckin’ penny I have on ya’ just t’see you with that damn piercing.” Hands slipping down to your hips yet again, he tugs your body back a little and his cock knocks somewhere inside you that has you moaning his name.

“Choso… shit-, o-okay… I’ll-,” Your jaw drops as his cock grazes that spot you like yet again, “Hhgnn… I’ll get it,” You whisper desperately.

He doesn’t miss your words at all, “Y-Yeah?” He unintentionally thrusts up into you and your pussy quivers around his dick, “You will? Fuck, I love you. Love you s’much-, shiiiit….”

And then he’s thrusting consistently, making you lose yourself on top of him as Choso envisions that damn piercing on you— oh he can’t wait for you to get them now.

★ Geto Suguru — a tattoo of his name

Well, he just wants everyone to know who you belong to of course. You already moan his name nearly every night so why not get it printed onto your skin?

Geto wonders where he’d want such a thing but one day it just comes to him.

It was early in the morning and the two of you had woken up needier than ever, both of you lying on your sides as he woke you up with a million kisses pressed into your neck.

You grumbled something in your sleep and it made him smile against your skin as he slipped up to your ear just to whisper, “G’mornin’ gorgeous,” His voice was so deep yet soft with you.

A sigh slips past your lips at the sound of his words in your ear and you shift around where you lay, “Suguru…”

“Hmm?” He hums, still against your ear purposefully. One of his hands was latched to your waist, his fingers drawing small circles against you as he felt against you wearing his t-shirt.

You pout and angle your head back to him ever so slightly, “What’d I tell you about doin’ that?”

Geto raises a confused brow, “Doin’ what, baby?” He asks, an innocent little smile pulling at his lips as his hand slips down along your body.

“Talkin’ in my ear when you first wake up…” You huff, turning to face forward again and comfort yourself.

Your boyfriend leans down to your neck and kisses you tenderly, “Mmmh…” He hums against you, still smiling a little, “I don’t remember. Remind me?”

Your body shifts a bit and your ass presses back into his crotch, “Said’ it turns me on,” You explain.

He’s quick to flash a smile and pull away from your neck, “Oh yeah?” Geto taunts, moving his lips back to your ear and kissing the crown of it.

“Mhmm,” You hum tiredly in response.

That hand of his begins to slide around your body and to your stomach, fingers slipping under your (his) shirt and feeling your bare skin.

You sigh as he touches you so softly, knowing exactly where this is going once you feel his heavy cock poking against your ass.

Geto’s low in your ear as his hand slides down past your abdomen, “Feelin’ needy for me now, huh?” He murmurs, fingertips grazing the thin band of your panties.

“Hahh…” His voice alone had you so wet. It was all groggy and low with you yet still soothing just how you know it to be. Which is why you’re uttering a quiet, “Yeah…” In response as he runs his fingers over your panties to tease you.

Geto shifts to kiss under your ear, “Lemme’ check how needy y’are…” He whispers to you, “S’that okay?” You swear his request for consent has you over the edge already.

“Mhm,” You hum hastily in response.

His hands carefully slip under your panties and he quickly runs two thick fingers down and in between your wet folds, “Mmmh, baby… she’s soaked already,” Geto talks low into your ear, feeling how your cunt twitches against his fingertips.

You smile a little and push your hips back against him, “Y-Yeah, I know…. S’your fault,” You huff out as Geto just gathers your slick onto his fingers.

Then he pulls his hand out and brings it up to his mouth, sucking the thin coat of your slick off of his fingers and groaning slightly. “I better take responsibility then, huh?” He suggests before dropping his hand back down.

You’re already on the same page as him so you quickly shift to pull your panties down and then kick them off your legs, “Mhmm.”

Geto smiles at how quick you are as his hand is quick to return to your dripping cunt, fingertips rubbing over your clit teasingly and making him bite his bottom lip as you squirm.

The two of you are no strangers to morning sex. It happens quite often if anything. Sometimes it’s slow and sensual and other times it’s rushed and messy.

Like now for example, as your boyfriend goes from finger fucking you and spewing filth into your ear to kissing and sucking on the side of your neck and teasing you with his words.

“That feels good Sugu,” Is all you’d get to say while his two long fingers drag against your gummy walls, curling deep inside you perfectly.

“Yeah?” Geto would whisper, “Bet my cock would feel better.”

You’d just nod eagerly and mumble out a quiet, “Uhuh,” Before he’s moving already.

Your pussy narrows around his fingers and he groans, thumb rolling over your clit, “You want it? Want my cock inside you, baby?” Geto teases.

You could already feel his dick pressing against your ass, his hips lightly pushing into you every now and then for some friction.

“Please,” You sigh out.

And then he’s moving. Fingers drawing out of your messy cunt and going to tug his sweats down. He had no plans of changing positions either, fucking you sideways was one of his favorite things to do anyway.

Hence why he’s all in your ear, lips brushing over your skin, “Lift ya’ leg up f’me, pretty girl,” Geto instructs, to which you begin to do so and he hooks an arm under your leg, “Yeahh, just like that-,” He grunts as the tip of his cock grazes your wet hole, “Fuck, m’gonna slip right in.”

His words leave him just as he angles his cock into you, quickly stretching you open and causing your eyes to roll back.

“Mmmgh,” You moan, turning your face into the pillow a bit more.

Not that the action helps you escape Geto’s voice because he simply pushes his face forward. He won’t allow you to move your ear away from him, especially not when his every word causes your pussy to squeeze around him.

Whispering, “Feel me in there princess?” To you so softly as he rolls his hips into you, his cock bottoming you out completely and making your jaw drop.

Your folds were spread so lewdly around his girthy cock, length searing against your slick walls and leading him to groan into your ear.

“Yeahhh-,” You answer your boyfriend as best as you can, eyes flickering shut as he draws his hips back and pushes forward slowly, “Fuck you’re so deep.”

“Mhmm,” Geto hums steadily. Then he kisses your neck again and thrusts forward harshly, earning a filthy squelch from your cunt, “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ loud, shit…” He huffs.

You just lay there and pant as he ruts his heavy cock in and out of you, filthy words causing your core to burn with arousal, “Hahh, Sugu…”

“Listen t’her,” He coos, smiling against your ear, “Hear how sloppy she is f’me?”

All you can do is nod, “Mhmm.”

Geto lets out a heavy groan and his hips snap into you— your body would’ve jerked and you probably would’ve fallen over if not for the steel hold he had on your leg.

“Words, baby, wanna hear your voice,” He huffed against you, tone a bit lighter than he intended it to be.

“Yes, Suguru,” You answer correctly, a bit of drool escaping the corner of your mouth as his pace picks up.

Your whiney voice makes his cock ache inside you, tip leaky against your cervix as he knocks into you, “Yeahhhh… fuck, keep sayin’ my name,” Geto encourages.

Your jaw goes a bit slack, “Suguuu…”

“Right here, princess,” A soft pair of lips press against your ear as he fucks deeper into you, “M’right here.”

“Aahhh, mmgh-, S’guru,” You slur out, feeling him thrust almost desperately inside you as if to invoke more cries of his name.

And maybe that was why he got a little rough because then he’s angling his head down to your neck, then your shoulder, kissing you so softly despite the constant clash of his hips against you.

“Y’know…” Geto licks your shoulder before sucking on the exposed area, “My name would look s’pretty right here,” He murmurs.

Your brows twist up a bit, “Hmm?”

“On your shoulder-, fuck…” That curve of his angles somewhere inside you that makes your vision blur for a second, “Could’ stare at it while I fuck you like this.” Geto explains with a sudden smile growing on his face.

“Yeah? Y’want me to get your name tatted on me?” You pant out, lips parting and pretty moans spilling more freely.

“Fuuuuck, please,” Geto begs, nearly cumming at the thought of his name on you.

“Mmh, I’ll think about it Sugu.” You whisper in response. That earns a sloppier thrust of his hips, cock rubbing against your gummy walls widely as your words excite him.

“Yeah? Really?” He asks, excitement embedded into his words.

You nod, “Mhm.”

“Shit,” He nearly whines, “Thank you princess.”

Just as those words leave him, his mouth is moving to mark the area he’s envisioning his name, lips cupping over your shoulder as he sucks on your skin and his cock practically rearranges your insides.

“Uhuh, anythin’ for you Sugu,” You moan, a hand of yours moving to hold onto the nearby bedsheet and brave yourself.

Geto groans deeply against you, the sound coming from deep within, “Fuuuck, don’t say that… y’re gonna make me cum.”

You just flash a slightly-fucked out smile, “Go ahead.”

“Yeahhh, m’about to….” He chuckles, planting one last kiss yo your shoulder, “You’re gettin’ that tat’ later today f’me, okay?”

All you can hum out is a quiet little, “M’kay…” In agreement before he’s fucking his cum into you, whispering your name into your skin as his eyes roll back.

You’re all his and he wants everyone to know that.

★ Toji Fushiguro — nipple piercings

He swears they’d be the sexiest thing on you.

The thought came about as he watched you walk around his apartment with no bra one morning, cock springing up at the slightest imagination of some pretty jewelry poking out against your thin shirt.

Sure, Toji loved your tits just as they were but thinking about nipple piercings on you just makes his head spin.

Which is why when you find yourself bouncing on his cock later that night, his lips are latched to your nipples and he’s messily sucking on them with those lustful green eyes up on your face.

Pussy dripping all over the damn place as you’d already made plenty of messes on him thus far— Toji’s drunk off you and his cock won’t go down even after the numerous orgasms he’s had.

His tongue lulls over your nipple as he suckles it into his mouth, free hand busy groping your other tit messily while he groans against you. Toji’s always had a thing for your tits but today he was more eager for them than normal.

Your jaw was slack and you couldn’t understand what was up with him today, slightly cockdrunk and unable to stop the steady rock of your hips as his cock stretched you open so dizzyingly. Your thighs were a bit sore from how long you’d been on top of him but that wasn’t gonna stop you anytime soon.

Especially not when Toji’s mouth pops off of you and his tongue hands out as he looks at you, “Fuck, y’re goin’ too fuckin’ slow.”

You frown at the man, “Huh? No m’not…”

Toji scoffs and leans back a little, “Yeah y’are,” He huffs, raising a brow at your slow pace, “I know you can fuck me better than this.”

“I can, but I don’t want to,” You explain to the man, confused about how he seems to have lost track of how long you’ve been on his dick, “M’tired, Toji.”

“M’tired Toji,” He mocks patronizingly, “Y’weren’t tired when you crawled on top of me beggin’ for dick.” He huffs out, rolling your perky nipples in between his fingers as you rock your hips back and forth.

“That was three hours ago,” You gasp, cunt gripping onto his shaft as you lift yourself ever so slightly just to ease back down even slower.

Toji shakes his head a little, “Yeah well, don’t stop now.”

Your eyes narrow at your, currently annoying, boyfriend, “And you’re the one that wouldn’t stop touchin’ me today.”

He cocks his head to the side and one of his hands drops, snaking around your body to grab a tight hold on your ass, “Can’t touch my girl now?” Toji scoffs.

“You can but-, mmh!” You hum as he smacks your ass, “Y-You’ve been gropin’ my breasts all day ‘nd they’re gettin’ sore…”

“Can’t help it, doll,” He shrugs so casually as if your tits aren’t covered in hickeys and markings from his rough hands, “Thought about you gettin’ nipple piercings ‘nd now I can’t unsee ‘em.”

Your eyes widen at that. Then you almost laugh, “Oh hell no.”

Toji’s baffled by your response, brows furrowing as your hips come to a stop and your pussy twitches around him, “Excuse me?” He questions.

“You heard me. You can barely keep your hands off me now,” Your eyes roll as you explain yourself, “Why would I get nipple piercings for you?”

Twisting his face up slightly at your cunt sucking the soul out of him despite your lack of movement, “Cause’ they’d be sexy, y’fuckin’ brat.” Toji huffs out.

You scoff, “Well, unless y’re payin’, I’m not gettin’ shit-“

Toji shifts around beneath you, pressing his hips up into you and causing his cock to jerk deeper inside you. Your eyes flicker back because he’s so damn thick and you can never really handle him properly.

“Yes, you are,” He tells you with a slight smile tugging at the corner of his scared lips.

You scoff and roll your eyes, “No m’not.”

Toji, not a big fan of the attitude this has brought on, shakes his head, “Yes the fuck you are,” He tells you.

The two of you glare at one another, as if both of you aren’t equally fucked out and panting after having sex for so long.

Toji carefully leans up and toward you, his face nearing yours before you start leaning back as if to escape him. Then, he wraps one of his big arms around your waist and tugs your torso toward him, your chest pressing into his.

The eye contact was intense and his cock was aching inside you. You try to keep the stare up but he sneaks a hand in between you two and his thumb suddenly flicks over your clit, making you moan and break the eye contact.

“Fuck, you get on my nerves,” You whine as your stern expression sinks into something pleased.

“Mhm,” Toji grunts, “I know. Tha’s why you love me.”

Your upper lip twitches, “Whatever.”

“Don’t whatever me, watch y’fuckin’ mouth,” He warns, face once again nearing yours and his lips brushing over your skin.

There’s a throb in your cunt at his little warning and challenging Toji is something you find yourself enjoying all too much. Which is why you breathe out a simple, “Or what?” To him.

And then he’s flipping you over. His bulky frame looms over yours before he shoves his swollen cock into your sloppy hole, earning a loud moan from you.

“Done’ lost ya’ damn mind, huh?” Toji groans as he quickly starts beating his angry cock into you at a merciless pace, heavy balls smacking against you and harsh thrusts echoing throughout the room.

Your jaw hangs open and you’re pretty sure you came around his dick just now, “Ahh, T-Toji-, fuck,” You flash a fucked out little smile, “Was’ jus’ jokin’….”

His hands are forcing your thighs apart, fingers digging into your flesh as your body had been folded exactly how he wanted you.

“Jokin’ my ass,” He huffs out, thrusts growing heavier and heavier as he fucked you down into the mattress, “First y’told me I can’t touch ya’, then you wouldn’t even consider gettin’ a piercin’ for me and now, you forgot how to fuckin’ talk t’me,” Toji says to you, cockhead pounding into your tight cunt and quickly getting smothered in your release.

“M-M’sorryyy,” You whine, “I-, a-ah, I just…” Your words fall off your tongue as he fucks you stupid, thoughts jumbling and drool slipping out of your mouth.

“You just what? Hm?” Toji huffs, brows pinching together, “Get it out.”

Your eyes just barely meet his and tears coat your gaze, “Like’ fuckin’ with you-, hahh, y’know that, Toji,” You explain in a light whine.

“Yeah?” He almost smiles at you, “Y’like pissin’ me off, huh?”

“Uhuh,” You nod desperately.

He groans, “Why?”

“Like’ the way you fuck me when y’re angry,” You breathe out, body jerking with his constant and unforgiving thrusts.

“Yeah?” His head tips to the side, “Y’like when m’rough with ya’, huh?”

“Mhm,” You hum quietly, eye contact intense once again as he watches how your eyes cross slightly.

“S’that why your pussy’s droolin’ ‘round me right now?” Toji asks, pressing down on your body and feeling your gushy walls slick up his cock so sloppily.

All you can do is pant and nod in response, “Uhuhhh…”

“Use ya’ fuckin’ words. Y’had so much shit t’say before so don’t stop now,” Your boyfriend scoffs at you, glaring at your teary eyes as he fucks you through yet another orgasm.

Your legs and your lower lips were quivering, tears pricking the corner of your eyes, “Y-Yeahh-, yes Toji.”

“Mmhmm, that’s what the fuck I thought. Now,” His face inclines down to yours, “You gonna get that piercin’ f’me or not?”

“I am,” You whisper.

His lips graze yours and his cock twitches, “You are?”

“Yeahhh,” You hum against him.

Then he’s nodding slightly and grunting a quiet, “Good.” Into your mouth, tongue pushing in afterward as he swallows up your moans.

★ Gojo Satoru — a tongue piercing

Gojo can barely handle your mouth as is sometimes but when he earlier passed by a body artistry place, spotting some lady getting her tongue pierced— he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d be down to get one.

And then later that day the thought returns to his mind as he watches your pretty pink tongue swirl around the tip of his hard cock.

“Hey babyy I have a question,” Gojo smiles down at you innocently, legs spread nice and wide for you as you suck on his flushed pink tip.

Your eyes bat up at your boyfriend, lips popping off of him before you let out a sigh, “Hm?” You hum, hands moving to jerk him off slowly.

His cock was smothered in saliva and precum, a messy mix that you stroked against him in quick pulls and earned a heavy pant from him.

“You ever uh,” His eyes narrow at your hand sliding up and down his lengthy dick, “E-Ever thought about gettin’ a tongue piercing?”

You smile at his question before sticking your tongue out and moving to tap the tip of his cock on it. Gojo stifles a moan as you tease him and his body twitches when you lather his cockhead up with spit.

“No,” You whisper, tilting your head as you then roll your tongue around him again, “Why?”

“Cause… I just uhm,” Gojo’s thoughts stutter for a second as you maintain casual eye contact and wrap your lips around his dick, sucking on only his tip whilst your hand handles the rest.

He goes quiet for a moment, safe for the slight groans leaving his lips, as he watches you. You blink a few times trying to get him to continue what he was saying but when Gojo just stares at you sucking him off, you remove your mouth from him.

“You just uhm….?” You question teasingly, smiling up at him.

He sighs, “Sorry, I uh, I think it’d feel-, look nice on you,” Gojo explains, nearly slipping up and revealing why he really wanted you to get that piercing.

You tilt your head a little before kissing his tip, “You think it’d look nice on me, huh?”

Gojo nods his head, “Yeahh…”

“Sure you don’t want me to get a tongue piercing for any other reason,” You ask as your head angles to the side and your tongue lulls out of your mouth to lather him up with more salvia.

His brows push together at the sight of you teasing him so messily— enamored by your sloppy mouth and how much you taunt him.

“Y-Yeah m’sure,” Gojo hums, “I mean…. What uh-,” You start taking him into your mouth again, suckling more inches down into your throat, “W-What other reason would I ha-, hahh, have?” He stutters.

“Mmmh,” You hum against him before moving your hand, taking his cock all the way down your throat and licking the underside of his shaft.

“S-Shit,” Gojo hisses, “Guess it’s hard f’you to talk when you’ve got a throat full of cock, huh?” He says in almost one breath, bringing a heavy hand to the top of your head and patting you lightly.

Your lips simmer against his base as you keep him deep in your throat for a moment, your gaze still locked on his and giving the man chills at how good you’d become at such a thing.

Gojo starts moving a bit— extending his leg for a second just to bring it back into place moments later, leaning back just to lean forward again, abs tensing… You had him all jittery and he forgot how to keep still.

“How long are y’gonna k-keep me in your throat like that? Fuck-, you’re gonna make me cum,” He huffs out with fully tensed brows, hips shifting slightly.

You slowly pull your mouth up and off of his cock, a thick string of saliva hanging from your tongue as you do so. “Toru, you can barely handle my tongue as is…” You say softly.

Gojo scoffs, “Tha’s not true.”

Your hand starts slipping up and down his cock again, the messy shlick sound following your movements and making you grin, “You already came in my mouth twice.”

“S-So?” He huffs, rosy lower lip poking out into a pout.

You giggle, “It’s barely been fifteen minutes.”

“Okay well, s’not my fault you know what you’re doin’,” Gojo results in saying. He had no other argument for you, not after being sucked off so good by you— of course he came in the first five minutes, you know all his sensitive spots.

Smiling up at your boyfriend, you angle his tip toward your mouth again and your lips graze him as you speak low in a whisper, “But it is your fault though,” You tease, “You’re the one who spent night after night fucking my throat so I could get used to you…”

“Shut up,” Gojo huffs out as he turns to the side.

Opening your mouth and taking your hands off of him completely, your palms press down into the floor and your back arches a bit as you lean forward, “Shut me up, c’mon.”

Gojo grumbles something under his breath before he moves to stand up, his hand angling your head a bit so you can comfortably look up at him.

“Promise you’ll get that piecing f’me,” Gojo says as he tips his head to the side.

You nod, “S’long as you put another load in my mouth, yeah.”

Oh he nearly came at that sentence alone. His dirty talk had rubbed off on you significantly and he loved every second of it, smiling down at you as he nods and pushes his cock into your mouth.

“Fuck, your mouth’s gettin’ filthier than mine,“ Gojo comments as his hips ease forward.

You suck him in with no problem, his dick slipping down into your mouth perfectly as you soon close your throat around his lengthy cock, making him grunt in surprise.

“S’tight,” He huffs, “Jus’ imagine this with some metal on your tongue, pretty,” Gojo starts smiling to himself at the thought, working up a steady pace as he thrusts in and out of your mouth.

You purposefully flatten your tongue on his cock as he pulls out and spit messily collects at his tip, to which he moans as you slurp it off of him and whirl your tongue around.

Tipping his head back slightly, “Yeahhhh,” Gojo gasps, spreading his legs a bit as he starts rutting into your mouth, “And hey… maybe I’ll get a matchin’ one so you can feel good too.”

You whine around him at the thought and your thighs are quick to press together. The motion doesn’t go unnoticed and Gojo chuckles.

“Y’want that, baby? Wanna get matchin’ piercings?” He suggests with a toothy grin on his face.

You nod, eyes pleading and mouth full of him, humming a quick, “Mhmm,” Against him as you do so.

His dick twitches inside you and he heaves out a heavy breath, “Alright, let’s go right after this then.”

★ Ryomen Sukuna — a spine tattoo

If he has a body full of tattoos, why can’t you? And what better place for one to be than trailing down your spine?

Naturally, this thought comes about in the man’s head while he’s got your face pressed down into the mattress, ass up in the air for him and his cock shoved all too deep inside your overstimulated pussy.

If he’s not staring at your ass while he fucks you from behind then Sukuna’s always staring at that spine of yours.

The way it curves into that perfect arch for him— he can’t help but wonder what dark ink would look like trailing along the area. Thoughts of how he’d trace his fingers along a tattoo if it were there come to his mind and he smiles at how he’d probably end up tuning out your cries just because he’s too focused on reading your tattoo.

And he just knows he’d tease you about it, pretending not to know what the tattoo signifies and asking you questions about it just to hear your broken explanations.

Sukuna did enjoy forcing you to talk during sex anyway so, a tattoo would be the perfect topic of conversation. But first, he has to convince-, order you to get one.

“S’kunaa,” Your muffled voice would hit his ears so suddenly, his hands latched onto your hips so tightly that he was leaving marks.

The man hadn’t realized how lost in his thoughts he was, having nearly fucked you down into the bed completely. “What?” Sukuna huffs out in response to the meek call of his name.

You pant and pant into the sheets, drool collected so messily below your face as your wet lashes flutter open, “Y-You stopped, hnngh… t-talking,” You breathe out, catching him slightly off guard.

Sukuna smirks at you, his lovely fiancée, “Did I?” He coos, cock still stretching you open and stuffing you nice and full despite his sudden lack of words.

He’s always talkative during sex, whether he likes to admit that or not— he’d tease you non-stop, dirty talk you until you physically couldn’t take it anymore, and became nothing more than a squirting mess on his throbbing cock.

“Uhuh…” You mumbles out, fingers curling into the bedsheets as you sniffle lightly.

Of course he’d already fucked you to tears. When did he not?

“S’that a problem?” Sukuna asks as he leans over a bit, quickly finding your hand and placing his much larger one on top of it, fingers intertwining slightly as he presses your hand further down.

“N-No… but… mmh,” You moan as his hips slow against you, rolling his fat cock deep inside your cunt and making your words leave in a mere whisper, “I like hearin’ you…”

Sukuna weighs his body into you a bit more, thick tip throbbing against your cervix, “Hm? Speak up.” He orders, despite hearing you just fine.

“I l-like hearin’ your voice ‘Kuna,” You breathe out, lifting your head slightly off of the mattress and angling it so that you could meet his fiery gaze.

“Yeah?” He asks, that wide and sexy smile of his taking over his sweaty features.

Your heart just swells at the sight and you nod thoughtlessly, “Uhuh.”

Sukuna resists the faint urge to press his lips into your messy wet ones, his eyes narrowing at the sight of them open and practically inviting him in. “Why?” He questions.

“C-Cause’ you… hahhh,” You pant as he leans up again, hand leaving yours and moving to your ass, “Your words are so-, mmh!” A hum escapes you as he slaps your ass harshly, leaving yet another mark on you, and smiling down at the sight.

Your cunt was stretched lewdly around his base, sucking every inch of him so deliciously that he could hardly take his eyes away from the sight, “So what? Get it out, c’mon,” Sukuna encouraged, thrusting his hips forward just to watch the way your body jerks and then bounces back onto him.

“Filthy.” You gasp, back arching impossibly further and pussy taking him in deeper.

“Well,” Sukuna scoffs, “How can they not be. Pussy’s back here talkin’ dirty t’me so I talk back,” He explains casually as his rough pace with you returns, “What’s the problem?”

Your jaw drops a bit and your eyes flicker to the back of your skull, “N-Nothing-, ah, m-mmgh….” You moan in between your words as his thrusting distracts you from speaking properly, “I like it.”

He smiles at that, “Yeah? Y’like it? Like it when I tell you how this pussy gets so fuckin’ sloppy f’me?” Sukuna huffs out instantly, your cunt squelching around him so obscenely that it makes him groan.

Your mess was all over the damn place— coating his thighs, your thighs, the bed below-, just everywhere. “Uhuh…” You babble out in response, dropping your head back down into the bed.

“…How she cries f’me, sucks me in deep, and takes my cock so well,” Sukuna continues, his every word coming out with that low raspy pitched voice of his that just makes your stomach flip and churn in arousal.

“Fuu-uck,” You whimper amid his heavy pounding, cockhead unforgiving inside you as he never once slows.

Your body naturally tries pulling away from him and you attempt to crawl away ever so slightly just for a moment's rest.

“Stop that, don’t run from me now,” Sukuna hums before leaning all the way down to your ear, “Thought’ you liked it when I talked t’you?” He whispers, feeling how your walls grip onto him so suddenly due to how close he’d gotten.

You pout, “Y-You’re too close-, fuck.” You explain to him.

That earns a scoff, “Tell me somethin’, slut of mine…”

“H-Hm?” You hum oh so obediently.

Sukuna’s lips press into your ear and a hand snakes under your body, fingers pinching your clit as he questions you, “Who’s pussy is this?”

“Fuck-, I-, ahh… Kuna…” You whine, legs attempting to close on him for a moment, “S’yours ‘Kuna.”

His veiny cock twitches inside you at your response and he grunts against you, “Right, so who the fuck are you to tell me I’m too close, huh?” Sukuna asks, thrusts picking up in speed and practically knocking the air out of your lungs.

All you could do was gasp out a little, “I-“ Only to be cut off seconds later.

“Cock has you actin’ stupid it seems,” Sukuna growls into your ear, leaning away afterward and moving both hands to the arch of your back and pressing you down.

“M’sorry.” You gasp, “S’kuna-, p-please, m’sorry,” Your mouth hangs open as desperate pleas and apologies pour out of your mouth.

Sukuna ignores you at first, fingers digging into your skin as he fucks his dick in and out of you. Cock splitting you open over and over and over until you’re crying for him again, grunts and slight groans leaving his throat as he does so.

It’s only when your legs are quivering for the nth time that night that he smiles to himself “It’s okay, you’ll make it up t’me,” Sukuna finally tells you.

Your brows push together and you look back over your shoulder, “H-Huh?”

His eyes meet yours, “You’re gonna get a tattoo f’me.”

“What?” You gasp at his sudden revelation, realizing that’s probably what had him distracted earlier on.

Sukuna shifts to trail his nail down your spine, “Riiiight along here,” He explains, his soft touch giving you chills.

Excitement coats your gaze and he doesn’t miss that light glint in your eyes as you gasp, “R-Really?”

“Yeahhh,” Sukuna can’t help but smile mischievously, finding you oh so pretty with your face all fucked out, “How’s that sound?” He asks. Though, you and he both know you’d get that tattoo no matter what.

“Sounds good.” You huff out in one breath, earning a sloppy thrust of his hips, tip dripping along your walls the more he thinks about it.

“It better,” Sukuna says before moving his hand to your jaw and lifting your face to him, “Now, tell me you love me,” He whispers.

He always did this when he was about to cum, rarely ever saying it back to you but still enjoying the way you tell him such an affectionate claim anyway.

“I love you ‘Kuna,” You whine out to your fiancé, whose dick throbs inside you at your words.

Sukuna’s lips near yours and his other arm wrap around your body, holding you close to him, “Such a good girl f’me, say it again,” He whispers.

“I love you.” You moan, watching how his brows tense and feeling him cum inside you seconds after that claim leaves your lips.And instead of saying it back, he finally presses his lips into yours, mumbling something about how you’re all his and how you’re so good for him.

[yandere--stuck]

NEED to know your thoughts on a yandere bill cipher

⚠️ Listen, pal, I KNOW why you're reading this. You've got a crush on YOURS TRULY! That's right, buddy, the cat's outta the bag! Well, not like the cat was ever really in the bag to begin with. What? Didn't think my all-seeing eye would spy you making goo-goo eyes at artistic depictions of me? AHAHA, aw, hey! Nothing to be embarrassed about. It's not like I can blame you, I mean, have you met me? A winning personality, great sense of humor, beautiful singing voice - I'm a total catch! And between you and me, you have better taste than the rest of your species’ population.

👁 There are probably numerous reason why you like stuff like this: The obsession, the possessive behavior, the VIOLENCE. Sure sounds like romance to ME! But as for you… Is it the abandonment issues? Lack of validation in your life? Feeling misunderstood and ostracized by the world? Loneliness? A desire for an escape into a fictional world? Or are you like me? Is romance just no good without the true passion of twisted devotion and obsession? There's no need to LIE! We're kindred spirits, you and I.

⚠️ I know just how you feel. You've been kicked down, laughed at, and made to feel small. You've gone unappreciated by blind MORONS who wouldn't know greatness if it melted their eyeballs out their ears. Because you are MEANT for greatness. You are meant for something more, and I bet it burns you to know that. That you're better than all of them. That they're nothing without you, and they DESERVE nothing. They deserve to BE nothing. I know just how you feel because I was in your place. Surrounded by flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams. HA, and I sure showed them. WHO'S LAUGHING NOW, HUH? ME!!!!!!

👁 The point is, I know you. I've had my eye on you for quite a while, kid. Q U I T E A W H I L E. And might I say, out of all the flesh bags that have clogged my vision over the centuries, YOU'RE clearly the best looking outta all of ‘em, hot stuff. But looks aren't everything, of course! You've got a personality to match. Gotta admit, it's cute how you get so invested in your interests, the little hobbies you pick up, just watching you go about your day is like the universe’s greatest reality TV show starring my favorite person in the multiverse! OH, I could just decaptiate you and nuzzle your fleshy little head in an approximation of a kiss right now!!!

⚠️ So, c'mon, just let me in. Shake my hand! Let's make a deal. No matter how big or small! And it’s not just for the purpose of liberating your dimension, no. I want to really get under your skin. To feel what it's like to be in the body of my favorite person. As close as two beings can get, closer than you can get with unworthy specimens of your own kind, more intimate than any experience in the world. I want to be that close to you. Because you're mine. You're MY HUMAN and NOTHING WILL CHANGE THAT. Y'HEAR ME?

👁 So, you might as well accept that you and me are destined, kid. The signs are all there. So, if I were you (and I could be, if you'd just let me), I'd do this the easy way. Because right now, there's two ways this can go down. The easy way: You summon me, and we make a deal. Anything your precious human heart desires - and more! You'll be my precious human pet, my puppet, my toy. Mine to own and have rule beside me! You'll prove everyone who put you down wrong! Anything you want - love, money, fame, worship, vengeance - it'll all be yours, and I'll give it to you. Because I want you to be happy. Because I want what's best for you. Because I’M the only one who actually cares about you. Everything you wanted will be yours. And there'll be an eternal party to celebrate our eternal love… Or, you could do this the hard way. Cause I'm gettin’ outta here one way or another. And when I do, well… I don't think you'd like being locked up in The Love Cage to be TORTURED until you reciprocate my feelings and see the light. I'd say I wouldn't want to, but that'd be lying. So, it's probably not a good idea to give me more of a reason to. So, whaddaya say? You know you deserve the best. Shake my hand and join the winning team. Either way, you're mine.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, yandere, f!reader, bondage, abuse, punishment, intense spanking/whipping-ish

gn reader

“Please- plea- m’so- sorry-” You sob, voice cracking on its own blubbering. Chest full of panic – heaving for a fix but achieving little less than spurring even more hysteria.

“Haah…” He sighs. Casually fixing your bonds tighter around your wrists, hoisting them a little higher above your head until you were properly stretched up on your tippy-toes.

Shivering in just your undies in anxious wait of his anger.

Stroking your back while holding your belly in a steady hand, he thinks he’s never felt fear quite like it, but unfortunately, “Y’broke the rules, Sunshine… and now yer’ gettin’ punished.”

He unbuckles his belt. Your eardrums burn at the crisp sound, so much spiked blood rushing about, making you go dizzy. 

You think you might pass out.

“What did I say the rules were, hm? ‘You remember ‘em?” He mumbles in a steady tone, speaking awfully softly with his lips pressed against your temple. Waiting for your answer.

You give a sob and a pitiful nod, and he hums in return, rubbing calm circles into your shivering, goose-fleshed skin.

“Recite them for me.” He requests, nose rubbing your hairline as you shiver from his touch.

Voice unsteady, filtered through tears and a hopeless sense of terror – chin tipped up, needing to gasp for breaths. “N-no fighting, no- no arguing, no run- running-”

“Mh…” He hums, taking in the scent of your shampoo with a sniff of your crown, placing a kiss there as though in kudos – or as a small mercy before getting started. “And you managed to do all three in one night. ‘You feel proud, hm? ‘You feel accomplished? Hm? Was it worth it?”

You whimper under the interrogation, feeling smaller and smaller by the second – so exposed where you are, practically hanging from the ceiling like dead meat. Stripped of everything that might’ve protected you – or that would have at least cushioned the coming onslaught of pain you knew to dread.

“Nah… it’s written all over your body. Goosebumps and cold sweat, shaking from tits to toes. You regret it, don’t you?” He murmured, winding his belt around his fist once, then twice, leaving a looped tail. “Mh, maybe you’ll think twice about it next time... or maybe you’ll finally learn your place.”

He finished with a soft bite to the chub of your cheek, then grabbed your chin just as gently, holding your face up to look at him as he sidestepped to your front. Leaning his forehead against yours, he stroked your jaw with his thumb – lips hovering just short of yours.

“I'm gonna hurt you, Sweetie.” He purred, stroking your asscheek with the cool leather in his grip – in such gross contrast to what you knew he planned on using it for. “I promised I would, and now I will…”

He kissed your lips then – slowly, sweetly – suffocatingly so as you cried – tasting your tears and doing a terrible job at withholding his grin as you felt it pull giddily at the corner of his mouth.

He licked his lips once he pulled away, walking a circle around you like a shark.

“How many hits do you deserve?” He mused. “I guess one for each rule you broke is fair, but it seems a little scant…”

He stopped behind you, placing a chaste kiss on your arm before nuzzling around it.

“Should we say thirty?” He offered, and your eyes immediately widened.

Shaking your head furiously, prayers already coming out in splutters. “No- please-”

“No? Too many?” He pouted, not bothering to mask his glee now. “Okay, okay, calm down, baby. Breathe.” He soothed with no effort. “I think…”

There was a pause – a hum of thought as he wrapped his arms around your front and swayed you back against his chest in a hug.

“Ugh fuck, I'm no good makin’ rules on the fly…” He feigned - sinking his jaw into the grove of your armpit before cuddling the soft flesh with his chin-stubble.

He sucked his teeth in a further display of thought before releasing an exasperated sigh.

“I really didn’t think you’d break ‘em, y’know? I thought you’d be a good pet…”

You trembled, eyes looking down at the belt held between his big hands – whimpering at the sight of him simply playing with it – psyching you out like a true sadist.

“But you just had to disappoint me, didn’t you?”

You bit your lip to stop a sob.

“Had to be difficult… and now I gotta make difficult decisions…”

He slinked off you, leaving you to wobble – toes barely grazing the cold basement floor.

You try your best to prepare yourself for the next events, but the more you brace yourself the more tense you get and the harder you cry. “Please- I’ll be good- promise- m’real- really sorry-” 

“I know, baby. I know~ I am, too.” He coos, kissing your spine while rubbing circles into your sides – feeling your ribs rattle with sniffles, struggling for air through your panic. “I wanna make sure we never have to be sorry again.”

He wraps an arm around the front of your hips, steadying you while stroking the loop of his belt over your plump cheeks – tentatively teasing the soft flesh with what was soon to come.

He licked his lips at the promise – already imagining the flawless flesh blooming with his marks.

“I think thirty is fair.”

“No- no please- please, don’t-” You thrash – but do so little more than in place.

“Don’t squirm.” He interrupts, his hand curling into your hip with blunt nails denting the fine skin, keeping you still, pushing your side snugly against his front – holding you intimately while gruffing out eerie murmurs still much too softly for what he was saying. “Remember, it’s another ten hits if you fight me and another ten if you argue.”

At least he doesn’t make you count....

You wouldn’t have been able to even under threat – too busy wailing.

Each hit like the lash of a whip, smacking you fast, one on top of the other. It’s enough to make you throw up after half of it – though it's mostly just water and acid.

He takes pity enough to allow you a small break. Wringing off his wife-beater and wiping your mouth with it – also brushing some of the sweat off your brow before kissing your forehead. 

“Halfway there, Sweetie- you’re doing so good~”  He whispered soothingly, holding your cheeks to pick your face up from hanging – looking into the hopeless look of your opium-blown eyes – so lost he didn’t know if you could even hear him.

He acts as though he’s sorry after, but the boner he’s got nudged against you doesn’t lie – desperately dry-humping your thigh for some sort of relief.

His breaths are tight and hot, puffed against your arm where he now mouths wet kisses. “Good-” He swallows thickly, brows tight-knit, voice thick with lust. “Good pet.”

You hadn’t noticed he was done. And the relief doesn’t register either. There isn’t much comfort in it to grasp, not with the pain still so numbingly intense that you can’t feel anything but the raw sting. 

He drops the belt to the floor and struggles his fly open, shoving the trousers down along with his boxers, stepping out of the heap in a rush – all the while sucking sloppy kisses on your shoulder and nape, mumbling praise. “Y’were so good- so good fo’me- gonna reward yah- my good fuckin’ baby- gonna make yah feel so fuckin’ good now-”

The flesh of your ass burns with welts and split skin, ugly marks already lining the once-pretty color with horrid shades of bruise-dark. Your throat’s ripped raw from all the wailing – only weeping harder when he takes your hips and sways you back to meet his fat erection.

He shamelessly rubs himself between your cheeks – frenzied with his mouth gaping, releasing a filthy shuddering moan while leering at the beautiful sight of his handiwork – feeling so proud he was blushing just from sheer sadistic enjoyment – even letting slip a breathy laugh now.

He hung his tongue out and let his drool drip onto the shaft, then placed another kiss between your shoulder blades. Gliding his tip down and, with the help of a hand, pushed it between your cheeks until it caught your entrance. 

A rugged groan blew hotly down your spine, and another cry was ripped from your chest as he sunk inside without a single spare second to waste.

He laid his face to rest against your back, nudging up inside you slowly with both arms wrapping around you like before – holding you snugly before he began the intimate pace, fucking only the deepest coziest parts of you.

“I love you, Sunshine- you’re mine- only one I give two shits about- rest can just fuck off for all I care- as long as I have you- right here… forever.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Sakusa, Miya twins, Suna ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Isagi, Kunigami ♡ DS – Doma, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[arminsumi]

🔞 MDNI/18+

warnings : smut, not proofread, breeding kink, daddy kink, p*ssy drunk Gojo, creampie, unprotected sex, begging, whiny/sub-ish Gojo, deep penetration/cervix mention, multiple rounds, nicknames, dirty talk, some breastplay/smacking

i had a vision! 🥴💦

gojo satoru gets so pussy drunk sometimes that he whimpers like a bitch while driving his fat heavy cock in and out of your pussy and he starts begging for you to turn him into a daddy — bla bla bla give him a baby, please let him fertilize you! he promises his cum is potent! 🥺 when he's so deep inside you his brain goes blank n all he can think about is pussy and breeding. his tip is squished and squeezed so tight, he sputters dumbly and rolls back his eyes and shudders and curls his toes and just keeps fucking your cunt with no breaks. your pussy always hits him like a dope rush and he's addicted. he squeezes n gropes your breasts and smacks 'em a little when he gets lost in the feeling, loving how they jiggle. your breasts under his huge hands is a sight that drives him nuts. oh he can just envision them swelling with milk when you're pregnant with his baby. how many times have you cum? he keeps a mental tally: /// // "yes baby cum again. don't think. we don't n-needa think we just needa fuckkk~ yeah god go dumb on my dick like i'm dumb on your pussy, baby. rub that lil' clit faster. get dumber for me." and the more your pussy milks his throbbing cock, the closer he gets to cumming, he gasps so dramatically "m close m close baby! let me knock up this fuckin' pussy please! i'll take care of you j-jus' have my babies — make me a daddy. can you do that for me? t-take daddy's creampie 'n get pregnant like a good girl?" and when you give him that fucked out nod of approval and whimper for him to cum inside, he thrusts hard and fast till his cockhead kisses your cervix — he cums such a fat milky load, it pours out as three sticky pumps. damn he wishes he had an internal view, you must have been so full of his seed. satoru gasps and writhes from his intense orgasm. your pussy overwhelms his sensitive cock, clinging and contracting around him like it wants to milk him for all he's worth. you can smell his pungent cum spill out and feel it run down your slit. his balls are sticking to your ass from the hot sweat, and he just stays bottomed out inside you for a while. panting heavily. totally enamoured. so dumb from creampieing you and givin' ya his babies that he gets hard in no time and starts thrusting again. his sticky, fat balls slap against your ass loudly. he foams n froths his creampie and stuffs another one and another one deep inside. "no way you're not gettin' knocked up, doll." he smirks drunkenly after draining himself into your pussy. "i can feel how fuckin' full you are w-with my cum." oh and it sounds so sloppy when he slides his cock out your tired hole. he praisingly taps his hand on your pussy right over your puffy clit which you've been rubbing all night. "that's daddy's pussy, isn't it baby? yeah? is that pussy gonna get pregnant for me?" your cute nod makes him grin, "aw, good girl. your pussy's such a good girl."

[mcrdvcks]

I Wanna Be Yours

Summary: You're a hacker for The Organization, a secret group that is currently working on dismantling a mutant trafficking ring. You've been working with Logan for months but neither of you have met each other in person and he doesn't even know your real name.

Word Count: 14.7k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: this is something i've wanted to do for a while- playing with the idea that logan can totally fall in love with someone just through their voice (and vice versa). i hope y'all enjoy it!

warnings/tags: reader has a code name, pet name (darling), light violence, mentions of (mutant) trafficking, some uses of y/n

“Bet you look good in that suit.” You say, tapping on your keyboard, hacking into the security cameras of the seedy casino where the deal was taking place.

Logan huffed, covertly adjusting the small earpiece as he blended in with the crowd of the dimly lit casino. His tuxedo felt too tight, but then again, it wasn’t like he was made for fancy suits and shiny shoes.

“Don’t go gettin’ all sentimental, Phantom. This thing barely fits,” he muttered, keeping his voice low and steady. He glanced around, taking in the sight of gamblers, dealers, and a few shifty-looking men gathered near a corner. Probably the ones he was here for.

“Must be hard to hide all those muscles,” you teased through the comm, your voice a steady whisper in his ear. “But I’ll try not to distract you, just this once.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he slipped past a group of laughing tourists. He scanned the room, zeroing in on his target: a short, balding man with an expensive suit and a smug look on his face. Logan’s senses sharpened. He could practically smell the guy’s nervous sweat. This had to be one of the trafficking ring’s major players.

“Any idea where they’re at?” he asked, his tone shifting from playful to serious in an instant.

“Second floor. Private poker room,” you said, enlarging one of the camera feeds to get a better view. “Security’s tighter up there. You’ll need a distraction if you wanna get past those guards.”

Logan glanced at the stairway leading up. Two burly men stood in front, arms crossed, eyes scanning for any sign of trouble. “Can’t just slice my way through ‘em,” he grumbled. “What’ve you got for me, Phantom?”

“Patience,” you teased. “Trust me, I’m working on it.” You typed a few more commands, initiating a loop in the security feed of the second-floor hallway. “You’ve got a 30-second window. Move now.”

Logan didn’t need to be told twice. He slipped through the casino floor, dodging between slot machines and card tables until he reached the base of the stairwell. The guards barely glanced his way as he strolled past, looking for all the world like another high-roller with a chip on his shoulder.

“Almost too easy,” he muttered under his breath, taking the steps two at a time.

“I make it look easy,” you corrected, monitoring the shifting feeds as Logan made his way to the second floor. “Just keep moving. The loop’ll hold, but not for long.”

Logan reached the hallway, his eyes narrowing at the closed door leading to the poker room. He slowed his pace, ears straining to pick up any sounds on the other side. “Tell me you’ve got eyes in there.”

“Not yet, working on it,” you said. “This system’s layered, gonna take a sec.”

Logan let out a quiet growl. “Great. No pressure or anything.”

“Hey, if you’re in such a hurry, I could always—”

“Don’t,” he cut in. “Just—stay on it.” He pressed his back to the wall, inching closer to the door, waiting for your go.

There was a pause, and then, “Got it.” Your voice softened, like you were focusing extra hard. “Four guys in there. Three playing cards, one pacing by the window.”

“Let me guess,” Logan grunted. “The bald one’s pacing.”

“Bingo.”

Logan’s fingers flexed, the subtle urge to unsheathe his claws growing. But this was a delicate operation. No bloodshed if it could be helped.

“You’ve got any ideas how to get me in without turnin’ this into a brawl?” he asked, half-expecting you to come up with something clever.

“I’ve got a couple,” you replied, a smile evident in your tone. “But you won’t like them.”

Logan sighed. “Why do I feel like you’re about to mess with me?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” you said sweetly, then paused. “Okay, maybe a little. There’s a closet down the hall to your left. Go there.”

He frowned but did as you instructed, slipping into the darkened space, filled with cleaning supplies and boxes. “Now what?”

“Well, I could trigger a fire alarm, but that’s a little loud and obvious. Or, and hear me out, I could disrupt the air conditioning. Make it so hot in there they’ll be begging for an excuse to step outside.”

Logan chuckled under his breath. “That’s your big plan? Make ‘em sweat?”

“Worked on you, didn’t it?” you teased.

“Funny.” He shook his head, glancing at the vent above him. “Think they’ll all leave?”

“Probably not all at once, but it should get the ball rolling. Just be ready. I’ll handle the rest.” Your fingers flew over the keys again, tapping into the building’s climate control system.

After a moment, you heard Logan’s quiet grunt. “Feels like it’s workin’ already.”

“Yeah, I see the temp rising in their room.” You pulled up the camera feed again, watching as one of the guys at the table tugged at his collar, then another wiped at his brow.

“Ten bucks says Mr. Baldy cracks first,” you said, amused.

Logan smirked. “You’re on.”

Not even a minute passed before the bald man swore, yanked off his suit jacket, and threw it on the back of his chair. “I’m stepping out for some air,” you heard him mutter to the others.

Logan’s eyes flicked to the door, his body tense. “Here we go.”

As the door opened, Logan moved fast. He grabbed the guy, pulling him into the closet before he could make a sound. With a quick, non-lethal chokehold, the guy slumped to the ground unconscious. Logan checked his pulse—alive. Good.

“Nice work,” you whispered in his ear. “Bet he’s not going to wake up happy.”

Logan crouched down, frisking the guy’s pockets. “Let’s hope he’s got something useful on him,” he muttered.

“He’s got a keycard,” you said, watching the screen as Logan pulled out the small plastic card. “That should get you into the back office.”

Logan glanced down at the unconscious man. “You were right. I didn’t like your plan.”

You laughed softly through the comms. “You’ll get over it. Now go, before they notice their friend’s gone.”

Logan straightened up, giving the unconscious man one last look before slipping out of the closet. “You better have a plan for what’s next, Phantom.”

“I always do,” you said, smirking as you pulled up the building’s blueprints. “Just follow my lead. Take the hall to your right. There’s an access door near the end. It’ll get you closer to the office.”

Logan moved quickly, the soft thud of his footsteps barely audible. “You sure about this? That door doesn’t look like it’s meant for guests.”

“I’m sure,” you replied confidently. “It’s an employee access. You’ve got the keycard, remember?”

He grunted in response, holding the card up to the reader. The door unlocked with a faint beep. “You really do make this look easy.”

“I try,” you said, voice laced with amusement. “Now, once you’re inside, there’s a small hallway. You’ll want to hang a left, then a quick right. The office is at the end.”

Logan opened the door, slipping into the narrow hallway. “What’s the deal with this office? Anything I should know?”

“Could be where they’re stashing data on the trafficking network. Either that or it's where they’re counting money.” You were typing again, eyes scanning multiple camera feeds. “But I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

“Good feelin’, huh?” Logan muttered, carefully making his way through the corridor. “Hope that feelin’ is worth something.”

“It always is,” you shot back playfully. “You’ve got about a minute before someone notices the guy you knocked out is missin’. So… chop, chop.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan growled, reaching the door to the office. “And you said I was the impatient one.”

Before you could respond, he swiped the keycard again and pushed the door open. Inside, the room was dimly lit, filled with filing cabinets, a desk cluttered with paperwork, and a few old-looking computers. Logan’s nose twitched at the faint scent of stale cigarettes and cologne.

“Jackpot,” you whispered in his ear, pulling up the feed of the room. “There should be a terminal near the desk. Get me plugged in, and I’ll handle the rest.”

Logan looked over at the outdated equipment and scowled. “This stuff’s ancient. Hope you can work with it, Phantom.”

“Please, I’ve hacked worse,” you said, brushing off the concern. “Just get me connected.”

Logan knelt down, finding a small port on the side of the computer and pulling out a cable from his gear. As soon as he plugged it in, your fingers danced across the keyboard, breaking through layers of security.

“There we go,” you murmured. “This’ll take a second. How are things on your end?”

Logan stood back up, glancing around the room. “Quiet. For now.”

“Good, because I’ve got eyes on another guy heading your way,” you warned. “He’s probably checking in on his boss. You might wanna handle him before he stumbles on Baldy.”

Logan’s fists clenched. “Great. Any more good news?”

“Depends. You want the good news or the bad news first?” you asked lightly, your tone casual despite the urgency of the situation.

“Just spit it out.”

“Good news? I’m almost done here. Bad news? You’ve got about thirty seconds before that guy reaches you.”

Logan let out a low growl. “Any suggestions?”

“Well,” you said thoughtfully, “you could go for subtle and knock him out—again. Or you could do the Logan thing and scare the crap out of him.”

Logan smirked. “And here I thought you were gonna say ‘no bloodshed.’”

“I’m flexible,” you teased. “Your call.”

Logan moved toward the door, listening carefully. The approaching footsteps were getting closer. “I’ll try subtle,” he muttered. Then, almost as an afterthought, “for you.”

“Aw, how sweet,” you quipped. “I’ll be sure to remember this moment.”

He cracked the door open just as the guy turned the corner. Logan grabbed him by the collar, yanking him into the room before he could shout. A quick punch to the gut, and the guy doubled over, gasping for air. Logan pressed him against the wall, one hand firmly over his mouth.

“Stay quiet, and I won’t hurt you,” Logan growled, his tone low and threatening.

The guy’s eyes widened, and he gave a shaky nod. Logan let him go, and he slumped to the floor, half-conscious.

“Nice work,” you praised, your voice a soft murmur in his ear. “You’ve still got it.”

“Didn’t lose it,” Logan muttered, stepping over the guy and returning to the desk. “You done yet?”

“Just about,” you said. “And… there. I’ve got everything. You’re good to go.”

Logan disconnected the cable, glancing around the room once more. “And you’re sure this’ll help us track the ring?”

“Positive,” you replied confidently. “Now, get out of there before someone else shows up.”

Logan took one last look at the unconscious man on the floor. “You got a clear path for me?”

“Always,” you said, your fingers flying over the keys again. “Head back the way you came. I’ll loop the cameras again. And don’t worry, I’ll keep them busy downstairs.”

Logan smirked as he stepped back into the hallway. “Sometimes I forget how useful you are.”

“Only sometimes?” you teased.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t push your luck, Phantom.”

You smiled to yourself, watching the feeds as Logan made his way through the building. “Whatever you say, Logan. You owe me one.”

“Add it to the list,” he said, his voice gruff but laced with a hint of amusement.

“Believe me, I am.” You took a bite of your cake, an orange cardamom one you made the other day.

“The hell are you doin’?” Logan asked.

You shrugged, “I’m eatin’. Thought now was a better time than ever. Let’s my fingers have a break. Got a problem, Wolf?” you ask, taking another bite of your cake, your tone teasing through the comm.

Logan’s voice grumbled in your ear, low and irritated. "We're in the middle of a mission, and you’re havin’ dessert?"

"Hey, a girl’s gotta eat," you reply casually, wiping a few crumbs off your keyboard. "I’ve earned it. You’re lucky I’m not eating popcorn with the way this operation’s going. Besides, I’m the one doing the hard work behind the scenes, remember?"

"You’re sittin’ in front of a computer, Phantom," Logan shot back, though you could hear the faintest trace of a smirk in his voice. "Not exactly the front lines."

"Exactly. Where would you be without me?" you retort, savoring another bite of cake. "I’m the reason you’re not punching your way through the entire casino right now."

Logan stayed quiet for a beat. You could imagine him clenching his jaw, trying to decide whether to argue or just let you have your moment. "You done?"

You chuckle softly, leaning back in your chair. "For now. You make it out of there yet?"

"Almost," Logan muttered, his voice low as he moved through the hall. "Place is still crawling with these scumbags. Any chance you can keep ‘em distracted?"

"Already ahead of you," you said, your fingers flying over the keyboard again. "Looping the feeds, and I’ve got a little surprise coming for the main floor. Keep your eyes open."

Logan grunted in response, his boots making soft thuds as he crept through the back corridors. "Surprise, huh? What kind of surprise?"

"You’ll see," you said cryptically, unable to hide the amusement in your tone.

There was a pause before Logan spoke again, quieter this time. "You always this chatty during missions?"

You tilted your head, curious. "Depends on who I’m working with. Some people are all business, no fun. Others… well, they don’t mind a little conversation. Keeps things from getting too tense."

"Huh," Logan responded, noncommittal. But then, after another beat, he added, "Guess it ain’t so bad."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Was that a compliment? Did Wolverine just say something nice?"

"Don’t push it, Phantom," Logan growled, but there was a hint of a smile in his voice.

You grinned to yourself, pleased that you’d gotten under his skin a little. "Alright, alright. I’ll stop before you start getting sentimental on me."

Logan was quiet for a moment, then muttered, "Not much chance of that."

Before you could reply, you heard footsteps in the feed, heading in Logan’s direction. Your tone shifted, all business now. "Logan, hold up. Someone’s coming your way, about twenty feet ahead."

"Great," he grumbled, already moving to the side, pressing himself into the shadows.

You watched the camera feed, tracking the figure’s movement. "Wait… looks like it’s just one guy. Should be easy to handle."

Logan’s low growl rumbled through the comm. "Easy for you to say."

You rolled your eyes, but your focus stayed on the screen. "You’re Wolverine. You’ll be fine. Just make sure he doesn’t see you."

A few seconds passed, and then you heard a soft thud. Logan’s voice came back through the comm, sounding slightly breathless. "Handled."

"See? Told you. Easy," you said smugly.

Logan didn’t respond right away, probably too busy moving again. You kept your eyes on the security feeds, tracking his progress. Finally, you heard his voice, a little softer this time. "Thanks."

Your fingers paused over the keys. "For what?"

"For not gettin’ in the way," he said, almost gruffly, but you could tell he meant it.

You smiled, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. "Anytime, Wolf."

There was a brief silence, and then Logan cleared his throat. "So, you gonna tell me what this surprise is, or you just keepin’ me in the dark?"

You leaned forward, grinning. "Oh, right. Almost forgot. Check the main floor in about… five seconds."

Logan didn’t say anything, but you imagined him looking around suspiciously. Then, just as you’d planned, the lights in the main casino flickered before the fire alarms started blaring. You heard Logan’s quiet chuckle through the comm.

"That your idea of subtle?"

"I prefer ‘effective,’" you said, watching as the casino patrons started panicking, scrambling for the exits. "Should give you the distraction you need to get out clean."

Logan let out a low laugh. "I’ll give you that, Phantom. You make one hell of a distraction."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you teased, though you couldn’t help the slight flush creeping up your neck. "Now hurry up and get out of there before someone starts putting two and two together."

"On it," Logan muttered, the sound of the alarm still faint in the background as he made his way out. "I’m guessin’ you already got us an exit plan?"

You leaned back in your chair, tapping your fingers against the desk. "I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that. Side door, west end of the building. You’ve got about three minutes before the cops show up."

Logan moved swiftly, his footsteps barely audible now. "You really are somethin’ else, y’know that?"

You smirked. "I’ve heard that once or twice."

As Logan slipped through the side door, you watched him disappear from the building’s cameras, your job mostly done. “You’re clear. Ricky wants you to meet him tomorrow morning, 8 sharp for a debrief.”

Logan let out a short grunt. “Ricky, huh? Great. I’ll bring donuts.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “You could at least try to pretend you’re not completely over these meetings.”

Logan’s voice crackled through the comm, rough but with a hint of humor. “I’m over a lotta things, Phantom. Meetin’s just one of ‘em.”

You leaned back in your chair, stretching out your arms. “Well, don’t be late. You know how Ricky gets when he’s kept waitin’.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan muttered. There was a pause, and then, “What about you? You gonna be there?”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised at the question. “You think I just show up to these things? I’m the behind-the-scenes tech genius, remember? My job’s done.”

Logan huffed. “Yeah, well… guess I figured after all this time, I’d finally meet the mystery hacker.”

There was something in his voice—something almost like curiosity—but you brushed it off with a light laugh. “Aw, are you saying you miss me already, Wolf?”

“Don’t push it,” Logan shot back, though there was a playful edge to his words. “Just seems weird, is all. Workin’ together this long and never even met you face-to-face.”

You paused for a moment, considering his words. It was weird. You’d been guiding Logan through missions for months now, your voices constantly in each other’s ears, but you had never been in the same room. A part of you liked it that way—it kept things professional, detached. Safer. But another part of you… well, maybe you were curious too.

“Maybe one day,” you said lightly, dodging the subject. “But for now, I think it’s better this way. Keeps the mystery alive, right?”

Logan snorted. “Yeah, real mysterious. You sittin’ there eatin’ cake while I’m out here doin’ the heavy liftin’.”

You smirked. “It’s called multitasking, Logan. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

Before he could respond, a soft beep on your computer alerted you that the building’s security systems were coming back online. The loop you’d created was about to end.

“Looks like my window’s closing,” you said, typing a few last commands. “Everything’s going back to normal on their end. You’re officially off the radar.”

“Good. Was gettin’ sick of the place anyway,” Logan muttered. You could hear the sound of traffic now, indicating he was out on the street. “You sure you don’t wanna show up tomorrow?”

“Why?” you asked, amused. “So you can finally see if I really do eat cake during all your missions?”

Logan grumbled something under his breath. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Meeting him in person… it’d be a big step. The dynamics between you two would change. And honestly, you weren’t sure if that was a good idea. But at the same time, a part of you was curious about the man behind the gruff voice and dry humor.

“We’ll see,” you said, keeping your tone light. “But don’t hold your breath, Wolf.”

Logan was quiet for a second before he let out a low chuckle. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it. See you around, Phantom.”

With that, the line went dead, and you leaned back in your chair, staring at the screen. You could still hear Logan’s voice in your head, and for a moment, you wondered what it’d be like to finally meet him. But then you shook the thought away, focusing back on your monitors.

It was safer this way. Easier. Less complicated.

But as you closed down your systems for the night, a small, nagging part of you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever get the chance to see the man behind the voice.

---

The next morning, you found yourself up earlier than usual, sipping coffee and thinking about Logan’s mission. You knew he was already at the debrief with Ricky, probably sitting there with that irritated look on his face. The thought made you smile.

You were in the middle of pulling up some new data on the trafficking ring when your phone buzzed with a message.

Logan: Missin’ you at this meeting. Ricky’s talkin’ my ear off.

You blinked at the screen, surprised. You weren’t expecting a text from Logan, let alone one like that. He wasn’t usually the type to check in.

You: I’m sure you’re handling it like a pro. Should I send donuts as a peace offering?

His reply came almost immediately.

Logan: Yeah, make it two dozen.

You snorted into your coffee, shaking your head.

You: I’ll see what I can do. How’d the debrief go?

There was a pause before Logan replied.

Logan: Fine. Got another mission lined up. They want you back on comms. Same setup.

Your fingers hesitated over the keys before you typed back.

You: Guess that means you’re stuck with me a little longer, huh?

Logan: Could be worse.

You smiled to yourself, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. It was a small thing, but the fact that Logan had reached out to you, even if it was just to complain about a meeting, felt like progress.

You: Just let me know when you’re ready for another round, Wolf. I’ll be there.

Logan: Yeah, I know you will.

You stared at the screen for a second longer, feeling something stir in the pit of your stomach. You shook it off, downed the rest of your coffee, and started pulling up the files for the next mission.

There was no time for distractions—not when the stakes were this high.

But still, a small part of you couldn’t help but look forward to hearing Logan’s voice in your ear again.

---

“Why don’t you tell me something ‘bout you?”

You raised an eyebrow at Logan’s question, momentarily pausing your typing before resuming. “I don’t know… don’t want a strange man knowin’ about me, do I?”

There was a low chuckle on the other end of the line. "Strange man, huh? Thought we were past that by now."

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “Well, I guess you’re not that strange, Wolf. But still. Not sure I’m ready to spill all my secrets.”

“I’m not askin’ for all your secrets. Just one.” His voice was rough, but there was a hint of curiosity behind it, like he was genuinely interested in getting to know you. Which was… unexpected.

You tapped your fingers against the keyboard, considering. “Alright. Something about me, huh? Let’s see… I used to hate coffee. Couldn’t stand the taste.”

Logan snorted. “That’s it? C’mon, Phantom, give me somethin’ better than that.”

“Hey, you didn’t specify what kind of fact,” you shot back, a grin creeping onto your face. “But fine, if you want something more interesting… I got kicked out of my computer science class once.”

There was a beat of silence. “You? Miss hacker extraordinaire? What the hell did you do?”

You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you. “Maybe I hacked into the school’s system to change a grade or two. Not mine, though. A friend’s. The professor wasn’t too thrilled about it.”

Logan’s laugh came through the line, deeper this time. “Should’ve known you’d be trouble.”

You smiled, leaning forward again. “Well, you’re stuck with me now.”

“Seems like it,” he muttered, a hint of something in his voice that made your stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, steering the conversation back on track. “Alright, your turn. Tell me something about you.”

“Not much to tell.” Logan’s voice was gruff, almost dismissive, but you could hear the hesitation.

“Come on, fair’s fair,” you pressed. “You can’t ask me for something and not return the favor.”

He was silent for a moment, and you could almost picture him sitting there, deciding how much he wanted to give away. Logan was driving, he had finished another mission with you on the line like always. Except this time, it ended with a man tied up and unconscious in the trunk for Ricky.

Finally, he sighed. “Alright. You want something about me? I used to be a lumberjack.”

You blinked, thrown off by the admission. “A lumberjack? Like, chopping down trees and all that?”

“Yeah. Chopping down trees, clearing land. It was… quiet. Simple.”

You let that sink in, the image of Logan swinging an axe somehow fitting. “Sounds nice. Bet you looked right at home doing it.”

He huffed a short laugh. “Not sure anyone’s ever ‘at home’ doing that, but yeah, it wasn’t bad. Kept me grounded, I guess.”

There was something unspoken in his voice, something heavy. You knew enough by now to not push too hard, so instead, you kept it light. “So, from chopping trees to chasing bad guys and mutants. Quite the career change.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Logan’s tone shifted, and you could tell he was ready to move on. “Enough ‘bout me. What’s the status on those files? You find anything new?”

You glanced at your screen, where the data on the trafficking ring was slowly coming together. “A few new leads. Cross-referenced some names from the last mission, and there’s definitely a connection between the ring and a shipping company based in Miami. Could be our way in.”

“Good.” Logan’s voice was steady, all business again. “Send me the details when you’re done. Ricky’s gonna want to know.”

You nodded to yourself, already pulling up the files to forward to him. “You got it. And Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to let Ricky drive you too crazy. I’m not sending donuts again.”

Logan snorted. “No promises.”

---

Two days later, you were back at your desk, knee-deep in code, when the comms crackled to life.

“You ready, Phantom?”

You smiled to yourself, hearing Logan’s voice in your ear again. “Always. You good to go?”

“Locked and loaded,” he replied, the sound of a car door shutting in the background. “What’s the target this time?”

You tapped a few keys, bringing up the map. “Warehouse in Miami. Based on the intel we pulled, this is one of their main distribution points. High traffic, lots of movement at night.”

“Security?”

“Pretty tight, but nothing we can’t handle. I’ll be your eyes and ears. You just focus on getting in and out.”

“Like always.” There was a pause, then, “You ever been to Miami?”

You raised an eyebrow at the question. “Once or twice. Why?”

“Just curious. Thought maybe you’d have some recommendations on where to go after all this is over.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “What, planning a vacation already?”

“Maybe. Depends how fast we wrap this up.”

Shaking your head, you brought the focus back to the mission. “Alright, Wolf. Let’s get through this first, then we can talk about your beach plans.”

Logan chuckled, low and rough. “Deal.”

As you guided him through the back streets of Miami, tracking his every move on the security cameras, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar sense of anticipation. Working with Logan had become second nature by now, and yet there was always this underlying tension, this unspoken connection between you two that made every mission just a little more intense.

“Left at the next alley,” you instructed, your eyes flicking between the camera feeds. “You’ll see a door around the corner. Should be unlocked.”

“Got it,” Logan replied, his voice steady. You could hear his footsteps echoing off the alley walls as he approached the warehouse.

“Any movement inside?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

You scanned the interior feeds. “Three guards on the ground floor, two patrolling the upper levels. They’re not on high alert, though. You should be able to slip past them.”

“Easy enough.”

You listened to the sound of him moving, the slight creak of a door opening, then the soft thud of his boots on concrete. You kept your focus on the screens, heart rate picking up as Logan made his way deeper into the building.

“There’s a stairwell to your left,” you whispered, though no one but Logan could hear you. “Take it up. The control room’s on the second floor.”

“On it.”

Everything was going smoothly—until it wasn’t.

“Shit,” Logan muttered, his voice tense. “Got company.”

Your eyes flew to the nearest camera, catching sight of two guards rounding the corner, guns drawn.

“Hang on,” you said quickly, fingers flying across the keyboard. “I’m looping the camera feed—there, they shouldn’t be able to see you now.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but you heard the scuffle over the line, the sound of fists meeting flesh, followed by a grunt of pain. You held your breath, watching the screens intently.

“Logan? You good?”

There was a beat of silence before his voice came through, breathless but unbothered. “Yeah. Just had to put a couple guys to sleep.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Jesus, give me a heart attack, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry, Phantom. I’ve got it under control.”

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, and despite the tension, you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, next time, maybe give me a little warning before you go all Rambo on me.”

“No promises,” Logan’s voice crackled through the comms, and you could practically hear the grin in his tone. There was a brief pause before he added, “You still with me, Phantom?”

You shook your head, trying to suppress a smile. “Barely. I swear, you’ll be the death of me one of these days.”

His laugh came low and rough, and for a moment, you let yourself relax a little, the tension from earlier easing. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Yeah, well, I mean it,” you shot back, eyes scanning the multiple screens in front of you. The warehouse was sprawling, but you had a pretty good read on the layout by now. “You’re clear to move. No one else on this floor.”

“Got it.” You heard the soft thud of his boots again as he moved forward.

“So, what’s the next step?” Logan asked, keeping his voice low. “You got me runnin’ around this place, but you haven’t told me what I’m lookin’ for.”

“Patience, Wolf,” you teased, tapping a few more keys to bring up the rest of the building’s security system. “I’m working on it. There’s a secure server room on the north side of the building. That’s where they’re storing the data we need. You’re gonna have to bypass their security to get in.”

“Piece of cake.”

“Funny you mention cake,” you said, grinning to yourself as you tapped into the server’s firewall. “Because after this, I’m thinking you owe me some. Maybe even pie. You’re racking up quite the tab.”

Logan chuckled. “Yeah? We’ll see. First, let’s get through this alive.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

As you worked, your mind drifted for a second, the familiar rhythm of the job taking over. It was almost unsettling how natural it had become to guide Logan through these kinds of missions. You weren’t sure when you’d started looking forward to them—maybe it was the banter, maybe it was the trust you’d built. But either way, it had become a part of your routine.

“Server room’s on the right,” you said after a beat, focusing back on the task at hand. “Two guards outside, but they don’t seem too alert. Shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

Logan’s voice was smooth as he replied, “Already ahead of you. On my way.”

You kept your eyes on the screen, watching as he moved through the shadows, blending in with the dark corners of the warehouse. It was impressive, really. The way he worked was so fluid, like he’d done this a thousand times before. And, well, he probably had.

“There’s an override switch on the wall next to the door,” you instructed. “Flip it, and you’ll have access.”

Logan grunted in response, and a moment later, you heard the soft click of the door unlocking.

“Inside,” he muttered. “Now what?”

You were about to respond when a sudden blip on your screen caught your attention. “Wait, hold up,” you said quickly, fingers flying across the keyboard. “We’ve got movement. Someone’s heading toward your location. Two guards, second floor.”

Logan’s voice was calm, even as he moved into action. “How long do I have?”

“Not long. They’re coming fast.” Your heart pounded as you watched the dots on the map converge on his location. “You need to get out of there, now.”

“Too late for that,” Logan muttered, the sounds of heavy footsteps echoing through the comms.

“Logan—”

“Don’t worry, Phantom,” he cut you off, and you could hear the smirk in his voice again. “I’ve got this.”

The next thing you heard was the unmistakable sound of fists hitting flesh, followed by a low grunt of pain. You winced, even though you couldn’t see what was happening.

“Logan? Talk to me.”

More sounds of a struggle came through, and then finally, Logan’s voice, slightly breathless but unbothered. “Two down. Told ya, no problem.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, well, maybe next time don’t wait until the last second to handle it.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even though your nerves were still on edge. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s what they tell me,” he replied, and you could hear the faint rustle of him moving again. “Alright, I’m at the server. How much time do we need?”

“Give me five minutes,” you said, fingers flying across the keyboard as you initiated the download remotely. “I’m pulling the data now. Just stay put until I finish.”

“Five minutes? Thought you were faster than that, Phantom.”

“Don’t push it, Logan,” you shot back, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “I’d like to see you hack into a secured server faster.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a shot one of these days,” he muttered, the humor still in his voice. “Bet I’d be a natural.”

“Please. You’d probably smash the computer before you even logged in.”

“Only if it pissed me off.”

You shook your head, focusing back on the task at hand. “Alright, I’m almost done. Just a few more seconds.”

There was silence on the line for a moment, and you could hear Logan shifting in place, his breaths slow and steady.

“You ever think about doin’ this full time?” he asked suddenly, his voice lower now, more serious.

“Hacking?” you replied, thrown off by the question. “I mean, I’m not exactly doing this for the money. Why?”

“Just curious,” Logan said, and you could tell by his tone that he wasn’t pressing the issue. “Seems like you’re good at it. You could make a real difference.”

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the keys. “I’m already making a difference,” you said softly, your voice quieter than usual. “I don’t need to do it full time to feel like it matters.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, you thought maybe the line had cut out. But then Logan spoke again, his voice low and almost… thoughtful.

“Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you didn’t. Instead, you focused on finishing the download, the soft hum of the servers filling the silence between you.

“Got it,” you said finally, leaning back in your chair with a sigh of relief. “Download’s complete. You’re good to go.”

Logan didn’t reply right away, but you could hear the soft sound of him moving, his footsteps heavy against the concrete floor.

“Logan?” you prompted after a moment, the silence starting to make you uneasy.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice a little distant. “I’m on my way out.”

You nodded to yourself, watching his dot move across the map on your screen. “Good. Let’s get you out of there.”

As you guided him back through the warehouse, you couldn’t help but wonder what had changed in his voice during those last few minutes. Something about the way he’d asked that question—about doing this full time—had caught you off guard.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. You had a job to finish, and Logan needed to get out of there safely.

“Alright, you’re clear,” you said once he reached the exit. “No one’s around. Just make sure you don’t—”

“Yeah, I know,” Logan interrupted, and you could hear the smirk in his voice again. “Don’t get shot. You’ve told me a thousand times, Phantom.”

“Then maybe this time you’ll listen,” you shot back, grinning despite yourself.

Logan chuckled, the sound low and rough. “No promises.”

And with that, the line went quiet, leaving you alone in the soft glow of your computer screen.

---

"Alright, your change is $2.87. Have a good one.” You handed the change and a paper bag to the customer, smiling politely. After brushing your hands on your pastel blue apron, you turned to the next person in line. "How can I help—”

You paused mid-sentence as you looked up, surprised to see Ricky standing in front of you with a smirk on his face. You let out an exaggerated sigh. “The regular?”

“Always.” Ricky leaned against the counter, watching you with that usual casual attitude. “You know me too well, Phantom.”

You scoffed lightly at the use of your codename in the middle of your bakery. "Could you not call me that here?" You motioned to the line behind him. “I’d prefer not to blow my cover in front of customers.”

Ricky grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Relax, I’m just messin’ with you. Your secret’s safe with me.”

You shook your head and started prepping his order, grabbing a coffee and a chocolate croissant, which he always got whenever he visited your bakery. “What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have something better to do than bother me at work?”

“Maybe I just missed my favorite hacker-slash-baker,” Ricky teased, crossing his arms as he watched you work. “Figured I’d stop by and see how you’re holding up.”

You raised an eyebrow, handing him the coffee. “I’m holding up fine. Business as usual.”

“Yeah. This place looks better than before. New paint job?”

“Actually, no. New tables and chairs.” You replied. Computer programming had always been something you enjoyed and loved, but when you started working for a big tech company, you couldn’t help but feel like your talents were going to waste.

You found Ricky, or rather, Ricky found you, and you were recruited into ‘The Organization’ to take down mutant trafficking rings. You still needed money, so you decided to put to use your other skill, baking. You opened a small bakery in New York City and have been running it for close to 2 years now.

Ricky leaned against the counter, eyeing the new setup. “So this is what you do when you’re not saving the world? Whip up some cupcakes?”

You rolled your eyes as you placed the croissant in a bag. “Something like that. Gotta pay the bills, right?”

Ricky took the bag from you, giving you a knowing smirk. “You know, it’s still hard to picture you as a baker. I keep waiting for the day I come in here, and all the pastries are bugged with tiny microphones.”

You snorted. “Please. Like I’d waste good croissants on something like that.”

He laughed, then took a sip of his coffee. “You heard from Logan?”

Your fingers froze for a split second, but you quickly masked it by busying yourself with wiping down the counter. “Why? Did something happen?”

Ricky raised an eyebrow. “No, not that I know of. Just thought he might’ve reached out, is all.”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone casual. “He’s probably busy. You know how it is.”

“Mhm.” Ricky gave you a look that suggested he wasn’t buying it. “Right. Busy.”

You shot him a glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Nothing, Phantom. Just… you two seem to get along pretty well. That’s all.”

You felt a warmth creeping up the back of your neck and quickly turned away, focusing on the pastries again. “We work well together, if that’s what you mean.”

“Sure, sure,” Ricky said, clearly amused. “Just don’t let ol’ Wolf get too attached. He’s not exactly the sentimental type.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, I’m not worried about that.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t help but think back to the last mission. The banter, the small moments where Logan seemed to let his guard down—just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you wonder.

Ricky stood up straight, crumpling the paper bag in his hand. “Alright, Phantom. I’ll leave you to your cupcakes and secret side missions. Just don’t go getting yourself into trouble.”

“Me? Trouble?” you grinned. “Never.”

He chuckled, heading for the door. “Catch you later.”

As soon as he was gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Ricky had a way of pushing your buttons just enough to make you think. And now you couldn’t stop replaying your recent conversations with Logan in your head. It was strange—this… thing between you two. He wasn’t like anyone you’d worked with before. And yet, it felt natural, like you’d known each other much longer than a few months.

Your phone buzzed in your apron pocket, snapping you out of your thoughts. You pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

Logan: Got some info for you. When’s your next shift with me?

You bit your lip, your fingers hovering over the keys for a second before you replied.

You: Whenever you need me. What’s the mission?

Logan: I’ll fill you in later. Just be ready.

You: Always am, Wolf.

A short pause, then Logan’s reply came through.

Logan: I know.

You stared at the screen for a moment longer, feeling that familiar flutter in your chest. Shaking your head, you shoved the phone back into your pocket. You had a business to run, after all. There was no time to dwell on this… whatever it was between you and Logan.

But as you served the next customer with a practiced smile, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that your next mission with him was going to be different. Maybe it already was.

---

“You ever been to New York City?” Logan asked.

You briefly stopped your typing on the keyboard, “maybe. Maybe not. Why?”

Logan’s voice crackled through the earpiece, low and rough as always. “Just curious. Figured you might’ve wandered through at some point, considering how close we’ve been workin’ together.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the surveillance feed on your screen. “Is this your version of small talk, Wolf? Because I gotta say, you’re not exactly known for that.”

He chuckled. “Nah, just figured it was worth askin’. You ever get outta that basement of yours?”

You leaned back in your chair, smirking to yourself. “I’m not always in a basement, you know. I have other things going on. Like you, sweetie. You focusing on those wires?”

“Sweetie?” Logan’s voice came back with a low growl, amusement lacing his tone. “You know I don’t get distracted easy, darlin’.”

You smirked at the monitor in front of you, watching as he carefully maneuvered through the narrow corridor of the warehouse. “Just making sure. Wouldn’t want to have to bail you out if you trip a wire.”

“Funny,” he muttered. “You’re soundin’ real confident for someone sittin’ comfy at a keyboard.”

“Hey, I’m not comfy,” you shot back, leaning closer to the screen. “I’m on the edge of my seat watching your back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said, the sound of a door creaking open in the background. “What do you see up ahead?”

You focused on the different camera feeds, your fingers flying over the keys to switch between views. “Two guards in the hallway to your left. Armed. They’re just patrolling, so if you wait about ten seconds, you should be able to slip by.”

“Copy that.” His breathing slowed, the sound of footsteps faint as he pressed himself against the wall. “Tell me somethin’, Phantom. What do you do when you’re not playin’ babysitter for me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Logan grunted softly, the sound of his claws extending briefly as he took a peek around the corner. “Yeah, kinda. All I get’s that voice of yours—still gotta figure out the face that goes with it.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “You’re obsessed, Wolf.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” There was a beat of silence as Logan moved silently down the hallway, bypassing the guards with ease. “But you still didn’t answer me.”

You sighed dramatically, switching to another camera feed that showed a large storage room filled with crates. “What do you think I do? Sit in a dark room, hacking into firewalls all day?”

Logan snorted. “Ain’t that what you’re doin’ now?”

“Touché.” You shifted slightly, watching him take down a lone guard with a quick, precise movement. “But no. I do have a life outside of this, you know.”

“Like what?” He sounded genuinely curious now, and you could almost picture the way his brows would be furrowed in concentration. “You got a family? Friends?”

You paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Family? Not really. Friends? Also a stretch. But you didn’t feel like sharing that right now. “I’ve got… a business to run.”

Logan was quiet for a moment. “A business, huh? Didn’t think you’d be the type to deal with customers.”

“Why not?” you shot back. “I’m very good with people, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, like the time you almost tore that guy a new one when he questioned your coding?” He chuckled, the sound low and deep in your ear. “Real people person, darlin’.”

“Okay, that was one time.” You rolled your eyes. “And he deserved it. But yeah, I’m pretty good with people—when I want to be.”

“Uh-huh.” There was a rustling noise, like he was checking through one of the crates. “What kinda business?”

You hesitated again. Part of you wanted to keep that piece of your life separate from Logan. But he’d been honest with you about a lot of things—his past, his work, even some of his regrets. It seemed only fair to give a little in return.

“...A bakery,” you finally admitted, almost cringing at how mundane it sounded compared to the world you two operated in.

There was a long pause on the other end. Then—

“A bakery?” Logan repeated, his voice thick with disbelief. “Like… cupcakes and cookies bakery?”

“Yeah, Wolf,” you said dryly, feeling heat creep up your neck. “I bake things. It’s called having a hobby.”

He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Just tryin’ to picture it, that’s all. Our resident hacker pullin’ cookies out of the oven.”

“Is that so hard to imagine?” You switched to another feed, tracking his progress through the facility. “I bet you’d like my cookies.”

“Yeah?” There was a hint of teasing in his voice now. “You gonna make some for me sometime?”

You bit your lip, surprised at the sudden flutter in your chest at the thought. “Maybe. If you’re good.”

“Darlin’, I’m always good.”

“Debatable,” you shot back quickly, but your smile softened at the edges. “But I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was another pause, and you could hear Logan’s soft exhale through the comms. “You really own a bakery?”

“Yes, really,” you said, feeling oddly defensive now. “I’m not making it up just to sound cute.”

He chuckled again. “I didn’t think that. Just… didn’t see it comin’, is all. Got any specialties?”

You blinked at the sudden change in tone, a mix of genuine curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Well, I make a mean chocolate croissant.”

“Chocolate croissant, huh?” He sounded like he was mulling it over. “Could go for one right now.”

“Focus, Wolf,” you teased, but there was a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the coffee beside you. “Get through this mission, and maybe I’ll let you try one.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” His voice was low, a promise wrapped in that simple statement.

For a moment, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. It was strange how easy it felt, talking like this. Like you weren’t two people who only knew each other through voices and screens. Like there was something more.

“Alright, I’m in position,” Logan murmured, breaking the silence. “What’s next?”

You glanced at the feed, spotting the final target. “There’s a control panel just ahead. Shut it down, and we’ll have full access to the data we need.”

“On it.” There was a soft thud as he moved forward, the sound of his claws retracting. “Phantom?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks… for keepin’ me company. Makes this kinda work a little less shit.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you struggled to find your voice for a second. “...Anytime, Wolf.”

And you meant it.

---

After 5 months of The Organization searching, the base of the mutant trafficking ring was finally found. It wasn’t just you and Logan, but other’s out on the field searching, and now things were coming to a head.

Ricky had briefed everyone—the field agents and those, like you, behind the computers. Everyone was in position, and tonight, after months of planning, the mutant trafficking ring was finally going to be shut down.

You took a steadying breath, fingers hovering over your keyboard. The screens in front of you were filled with various feeds: security cameras, schematics of the building, comms channels. It was go-time, and as much as you liked to pretend you were calm, there was a knot of tension in your stomach. You knew what was riding on this mission—innocent lives, and for some reason, your thoughts kept circling back to one person in particular.

“Phantom, you there?” Logan’s voice came through your earpiece, low and steady.

“Yeah, Wolf. Right here.” You sat up a little straighter, adjusting the headset. “You good?”

“Never better.” He sounded almost amused. “How ‘bout you? Keepin’ those fingers of yours nimble?”

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’m ready to go. All feeds are online, and I’ve got eyes on every entrance. You’re at the west side of the building, right?”

“Yep.” He paused, and you heard the faint shuffle of boots against gravel. “What’s your status?”

“Locked and loaded,” you replied, scanning the feeds. “Looks like we’ve got a dozen guards outside, plus more scattered throughout the building. The main target’s in the central office on the second floor. You’ll need to cut through the lower levels to get there.”

“Got it. You got eyes on the others?”

You quickly toggled between the different comms channels, listening in on reports from the other teams. “Everyone’s in position. Team Alpha is covering the south, Bravo’s moving to secure the exit routes. You’re clear to start your approach.”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, and you watched on one of the monitors as he started moving through the shadows, staying low and out of sight.

“Be careful, Wolf,” you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.

“Careful’s my middle name,” he drawled back, a hint of that signature cockiness coming through. “You just keep those pretty eyes on the feeds and tell me if someone’s gonna try and sneak up on me.”

“Always do,” you shot back, smiling despite the tension in the air.

There was a pause on his end, and then: “What’s the fastest way to the office from here?”

You glanced at the building’s layout, quickly mapping out a route in your head. “Take the staircase to your right, follow the hallway down two doors, then take a left. You should be able to bypass most of the guards that way. Just… watch for the tripwires.”

“Roger that. Stay on me, Phantom.”

“Like I’m ever not.” You kept your eyes glued to the screen as Logan moved through the facility with practiced ease. Despite the tension thrumming through your veins, there was a strange calmness in listening to his breathing over the comms, knowing you were right there with him, even if it was only in a digital sense.

“How’s it look up ahead?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Two guards at the end of the hall,” you reported, zooming in on one of the feeds. “They’re armed, but they’re not paying attention. You should be able to take them out quietly.”

Logan didn’t respond, but you saw him slip into the corridor, moving like a shadow. A few seconds later, both guards were down, and he was back on the line. “Clear.”

“Nice work, Wolf.” You leaned forward, fingers flying over the keyboard to hack into the security system. “I’m disabling the cameras on the next floor. You should have a clear path to the office, but I’m picking up some chatter—looks like they’re getting suspicious.”

“Let ‘em get suspicious.” There was a low, dangerous edge to his voice now. “I’m ready.”

You couldn’t help but grin a little. “That makes one of us.”

“C’mon, Phantom, you know you love this shit,” he teased, but there was a warmth in his tone that made your heart skip a beat. “All that adrenaline. Gets the blood pumpin’, doesn’t it?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head even though he couldn’t see you. “I’m not the one out there risking my neck. That’s your job.”

“Yeah, well… you’re doin’ a hell of a job keepin’ me from getting my ass shot off.” There was a pause, and then he added, almost softly, “Don’t know what I’d do without you, darlin’.”

You blinked at the screen, momentarily caught off guard by his words. “...Just stay focused, Wolf. I’m not pulling your ass out of this if you get cocky.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. I’m good.” His voice turned serious again as he approached the central office. “I’m at the door. How many inside?”

You quickly cycled through the cameras, counting the figures inside. “Three guards. One unarmed. That’s the target. If you move quick, you should be able to neutralize them before they call for backup.”

“Got it.” Logan’s voice was low, almost a growl. You watched as he shifted his weight, preparing to make his move. It was always a little nerve-wracking, watching him go in like this, but you trusted him. He knew what he was doing.

Your fingers danced over the keyboard, disabling the cameras in the immediate area. “I’m taking out the cameras around the office. You’re clear for entry. Make it fast, Wolf.”

“Don’t worry. I’m on it.” He paused for a beat. “How’s the rest of the team doin’?”

You glanced at the other feeds, tracking the movements of the different teams scattered throughout the building. “Team Alpha just took out the last of the perimeter guards. Bravo’s securing the exits—no one’s getting in or out without us knowing.”

“Good. Let’s end this.” There was a soft click as Logan pushed the door open, slipping inside the office with deadly precision.

The guards barely had time to react. You watched in awe as he took them down with a combination of swift strikes and quick, lethal movements. He was a blur of action, and within seconds, the only people left standing were Logan and the target—an older man who looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Please, don’t—” the man stammered, holding up his hands in a pathetic attempt at self-defense.

“Shut up,” Logan growled, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall. “You’re gonna answer a few questions for me.”

You leaned closer to the screen, keeping an eye on the other guards roaming the hallways. “Careful, Wolf. We don’t know if he’s got any backup on standby.”

“Yeah, I got it.” He gave the man a rough shake. “Who’s runnin’ this operation? Where’s the rest of the mutants you’ve been trafficking?”

The man sputtered, his face pale. “I—I don’t know! I just handle the logistics—transport, security—”

“Bullshit.” Logan’s claws extended with a sharp snikt, and you could hear the man’s terrified gasp even through the comms. “Try again, bub. And don’t lie to me.”

You zoomed in on the screen, checking for any signs of incoming guards. “Logan, I’m picking up movement on the lower levels. It’s not one of ours—looks like reinforcements. You need to hurry.”

“Copy that.” He leaned in closer to the man, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Last chance. Where are the mutants?”

“Storage room—basement level—cage twelve!” The man practically screamed the words, his eyes wide with fear. “Please, I swear, that’s all I know!”

“Storage room, basement level, cage twelve,” you repeated quickly, already pulling up the layout of the basement. “I’m sending the coordinates to Team Bravo now.”

“Good.” Logan released the man, who slumped to the floor, trembling. He stepped back, claws retracting. “Now sit tight. You’re gonna have some company soon.”

The man whimpered but didn’t move as Logan turned and made his way out of the office. You switched your focus back to the basement, watching as Team Bravo moved in to secure the mutants.

“They’re in position,” you reported, keeping your voice calm. “Looks like… ten, no, twelve mutants total. All of them are alive.”

“Alive, huh?” Logan’s voice softened just a fraction. “That’s somethin’, at least.”

“Yeah.” You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. After months of hunting down leads, false starts, and dead ends, it was finally coming together. “We did it, Wolf.”

“Not yet, we haven’t.” His tone turned serious again. “We still gotta get ‘em outta here. You got a path?”

“Working on it.” Your fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up the building’s blueprints. “Okay, there’s an access tunnel two levels down from where you are. It leads straight to an underground parking garage. If you can get them there, we’ll have transport waiting.”

“Got it. I’ll head down now.” He paused for a moment, then added quietly, “Good work, Phantom.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at the unexpected praise. “Same to you, Wolf. Just… stay safe, okay?”

There was a soft chuckle on the other end. “Don’t you worry ‘bout me, darlin’. You just keep doin’ what you do best.”

You stayed on the line, guiding him through the lower levels as he made his way to the basement. The rest of the mission went off like clockwork—Team Bravo secured the mutants, Team Alpha kept the perimeter locked down, and Logan made sure no one got in their way.

By the time it was all over, the mutants were safe, the ring was shut down, and the remaining traffickers were either captured or taken out. It was a resounding success, and yet, as you watched Logan emerge from the building, something inside you felt… off.

“Logan?” you called out softly, your voice hesitant. “You good?”

“Yeah. Just tired.” He sounded a little rough around the edges, but that was to be expected after a mission like this. “What about you? You doin’ okay?”

You let out a soft breath, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… glad it’s over, I guess.”

“Yeah.” There was a pause, and then he added, “You did good tonight, Phantom. Real good.”

“Thanks, Wolf.” You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

He grunted softly, the sound almost affectionate. “Bet you say that to all the guys you babysit.”

“Only the ones I like,” you teased, feeling a little bolder now that the mission was over. “But seriously… thanks for trusting me out there. I know it’s not easy.”

“Trust ain’t somethin’ I give lightly,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. “But you earned it. Over and over.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you settled for a soft, “...I’m glad.”

There was another beat of silence, and then Logan’s voice came back, a little lighter. “So, when am I gettin’ that chocolate croissant?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Guess you’ll just have to swing by my bakery sometime, huh?”

“Maybe I will.” He sounded thoughtful, like he was considering it for the first time. “Soon as I figure out where the hell it is.”

“Good luck with that,” you teased, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves. “But if you do find it… first croissant’s on me.”

“I’ll hold you to that, darlin’.” There was a warm, teasing lilt to his voice now. “Take care, Phantom.”

“You too, Wolf.”

And with that, the line went quiet. You stared at the screen for a moment longer, a smile tugging at your lips. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a step—toward something new, something real.

Maybe one day, you’d get to see the look on Logan’s face when he finally tasted one of your croissants.

But for now, this was enough.

---

It had been a few weeks since the mutant trafficking ring was taken down, and since then, things from The Organization had been quiet. You were sure that soon, something would happen, and you’d have a new mission or cause to fight for, but for now, life was… normal. Or, as normal as things could get for you.

During the day, you focused on your bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries filled the small space, the steady hum of business keeping you busy. You didn’t have to think about The Organization or anything outside of kneading dough and serving customers. It was a welcome change of pace, a grounding routine that gave you some much-needed breathing room.

But at night, when the bakery was closed and the streets outside your shop went quiet, your mind wandered back to Logan—and those long conversations over the comms. The teasing back and forth. The gruff but genuine praise. The way he’d been so protective of you, even when you were just a voice in his ear.

You leaned against the counter, wiping your hands on your apron as you glanced around your empty shop. The bell above the door jingled, and you glanced up, expecting to see one of your regulars who’d forgotten to grab something before closing.

But it wasn’t one of your regulars.

It was him.

Logan.

He stood in the doorway, his broad frame almost filling it completely. A beat of silence passed as you stared at each other, and then he stepped inside, his boots making a soft thud against the wooden floor.

“Hey, darlin’.” His voice was the same deep, rough tone you remembered, and yet hearing it in person made your heart skip a beat. He glanced around the bakery, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Figured I’d finally swing by and see if your croissants live up to the hype.”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. He was here. Here. In your bakery, standing in front of you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Logan?” You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around it. “How—how did you find me?”

He shrugged like it was nothing, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Did a little diggin’. Asked around. Turns out you’re not as good at hiding as you think.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, a mix of surprise and… something else. “And you just—decided to show up out of nowhere?”

“Thought you could use some company,” he replied easily, but there was a seriousness in his gaze that told you this wasn’t just a casual visit. “Been too quiet lately. I don’t do quiet well.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Neither can I,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he glanced at the display case filled with pastries. “But since I am… you gonna give me that croissant, or what?”

The corner of your mouth lifted, and you reached behind the counter, pulling out a fresh chocolate croissant. You placed it on a small plate, sliding it across to him. “First one’s on the house, remember?”

Logan took the plate, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments. A spark shot through you, but you quickly pulled your hand back, pretending like it hadn’t happened.

He lifted the croissant, inspecting it with a critical eye before taking a bite. You watched, holding your breath as he chewed thoughtfully. Then, he swallowed and nodded.

“Not bad, Phantom. Not bad at all.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, a smile breaking out on your face. “Just ‘not bad?’ I think I’m a little insulted.”

He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Okay, fine. It’s good. Real good.” He took another bite, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t ya?”

“I could say the same about you.” You leaned against the counter, studying him. In the soft light of the bakery, he looked a little more relaxed, less guarded. There was still that roughness to him, but there was something else, too—a quiet sort of contentment. “So, what’s the real reason you’re here, Logan?”

He raised an eyebrow, finishing off the croissant before setting the plate down. “What, a guy can’t visit his favorite hacker?”

“Nice try.” You gave him a look, crossing your arms. “But I know you better than that.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I just wanted to see for myself that you’re okay. That this place is real. That you’re… real.”

You felt something tighten in your chest, your gaze softening. “I’m real, Logan. You know that.”

“Yeah.” He looked around again, as if trying to memorize every detail of your little shop. “But it’s different, seein’ it with my own eyes.”

There was a weight to his words, a sincerity that made your heart ache a little. You’d spent so many nights talking to him, listening to his voice, getting to know him in a way that felt almost… intimate. And now he was here, standing in front of you, and it felt like a dream.

“Do you—” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Do you want to stay for a bit? I’ve got coffee. Or tea, if that’s more your style.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Coffee sounds good.”

You turned to make a fresh pot, your hands moving on autopilot as your mind raced. What did this mean? Why now? You’d thought maybe, someday, you’d meet Logan in person, but you hadn’t expected it to be like this—so sudden, so… normal.

“So,” Logan drawled, leaning against the counter as he watched you, “what’s next for you? Gonna hang up your hacker hat and just focus on bakin’?”

You glanced over your shoulder, giving him a wry smile. “You think I could actually stay out of trouble for long?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Nah. Don’t think you’re cut out for the quiet life, darlin’.”

“Guess we have that in common, huh?” You poured the coffee, sliding a mug over to him. “But for now… I’m taking a little break. I think I’ve earned it.”

“Yeah, you have.” He took the mug, his fingers brushing against yours again. This time, neither of you pulled away. “So… what’s the plan now? Just you and the bakery?”

“For now.” You shrugged, looking around the shop. “It’s nice. Calming, even. Keeps me grounded.”

Logan studied you for a long moment, his gaze intent. “You know, I never pictured you like this. With flour on your apron and—what’s that?” He reached out, brushing his thumb lightly against your cheek. “Frostin’ on your face?”

You froze at the contact, your breath catching in your throat. His touch was surprisingly gentle, the roughness of his thumb contrasting with the softness of your skin. You stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy of the moment.

“I—uh—” You cleared your throat, feeling your face heat up. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Hmm.” His thumb lingered for a heartbeat longer, then he pulled back, his expression softening. “Guess it suits you.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your racing heart. “What about you? What’s next for the great Wolverine? Gonna go back to the X-Men?”

Logan chuckled, leaning back slightly as he sipped his coffee. “Who said I ever left? Maybe I was doin’ this as my side job.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Oh, so the big bad Wolverine has a side hustle now? Should I be worried you’re going to start making croissants too?”

He smirked. “Nah, I’ll leave the bakin’ to you. But maybe I’ll stick around, see how things go.” His eyes held yours, that familiar teasing edge mixed with something else—a quiet intensity.

“Stick around?” you asked, not entirely sure where he was going with this. “In New York? Thought you weren’t a fan of big cities.”

Logan shrugged, his gaze flicking around your cozy bakery again. “It grows on ya. Plus, I got reasons to hang around now.”

The way he said it, so casual but pointed, made your heart skip a beat. “Reasons, huh?”

He leaned forward, setting his mug down on the counter. “Yeah, Phantom. You think I spent all those nights listenin’ to you talk, gettin’ to know you, just to go back to business as usual?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the directness of his words. You tried to bring things back to normal, to calm your racing heart, but perhaps you only made it worse with his response. “Y- you don’t have to call me that, you know? Or- anymore, at least.”

Logan’s eyes locked onto yours, a spark of curiosity flickering in his gaze. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the counter. “Oh yeah? So, what should I call ya?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his question. It was such a simple thing—your real name. Something you’d kept hidden, not out of fear, but because keeping a wall between your real life and Phantom had made things… easier. Safer, even. But you felt safe with him standing in front of you, even if it was the first time meeting face to face.

“Y/N.” You finally said, quietly with a small smile.

Logan’s eyes softened, something shifting in his expression as he repeated your name—almost testing it out. “Y/N, huh? Suits you.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the warmth spreading through your chest. “Figured it was time to be on a first-name basis, Wolf.”

His lips twitched into a smirk at the nickname. “Wolf,” he repeated, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. “You’ve been callin’ me that for months. Thought you’d drop it once I was standin’ right in front of ya.”

“Why would I do that?” you shot back, your smile growing a little more confident. “It suits you, Wolf.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough.” He leaned back, his gaze never leaving yours. “Guess I’ll stick with ‘Phantom’ for old times’ sake.”

“‘Y/N’ is fine,” you said softly. “I think we’re past codenames.”

He nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Y/N, then.” The way he said it—slow and deliberate—made your heart flutter. There was something so personal about it, so… intimate. You’d spent so long hiding behind ‘Phantom’ that hearing your real name in his voice felt almost surreal.

You glanced down at the counter, clearing your throat to break the tension. “So,” you said slowly, a hint of mischief creeping into your tone, “now that you’ve tried my croissants, what’s next on the list? Gonna critique my muffins too?”

Logan’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting. “Oh, I’m definitely stickin’ around long enough to try everything on that menu, darlin’. Gotta make sure it’s all up to snuff.”

“Uh-huh. Just don’t expect me to bake for you every day,” you teased, but there was a warmth in your voice that you couldn’t quite hide.

“I dunno,” he drawled, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone. “Kinda like the idea of you makin’ me breakfast.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat. You chuckled back at him, putting the towel in your hand over your shoulder, “yeah? Bet you say that to all the women you meet.”

Logan’s smirk grew, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way you’d come to recognize as trouble. “You think I go around findin’ bakeries just to get breakfast from pretty hackers?”

“Pretty hackers?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t know I was your type, Wolf.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair with an easy confidence. “You’re my type if you keep makin’ croissants like that.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Nice recovery.”

There was a beat of silence, and Logan’s smirk softened, replaced by a more thoughtful look. His eyes swept around the shop again, taking in the cozy space as if trying to understand something deeper about it—about you.

“This place,” he said quietly, breaking the silence. “It’s yours, huh?”

“Yeah,” you replied, a touch of pride in your voice. “Bought it a couple of years ago. Did most of the renovations myself. Not the hacking kind, though.”

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on the shelves lined with baked goods and the flour-dusted counter. “Figured you’d be in some high-tech lab or somethin’. Not… this.”

You smiled, glancing around your bakery. “What? Don’t think I can bake and hack at the same time?”

“Nah, it’s not that.” He paused, his brow furrowing slightly as if he were searching for the right words. “Guess I just never thought about what your life looked like when you weren’t on a mission.”

“Well,” you said softly, meeting his eyes. “This is it. Flour, sugar, and a whole lot of early mornings.”

Logan tilted his head, studying you like he was seeing a whole new side of you. “It suits ya.”

You shrugged, feeling a bit exposed under his gaze. “It’s not as exciting as fighting bad guys, but… it’s mine.”

“Doesn’t have to be exciting all the time,” he murmured. His voice was quieter now, more serious, and it made you pause. “Sometimes… it’s the quiet stuff that matters.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, your heart doing that annoying fluttering thing it did whenever he got unexpectedly sincere. “Yeah, well, quiet doesn’t seem to be your style, Logan.”

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “Yeah, guess not. But maybe I’m workin’ on that.”

You gave him a playful smirk. “You? Working on ‘quiet’? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He leaned forward, his arms resting on the counter as he looked at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe you’ll see it sooner than you think.”

Your teasing smile faltered slightly, your heartbeat picking up again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Logan held your gaze for a long moment, something unspoken hanging in the air between you. “Means I’m stickin’ around, Y/N. If you’re okay with that.”

Your breath caught at the way he said your name—your real name, not Phantom. There was a weight to it, like he wasn’t just talking about the bakery or the city. He was talking about you.

“Logan,” you started, your voice a little shaky as you tried to keep it light, “are you saying you want to be a regular customer?”

He smirked, but the seriousness in his eyes didn’t fade. “Somethin’ like that. Thought maybe I’d get to know the person behind the croissants… and the computer screens.”

Your heart raced, and you couldn’t help but smile, even though you felt a little breathless. “Well, considering you just showed up without a warning, I’d say you’re off to a good start.”

Logan’s smirk widened. “Always liked makin’ an entrance.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, shaking your head, “next time, maybe give a girl a little heads-up.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he teased, though his voice had softened.

You didn’t have a snappy comeback for that, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The bakery felt smaller, quieter, like the world outside had paused, leaving just the two of you in this little bubble. You’d known him for months, heard his voice in your ear during some of the craziest situations, but this—standing here in the same room, with him right there—felt different. Real.

“So,” you said after a beat, your voice a little quieter now, “what’s the plan? You just gonna hang out in New York for a while? Or…?”

Logan shrugged, but there was something thoughtful in his expression. “Dunno. Figure I’ll stick around, see how things play out. Been on the move too long. Might be time to slow down a bit.”

“Slow down?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t sound like me, does it?”

You smiled, leaning against the counter. “Well, if you’re serious about sticking around, you’d better be ready for a lot of early mornings.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to the flour on your apron and the slight mess on the counter. “Early mornings, huh? Guess I can handle that. Long as there’s coffee.”

You laughed softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest again. “I think I can manage that.”

There was another pause, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that felt… nice. Like neither of you were in a rush to fill the space with words.

Finally, Logan straightened up, glancing toward the door. “Guess I’ll let ya get back to it. Don’t wanna keep you too long.”

You felt a flicker of disappointment, but you quickly pushed it down, giving him a smile instead. “You’re always welcome, you know. Next time, I’ll save you a muffin.”

Logan’s smirk returned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that, darlin’.”

He took a step toward the door, but then he paused, glancing back at you. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat at the way he said your name again.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he said softly, his gaze holding yours for just a moment longer before he turned and walked out the door, the bell above it jingling softly in his wake.

You stood there for a long moment, staring at the door long after he was gone, your heart still racing.

---

Logan’s unexpected visit left you in a whirlwind. For the next few days, it was hard to focus on the usual routines of the bakery. Each time the bell over the door chimed, your heart leapt a little, thinking maybe, just maybe, it’d be him again. But Logan didn’t show, and you tried to remind yourself not to overthink it. He was just… being Logan. Coming and going as he pleased, without a word or explanation.

But then, one evening, just as you were flipping the Open sign to Closed, you noticed something slipped under the door—a folded piece of paper with your name scrawled across it in a familiar, rugged handwriting.

You picked it up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, and opened it.

Got a place in mind. Be ready at 7. —W

No address. No other details. Just a time and a cryptic note.

You found yourself smiling despite your confusion. Of course, he’d pull something like this. He couldn’t just ask you to dinner like a normal person—he had to be all mysterious about it. But then again, it was part of his charm.

The day passed in a blur. By the time you were getting ready, nerves had settled in. What exactly did Logan mean by ‘got a place in mind’? Was this a date? Just… friends hanging out?

You pushed the thoughts away and focused on getting dressed. Something casual, but not too casual. Comfortable, but still showing you’d put in some effort. You settled on a pair of well-fitting jeans and a soft sweater that was flattering but not over-the-top.

Right at 7, there was a soft knock on your door. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and opened it.

Logan stood there, looking the same as always and yet… different. Maybe it was the way he’d traded his usual jacket for a dark button-down, or the fact that he looked a bit unsure himself, his gaze flicking over you in silent appraisal before settling on your eyes.

“You look good,” he said, his voice gruff, but there was an honesty in his tone that made your cheeks warm.

“Not bad yourself, Wolf,” you replied, earning a small, almost shy smile from him.

“Ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.

“Ready,” you confirmed, and you stepped outside, locking the door behind you.

---

Logan had borrowed a bike—one of those big, heavy motorcycles that roared to life when he turned the ignition. He tossed you a helmet, then helped you onto the back. Your hands found their way around his waist, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just that—your arms around him, the rumble of the engine beneath you, and the feel of his solid form against you.

“Hold on tight, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and rough in a way that made you shiver.

The ride through the city was exhilarating, the cool night air whipping past you as Logan navigated the streets with ease. You had no idea where he was taking you, but you trusted him. You’d always trusted him.

Finally, he pulled up to a secluded spot along the East River, away from the usual tourist traps and bustling crowds. You could see the lights of the city skyline reflected in the water, the soft sounds of the river lapping at the shore creating a serene backdrop. There was a small wooden table set up nearby, with a blanket laid out and a picnic basket resting on top of it.

You blinked in surprise, glancing between the setup and Logan. “Did… did you do this?”

Logan rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “Yeah, well. Figured we’ve had enough high-stakes meetin’s. Thought you deserved somethin’ different.”

Your heart melted a little at that. He’d gone through the trouble of planning something just for you—a quiet evening, just the two of you, away from the chaos of missions and comms.

“It’s perfect,” you said softly, meeting his eyes.

He gave a small nod, visibly relieved by your reaction. “Good. Now c’mon, let’s eat before it gets too cold.”

The two of you settled down at the table, and you couldn’t help but smile as Logan unpacked the basket. It was mostly simple stuff—sandwiches, fruit, a bottle of wine—but there was an almost endearing quality to it, like he’d put in effort but hadn’t tried to overdo it.

“Didn’t know what you liked, so I kinda… winged it,” he admitted, glancing at you almost nervously.

“It’s perfect,” you repeated, smiling at him. “And honestly? I’m just happy you’re here.”

Logan’s gaze softened, his eyes lingering on you in that way that made your stomach flip. “Yeah. Me too.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. You talked about everything and nothing—the bakery, old missions, even random bits about your lives that had never come up before. He was surprisingly open, and you found yourself sharing more than you usually would, the relaxed atmosphere making it easy to let your guard down.

As the evening went on, you found yourself inching closer to him. At some point, the two of you ended up side by side on the blanket, the picnic basket forgotten as you stared out at the lights reflecting on the water.

There was a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled. You glanced over at Logan, feeling that familiar flutter in your chest. He was looking at you with an expression that was hard to read—soft, almost contemplative.

“What?” you asked softly, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“Just thinkin’,” he murmured, his voice low and rumbling. “You’re even prettier in person, you know that?”

You felt your face heat up, and you looked away, letting out a soft laugh. “Logan—”

“I mean it,” he interrupted gently, reaching out to brush your cheek. His touch was light, tentative, like he wasn’t quite sure if it was okay. “Been drivin’ myself crazy, wonderin’ what you’d look like. But seein’ you now… Hell, Y/N, I don’t think I did you justice.”

Your breath caught at the way he said your name, his gaze intense and unwavering. There was something raw and honest in his expression, like he was laying himself bare in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Logan…” you whispered, the words dying on your lips as he leaned in, his face inches from yours.

“I shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he murmured, his voice low and almost regretful. But he didn’t move away. If anything, he shifted closer, his breath brushing against your skin. “But I’ve been wantin’ to since the moment I heard your voice.”

Your heart was pounding, every nerve in your body alive with anticipation. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered, your own voice trembling.

Logan’s gaze flicked down to your lips, and for a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze. Then, slowly—like he was giving you every chance to pull away—he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, most tentative of kisses.

It was gentle at first, like he was testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull back—when you leaned in, your fingers tangling in the front of his shirt—something seemed to break. He deepened the kiss, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

The kiss was everything you hadn’t known you’d been waiting for—slow and sweet, but with an underlying intensity that left you breathless. You melted into him, the world around you fading away until there was nothing left but the feel of his lips on yours and the warmth of his hand against your cheek.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, you were both breathing hard, your hearts racing in sync.

“Damn, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “Didn’t think it’d feel like that.”

You laughed softly, your own voice a little shaky. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Logan smiled—a real, genuine smile that made your heart ache. “Think we should do it again?”

You grinned up at him, feeling lighter than you had in ages. “Yeah, Wolf. I think we should.”

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ Double The Fangs, Double The Fun

➳ Summary: Daryl and Scud are regulars at the bar you work at, but they're only really there for you. One night while chatting, you injure yourself, so they help you home to heal up (Vamp!Daryl & Vamp!Scud x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: idfk sometime, somewhere, no apocalypse (this is a crossover fic for smut lets be real)

➳ Word count: 5.5k (3k of it is smut)

➳ C/W: VAMPIRES ‼️‼️, minor wound, blood (duh), biting/vampire feeding, double penetration, hints of Scud's mommy kink

➳ A/N: I wrote doc title for this as “DTFx2” cuz of the lettering, not even realizing the “down-to-fuck” till later, plus it being 2 partners – I cooked on this title. BUT ANYWAY I AM FUELING THE VAMP!DARYL FIRE AND VAMP!SCUD TOO BECAUSE THIS IS A PLAGUE AND I AM ILL AND I WILL SPREAD IT

You stretched your arms up over your head, leaning forward against the counter in front of you. It was another slow weeknight, no customers present, hindered by the fact the bar was tucked away in some deader part of the city. It was pretty boring, but you got paid for kinda just diddleling around a lot of the time. You rhythmically tapped your fingertips against the surface, but straightened up when the door jingled open.

“Fuck, I was about to start praying you two would show up. ‘Ts borin' as shit in here,” You laughed as two familiar faces walked in from the night; Daryl and Scud. They were your regulars, stopping by most any time you were on shift. And you heard from coworkers sometimes they'd show up, see that you weren't there, and just leave.

You never found it creepy though, it wasn't like that. They were always very respectful towards you, kind of chivalrous, but not obnoxiously. They'd always buy a drink and tip heavy, or just straight up give you money – and would scare off the actually creepy drinkers: the one's that'd prey on a woman as if she was frail. You didn't require them, having pepper spray and a gun beneath the counter, but they gave you extra security. And we're good company.

Scud, who you knews real name was Josh – the more ‘loverboy’ one of the two – popped by most nights after work. He was really sweet, having grown a soft spot for him and letting him bend the rules; like allowing him to smoke a joint, or three, inside, so long as he shared them with you. He claimed he was a sort of engineer, which you found a little surprising given you'd never seen him without the skunky smell of weed wafting around his figure, but it's not like it mattered to you.

Daryl, on the other hand, was much more reserved, and you'd be lying if you said that didn't intrigue you. He appeared older, and more of a rarity, seeming to drift in and out of town: which made sense given that scratchy, deep southern accent he carried.

“Ain't gon’ pass up seein’ ya, moonshine,” Daryl grinned as he sauntered up to take a seat, Scud following right behind and taking the one opposite him. ‘Moonshine’ is what he always called you, given you were a bartender, and it was ironic because you never saw either of them till after sundown. “Shift slow?”

“Painfully,” You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Ion even know how we get enough profit to keep this place open. Not sure anyone in our staff remembers the last time we saw the owner in person. I swear this is some money laundering scheme.”

“‘Least your gettin’ paid, yeah? My boss don't even got me onna regular schedule,” Scud tisked, reaching into the pocket of his large, layered jacket and pulling out the container he kept his joints in. “Ya wanna J?”: To which you nodded and he passed you one. Daryl's observant gaze watched your every movement, as he typically did.

“Ya get yer nails done, darlin’?” He asked, squinting his pale blue eyes and setting his hand out as you lit the joint.

“Hm?” Your eyes flicked to him, understanding, and you set your palm in his hand so he could see. Pressed to your nail beds were coffin acrylics, painted a rich red, the gloss making them almost bloody. “Jus’ got ‘em done this morning. Figured if ‘m gonna be sittin’ here twiddling my thumbs half the time they might as well look good.”

“Looks perfect on ya.” Your gazes locked together for a moment, hypnotic in a way as his irises seemed to pulse, then suddenly shift down. He loomed closer and ran his thumb over your fingers, appreciating the gleaming texture that reflected in the dim light.

“Real pretty momma's,” Scud added as he took a long drag of his smoke, holding it for a moment before skillfully exhaling in a long plume that dissipated and began to fill the small space with a haze.

“Mm, thank you boys,” You turned a little, offering a bashful smile at their endless complimenting – they showered you with affectionate comments every time they came in. “Either of you want somethin’? It can be on the house, think the workers drink more than customers.”

“‘Ll take'ah whiskey – ‘nd m’payin’ ya anyway, angel,” Daryl replied, fishing for his wallet and passing you bills that more than doubled the price of a shot. Frankly you felt bad sometimes, like you were taking his money, but gave up a long time ago with trying to decline. He insisted.

As you went to grab the iconic bottle of Jack Daniel's off the shelf behind you, your elbow stuck out a bit too far and knocked over a large glass you'd been using for water, sending it to the floor where it shattered. “Ugh, never complain that you're bored at work. Fate'll always make ya clean.”

You quickly poured the auburn grog into a shot and slid it across the wood countertop to Daryl, dropping to your knees to pick up the larger shards.

“Fuck!” You seethed, accidentally slicing open the palm of your hand by sweeping it over the edge of a fragment in the other, your joint nearly falling from where you'd pinched it between your lips. Both men bounded from their stools to look over, simultaneously uttering ‘Ya alrigh's?''s. You half-clutched your fist and rose to be level again, hitching your breath with a small whine as striking pain electrified your nerves.

Blood quickly began to spill from the gash, running down your wrist and upper forearm before dripping to the floor a couple times as Daryl snapped to grab a clean rag from behind the bar so you could hold pressure, moving so fast he registered as just a whoosh. As your eyes were shut in pain, theirs were blown open, locked onto the crimson that tinted your skin. They could see the microscopic way it gushed a bit more from every beat of your heart.

Tendrils of that sweet, mind warping scent curled through the air and around the pair's bodies. God it smelled so damn good – you smelled so good. They didn't wish you harm, but they'd just been agonizingly waiting to someday, by some chance, get to smell the life-giving fluid that pumped through your veins without the blockage your skin created, keeping the complete experience inside of you. And they could only dream of getting to taste it…

You spun back to face them, and swore for a second, the color of both their blue eyes had altered to match the plasma soaking into the grey washcloth in your grip – their faces flat like they hadn't eaten in years and you just baited the idea of a gourmet feast. But once you blinked, they were back to azure, concern etched across eyebrows and frowns. Maybe it was just the shitty brilliance of the bar.

“‘M fine, jus’ being mindless I guess. Scud, how the hell are ya smokin’ and working with wires ‘n soldering shit,” You shook your head, blaming your incident on the brain fog from weed, although it was a poor excuse given it should not have taken effect that fast. Perhaps you were just embarrassingly locked on auto-pilot.

“Ya look like yer bleedin’ bad, princess. Lemme see.” Daryl beckoned you over and took your hand. His body tensed, that dangerous feeling of his canines extending creeping up. It took all he had to not press his mouth to you. He knew better, he had control. You let him remove the rag, examining the cut and finding it to be quite deep, him stating it might have to be closed

“We don't got any medical stuff here ‘sides maybe a few bandaids. I'd be surprised if anybody else came in ‘ere tonight so I'll just close up ‘n deal with it home. Sorry to cut our chat time short guys…” You gave a half frown, taking an unsteady inhale and trying to mask the aching in your extremity. You smothered the joint, enjoyment ruined.

“Don't gotta apologize mama's. Wantcha to be okay,” Scud commented, mirroring your expression. Looking between him and Daryl, you felt there was some synergy connecting them, like they were communicating despite both staring at you.

“Why don't we take ya home, mebbe have me patch tha fer ya, hm?” Daryl suggested, readjusting his leather jacket as he tilted his head slightly.

“Oh, no. I don't wanna bother either of ya with that…”

“‘Ts no bother, sugar. We wanna make sure you're safe. ‘Ts late, dark, ‘nd you're bleedin’. Don't want anythin’ bad happening to ya,” Scud explained, his every word ending on a sort of mewl as he plucked his joint from his mouth to speak clearly.

“Alright – just cause I know you two will follow me to check anyway.” You grabbed your things, Daryl and Scud helping to close up the bar so you didn't further injure yourself, then leaving with you. It was reasonable for them to come with, and this wouldn't be the first time. And this wasn't the safest part of town, so it wouldn't hurt to have them.

❥-》》—————➣

When you returned to your apartment, both of them praised your designing of the interior, having not been inside before. To you it wasn't much of anything special, but again, it was just in their nature to say kind things to you.

You nodded Daryl in the direction of your bathroom so he could grab some ointment and gauze, going to sit on the couch as Scud plopped beside you. You easily could've nursed it yourself, but if there was anything you really knew about Daryl, it was his tendency to always be doing favors – and not letting you decline.

“Y'know… I know a way tah make that heal faster than any dressings could,” Scud broke the silence, dragging his gaze over your frame, and landing on your hand where you still held the soiled rag. He couldn't fucking take it anymore. He didn't have the control that Daryl did.

“What do you mean?” You now faced him, confused at the way his breathing seemed to grow a bit heavier, chest puffing further out despite his lazy posture. But he straightened some, scooting closer to you and reaching for your hand.

“Just trust me on this…” He was salivating, bottom lip practically trembling with anticipation. He was so close, access to your fresh blood right there. God how he ached for it every time he saw your beautiful face, just so damn entranced by you. He tried not to completely lose his mind as he neared your palm.

“Um… yer gonna get it infected doin’ that.”

“Won't.” And his mouth hovered right above it.

“Seriously, Scud, what are you doing?” Now you were concerned, tempted to call Daryl back. Was this some weird sex thing? His way of trying to seduce you? Taking ‘kiss my boo-boo to make it feel better’ a bit too far. But you sensed this… energy, radiating off of him, drawing out your naïve trait of curiosity. Something felt different about him, although you guess it always did – but only now could you really perceive it, having him so close. “What are you? ”

Scud's eyes flicked up to yours, blue flipped across the scale of hues to match the color you'd caught a glimpse of at the bar – the color of your blood, and those flawless new nails. “Whadda ya think I am, sweetheart?”

As his lips peeled back with a grin, you could see the lengthy, pin-sharp fangs that descended from the roof of his mouth, glistening with his famine. Your mouth fell open, pupils dilating as realization worked through your brain. Oh shit. Oh, shit..? You didn't speak, but didn't know what to say anyway.

He chuckled at your reaction. “Jus’ relax, mama's.” Finally. His tongue darted out, dragging a long lick over the front of your wound, causing you to wince and jerk a little. It didn't particularly hurt, but was so odd at the start. Scud held back a moan, but couldn't help his remarks: “Mmm, you taste so good… bettah than I ever imagined…”

You swallowed thickly, watching him work saliva over your tender flesh, and lapping away any remnants of the blood that ran down your arm. He stared intensely into your eyes as he drew a long, excessively slow lick up your limb and back to the wound. You felt it begin to radiate, an unfamiliar warmth centralizing over the cut but spreading out into your entire palm.

He brushed his lips against your fingers with a featherlite kiss, and reluctantly pulled away, letting you watch branches of skin connect together from both sides, color quickly shifting back to your normal tone, and your hand completely unscathed. You flexed your tendons, feeling it for yourself. It was completely healed, a two-week time lapsing into under a minute.

“Why'd ya show ‘er.” Daryl's voice was stern, silently standing behind the couch and startling you as you whipped around. You should've figured – it wouldn't take that long to find simple first aid in your bathroom.

“Known ‘er for long enough, D. Why let'er suffer with some gash if we can just heal it for her?” Scud replied and shrugged innocently. But his wording was key; ‘we’.

“You're both vampires,” You nodded dryly as Daryl grumbled something under his breath and came around the couch to sit on the other side of you. Now the ‘moonshine’ was really ironic. “Okay… I assume if you were gonna drain me ya woulda done it by now.”

“Don't tempt me, baby,” Scud smirked, and Daryl shot him a harsh glare. “What? Sure she appreciates the healin’ at least!”

“Yeah, I do… but it's weirdly intimate, no? Just, wetly runnin’ yer tongue all over someone, gathering saliva on their skin, tastin’ the irony remnants of their blood-”

“Quit talkin’ like that,” Daryl hissed, your sight passing back to him, watching his adam's-apple bob and his jaw tense. His eyes reddened as well, and it dawned on you how teasing your choice of dialogue must've been for them.

“Or keep goin’. Like hearin’ your gorgeous voice say such pretty words,” Scud wet his lips, volume just above a whisper. You felt trapped between two sides of a spectrum, both equally covet… and you were way more into it than you would ever want to admit. Your jaw laxed with a weary breath, mind wandering further ahead than you liked it to. “But you're right, can be real intimate.” His voice dropped lower as he neared you, keeping sights intertwined.

“You're torturing me momma's… pleas’... would give anythin’ to feel ya,” He almost whimpered, puppy dog eyes peering up at you. “He would too, he's jus’ a lil’ more shy.”

It'd be the fattest lie of your life to say you didn't find him attractive, both of them. Closing the door behind you some nights after they'd walked you home, tempted to just bring them inside. How many times you muttered dirty words as your legs tangled in your bedsheets and you touched yourself, imagining how they'd sound in Scud's whiny hitches, or Daryl's gravelly grunts…

You reached up, taking Scud's chin in the light hold of your acrylics and bringing his mouth to yours. He directly melted, turning to puddy from that alone and cravingly dabbing your lips with his tongue. When you pulled back, he tried to follow, pining for more. But you wanted to be fair, and switched to the other man.

Daryl looked like he didn't know what to do, that effort of displaying confidence broken the second the gate he'd been waiting outside of for so long actually opened. But a quick ‘C'mere’, and the curling of your pointer finger brought him to you expeditiously, rough lips chafing over your moisted ones. He shoved away his groan, not quite ready for that yet.

“This ain't gonna stop at kissin’, right?” You checked on an exhale, both their eyes boring into you from either plane, the patterns of their breathing reworking themselves. Dropping it here would be teasing you now.

“S’ain't gon’ stop less ya want it to, moonshine,” He rasped, irises captivating and luring you back to him, clawed hand coming to his cheek – that made the groan slip. He inhaled sharply, ardently guiding his tongue into your mouth, which definitely made Scud jealous.

The engineer brought his hands to your waist, toying with the seams of your shirt as Daryl harshly tugged you closer to him, gaining momentum, growing hungrier. He explored the entire cavity of your mouth, feeling the heat of your gums, the smoothness of your teeth in comparison to his canines, and drew a moan from your throat, hints of a smile crinkling.

“Yer not good at hidin’ whatcha want, honeysuckle,” The southerner purred, trailing down to your jawline as Scud's lips pressed to the nape of your neck. You weren’t sure if he could tell by your body language, or was able to read your mind or something; all the near whorish thoughts running through your psyche.

“Then you should know how long I've thought about this.”

Daryl immediately hooked his strong arms under your thighs, shoving Scud back to stand up off the couch, your legs instinctively latching around his torso as he started to leave a hickey on your neck and find his way to your bedroom.

Scud awkwardly stood behind for a second, shyly glancing to the floor, feeling literally and figuratively pushed aside by the other's dominance. “C'mon Scuddy,” You mouthed, and he looked like he came in pants right there – hurdling to track after you.

Daryl roughly threw you onto the edge of your bed, simultaneously ripping your shirt up over your head. He reached down for the button of your jeans, quickly popping it out and tearing them off, leaving you in just your lacey, red bra and panties.

“Jeez, you ‘nd fuckin’ red, woman.” He bordered on a growl, sliding off his jacket and tossing it to the floor. You sat upright on the rim the mattress, aiding Scud in dropping his many layers, but he teetered like he just wanted to fuck himself senseless with all it still on.

Both them now shirtless, you raked your nails down their chest, taking extra notice to follow the lightning-like scars carved into Scud's abdomen to your left. You let out a breathy curse at their defined v-lines and mouthwateringly sexy happy trails, discarding Daryl's belt, and gently cupping his pulsing erection through his jeans – the same through Scud's cargos.

One twitched, then the other, and you chuckled. “You two really want me that bad, huh?” You questioned, beaming up through your lashes with a flirty smirk: but that mischievous temping simmered seeing the pure lust on their features. They looked like they were gonna eat you alive, and honestly… you wouldn't mind it.

You undid their pants to drop them down, and with some sort of unspoken permission translating between the three of you, they pounced forward, resistance snapping like twigs. Scud hauled your body up the bed and instantaneously found your lips, already gasping into your mouth. His hands each found one of your breasts, fondling and pawing impatiently through your bra.

Daryl grabbed your hips, tugging you back down a little and drawing a wet lick from the hem of your panties up your navel, holding you to him as your spine arched. He kissed and sucked at the delicate skin on your pelvis and inner thighs, leaving behind litters of those gentle bruises on the surface, spotting across the curves of your body. His fangs grazed you as he worked, a persistent reminder of what a feral vampire could just take from you – but he was a humble man, and prefered to give.

You directed Scud to strip your bra, given he'd basically lost all ability to function the second your clothes were off, and even worse once he was on you. Now with your chest fully out, he was gone. He greedily sucked one nipple into his mouth, kneading the other like a cat, while Daryl curled a finger around the hem of your panties, deliberately running from side to side before he suddenly ripped them away – literally ripped. “Promise ‘ll buy ya new ones, babydoll.”

Whatever deeply guttural noise that erupted from you when Daryl's tongue made contact with your cunt was everything but holy. Your hips bucked up into his face so rapidly it almost caught him off guard, his palms splayed out on your thighs and his mouth latched onto your clit. He sucked in rapid pumps, before trawling down then back up and spreading your folds. He lapped up every bit of your pooled wetness, taking a deep inhale and the hidden claws in his fingertips nearing shooting out as his toes curled.

“Fuck! Yer pussy smell's'so fuckin’ good.” His words came out as near snarls, reverberating against your core. Should the view of him not have been obscured by Scud, you're sure you would've came at the sight of him so deeply intoxicated by just the scent of you. “‘Nd tastes so goddamn lovely.”

“‘Ts not fair, man, ah wanna taste ‘er-”

“Nah. Ya got ‘er hand, pussy's mine.” Now he was snarling, possessive crimson eyes stabbing into the other man as he'd turned to look back at him, burying himself deeper into your cunt and earning another wild moan. Scud frowned a little, but you brought your hands to his hips and readjusted him to be sitting on your chest, legs on either side of your body.

“Don't worry, baby.” And you rolled down his boxers so his dick was free: fully hard, tip swollen up and flushed with color, absolutely weeping for you, and it bobbed with a twitch. You wrapped your hand around the base, giving a few pressurized strokes as he bowed forward over your head and straight up whimpered in your ear, aching and pulsing and starved of touch and attention.

“Oh-.. God, momma's… t’so good…” He wove his fingers through your hair to tug lightly at the roots and anchor himself. But the second you put your tongue on him, he jerked forward and shoved into your mouth, cumming abruptly. He couldn't help it, you were; “Jus’ so warm…”

Still you swallowed it down, swiveling the tip of your tongue along the underside of his head, prolonging his high. You weren't surprised; with how frenzied he was, acting like he'd been edged for far too long – which you supposed he had, based on how he talked earlier – you pegged him for the kind to cum fast. He probably wanted you to actually peg him too.

Daryl tipped a domino by chuckling at the early orgasm, the sound waves making you moan around Scud's cock, which in return made him slide a bit deeper again. Daryl started to hum, and removed one hand from your thigh to slip two girthy fingers into you, curling them up and pressing into that sensitive spot in your walls. He focused his mouth on your clit, drawing it in with suction while he rapidly wagged his tongue, soon pumping his fingers in and out of you, and your moans picked up.

The shallow edge of Scud's claws inched further out and held your skull, careful to not scrape into your skin, but exigent nonetheless. His breathing descended into ragged heaving against the side of your head as you worked his cock like you knew every little thing that got him going.

“Getch'yer dick outta her mouth so Ah can hear ‘er cum,” Daryl barked, breaking contact from you for just a moment. Scud groaned, wanting so badly for you to deepthroat him, but he shifted over to the side, knowing Daryl would forcibly do it anyway. Now he moved impossibly faster, fingers stretching you open and filling the bedroom with wet noises from how he had you dripping.

Getting to hear you clearly now sent him into overdrive, grunting against your clit while Scud just laboriously returned to toying with your boobs. “C'mon girl, jus’ cum. Cum fer me. Wanna see yer gorgeous face.”

“Jesus, Daryl-” Your sentence split, and you cried out, trembling legs coming together and forcing him flush against you. You rode his face, a hand flying down to tug at his shaggy locks and assisting you in rolling your hips. He clutched you bruisingly hard, nearing ripping into you.

When your limbs relaxed again, he lavished long licks over your cunt, swirling the tangy, sticky nectar of your release over his entire mouth. “Mos’ perfect fuckin’ thing.”

“Pleas’ mommas, can I fuck ya?” Scud pleaded, cupping your face to catch his distress. Sharing was hard when one party was so much more controlling. Poor thing needed you.

But seeing Daryl yank down and discard his boxers, hard cock visibly throbbing and tip shaded red, he needed you too. And you could tell a blowjob just wouldn't settle it for either of them. “Fuck, just-.. both of you fuck me.”

“Can ya handle two, sweetheart?” Daryl exhorted, swiping a strayed bit of hair from your forehead and deftly tucking it back, slightly softened eyes checking for sincerity in your expression. With your nod, they acclimated to desire once again.

He flipped onto his back, and manhandled your body overtop of him, your back flattened on his chest, and Scud hurriedly positioning above. Daryl kept your legs spread apart with his, reaching around and palming at your breast while going down to slick himself between your soaked folds, slapping himself against you a couple times. “Ya tell us if s'too much, alrigh’?”

“Yea, yeah- please, just fuck me already,” You wailed as he angled you down and slipped deep into you, Scud giving you a second to adjust before coating spit over his shaft, and gently guiding into you as well.

Your back arched as Daryl held you firm, whining in delectable pain as they strained you further open than you ever had been, your acrylics digging into his waist beneath you. Scud layered himself onto you, sucking another hickey into your chest then rocking his hips a couple of times.

When you handled it well, Daryl took it as a cue to join him, plodding more in his thrusts to still give you the opportunity to bail if this wasn't to your liking. Your eyelids fluttered closed, head lulling back to rest on Daryl's shoulder as your heavy breaths fell in line with the pace. When Scud pushed in, Daryl would pull out, and vice versa: always keeping you full while maintaining the motion that granted so much ecstasy to you three. Every one of their filthy noises sounded incomprehensibly better than you'd ever pictured.

Scud mewled against you, head buried into your breasts and giving quick pecks or licks any time he wasn't being uncontrollably vocal. Daryl did the same, groaning into your shoulder and hair.

“Takin’ us so good, arentcha darlin’? So wet, pussy so tight,” Daryl hushed into your ear, hooking up faster and faster following each of his thrusts like the speed was on a multiplier.

You twisted fingers in the back of Scud's head, triggering a loud whine when you tugged on the roots of this hair and that metal choker he always wore. He started to waver, weakly humping you like his brain was fried and just focusing on staying as deep inside you as he could. “Mmm… mommy, I… ‘m so hungry. Please…” The hinges of his jaw started extending on their own, humid exhales dampening an area by your neck. Tasting hints of your blood earlier spawned a black hole that decimated the sinkhole he'd previously had caving in over time. In the near year he'd known you, that urge to just feed from your tender flesh was all he ever thought about. And now, warm walls of your cunt wrapped around him, urging him to another orgasm… He couldn't wait much longer, he was starving.

Daryl planted his feet to make up for Scud's faltering rhythm, the strengthful build of his hips and thighs making it easy to lift you. He was trying so hard to focus on just fucking you, but as the other vampire's imploring got the best of him, he started to follow suit. “Ya know yer'a damn tease, righ’ moonshine? Lookin’ so sexy all tha time, tha seductive scent ah yers… Fuck, I kno’ ya taste like heaven…” He craned his neck up, applying pressure to your carotid artery with his tongue, feeling everything he wanted pump through you at a rapid rate.

You took in a shaky breath, vivacity emanating from the both of them and encircling you. Their dicks throbbed inside of you, the drifter pistoning while the engineer hunched, but that just wasn't enough, and it made the craving so much more pressing. Their pairs of fangs rested on the edges of your skin, tracing over it, each on one side.

“Shit… just do it-.. Jus’ fuckin’ do,” You panted, and it happened so fast you barely even realized it. Scud's bite was eager, being more frantic and on your left: Daryl's more longing, savoring the feeling of piercing into your silky flesh on the right. They drew long siphons into their throats, sultry crimson flooding their systems as their eyes blazed a mutual color.

A strangled moan ripped from your being, your consciousness floating in a haze. Daryl fucked you faster, empowered by your smooth blood, grunting savagely as his razor-edged talons dug into your breasts, Scud's on your waist: but they were so careful to not rip you up.

“Mmmnngh… oh, gods momma, m’gonna cum…” Scud lost any last sense of his composure, curving his spine and slicking out of you to cum over your pelvis. He whimpered like an injured dog, anchoring himself with the teeth lodged in you, grinding against you a few times to ride out the bliss as he messied your body with lengthy ropes of white. Waves of body-wracking pleasure made him writhe around on your chest, lost in some other realm.

“Fuck… cum fer me again, dollface. Know yer good fer me,” Daryl mumbled against you, driving into your cunt with every newfound bit of liveliness he garnered from feeding on you. Your brain stopped working at this point – those red acrylic nails scratching at Daryl's thigh with your left, and Scud's back with your right.

You felt lightheaded, loss of ichor incapacitating you even as they'd ceased thirsting, just keeping fangs planted in your muscles. The crest of euphoria floated your soul to nirvana, Daryl's tip brushing past one specific golden point in your walls and shoving you off the cliff of your climax, tightening his hold on you as you bowed and bucked, vision stripped from your senses.

Your pussy spasmed and massaged around the southerner's cock, and with a final few abusing thrusts, he withdrew and spilled his own load over your folds, resistant moans rumbling from his vocal cords. All three of your chests heaved intensely, fighting to steal any oxygen from the lust-filled atmosphere of your bedroom.

Daryl's hands drifted to your midsection to push up and roll Scud off of you to the left, knowing he was too much of a fucked out mess to do it himself. He gently laid you between the two of them, smoothing a caring hand over your chest and pressing a kiss to your upper arm. “Ya feelin’ okay, moonshine? Didn't take too much, righ’?”

“Yea, ‘m good.., jus’ need a minute,” You wheezed, eyes shut and soma trying to recuperate. Daryl peeled himself from the bed, going to wet a rag, and fetch some water and food. Returning, he compassionately cleaned away the cum smeared across your curves, supporting you as he helped you drink and all – then gathered extra layers of healing saliva over your puncture wounds just to make sure they'd seal over.

He soothed you by tracing patterns with his calloused palm, the three of you resting for a long while and wrapping thoughts around what just happened.

Scud snaked his arm around yours and cuddled right up against your side, keeping lips pressed against you with his whiny hums. “Wanna feel more'ah ya mommas…” To only say he was needy was an understatement, he was full on reliant – vampiric endurance adapting the role of an exponent for such.

“Let ‘er rest.”

You brought your nails to Scud's scalp, gently scratching his head and he practically began to purr. Even if Daryl shoved him off, you appreciated how benevolent he was to you, and could tell he felt less-than right now, lacking your focus. “That spit of yours work on swellin’ too?”

He nodded with a mumbly ‘Mhm…’

“Then how bout'cha lick my pussy till it feels better, ‘nd we'll keep goin’ till botha ya are ran dry, hm?” You suggested, planting a kiss on the top of his head and sensing the energy shift.

And they were both on you all over again in an instant.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[d6volution]

Melatonin

Jax/Reader Fic. [Fem aligned reader.]

Heavy explicit content. | 1k words.

[Also found on my Ao3]

minors dni.

Jax sighs, his iconic smile briefly dropping as he stared at your tense figure, "C'mon toots, relax. You'll never get any sleep like this y'know." A gloved finger lifted your chin to face him, "Trust meee. You'll be finee." He cooed in a somewhat teasing voice, before dropping his hand and pushing your shoulders gently, allowing gravity to take over and your body to hit the plush bed beneath you. He crawled atop your smaller form, and sometimes you forget just how tall he is. You swear you see a devious glint in this eye for a moment.. You hesitated.

"I-It's not that, Jax we barely know each other and-" Words fumbled from your lips, until he shushed you, his finger touching your lips. "Ah- ah," He tuts. "Just.. see this as an exchange between two friends, yeah? A little.. help gettin' ya to sleep. That's all." He spoke while his opposing hand shoved the strap of his overalls down from his body, and they fell seamlessly. "Alright?" His words were so smooth and voice like honey, you nodded and briefly looked up at the ceiling, trying to calm your mind until- *Plop*, something heavy fell onto your stomach and you felt heat creeping up to your cheeks, a small squeak escaping your lips. You swallowed hard, "Ya gonna stare at the ceiling all night?"

His voice broke you out of your previous stupor , his hips moved grinding his already semi-hard shaft against your stomach. His smile returned, wide and mocking as he watched you glance down at his dick. "Impressed? Maybe the devs are a bunch of perverts who knows-" His hand grabbed your left breast and began kneading, his body hunching over yours. Mouth closing in on your ear, "Ah , well- let's put on a show for 'em."

your stomach was doing flips.

Before you could speak Jax flipped you over, "Oof! Jax, wa--" You protested, but only for a moment as one of his hands shoved your head into the pillow, the other looping beneath your waist and dragging you upwards, forcing your body to arch against him, "Thaaats more like it. All this talkin' is making me impatient, just let me do my thing and I promise you''ll be in dream land in no time." You could feel his eyes boring into your back, his eyes narrowing as he pushed aside the silly garb covering your wet snatch, "Heh. And here I was thinkin' you were being shy or something, good thing your bodys bein' more honestly with me dollface."

Hell. His words were only making this worse, embarrassment seeped into your core, "J-Just quit talking and do it alrea- Nngh!!" His thick shaft forced its way past your gummy walls until he was buried to the hilt, his hands gripping your hips as he sighed in relief, holding you in place as he bottomed out. "Hha... mmn, were you sayin something toots? Nnh, yeah.. keep clenching on me just like that," You whined and nuzzled the pillow, you could feel your insides spasming around him. You were sure this place made you feel far more sensitive than you felt did in the outside world. "J..Jax I feel.. nnh.."

"Uh, huh I know, I know-- you'll get use to it. In fact I think you'll love it," His hips began to move, he pulled out until just his tip was teasing at your entrance. Then he slammed back in with even more force than before, you cried out his name and his hand forced your head back into the pillow. "Aah. not too loud, you don't want your new friends to hear you gettin f&%cked into the mattress on your first night do ya?" He picked up a rhythm now, hips slapping agianst yours, every so often he'd grip the plush of your hips and pull you closer. "N-No.. I.." Your words were muffled, "Can't hear ya sweetness," His fingers lost themselves in your hair and yanked your head back, "Repeat that for me will ya?" He asked, hips still rocking you both, "I-I don't want them to hea- Aaah!!" He purposely thrusted sharply against your sweet-spot, causing you to see stars.

"Mmnh, right there huh?" He chuckled against your ear and released your hair, causing you to fall back against the pillow. "Guess, I'll focus there," He muttered and picked up the pace, focusing on the spot that caused you to moan so sweetly before. The tip of dick battering into your g-spot as you squirmed and whined beneath him. Biting the pillow to hide your embarrassing moans, "J-Just like that, keep takin' it.." He huffed and panted above you, a gloved hand swatting your ass for the heck of it. "Eep!" He noticed how you clenched down on him whenever he slapped your ass. He couldn't help but laugh, "Cl-Close.. Jax.. I'm..!" He smirked, "Already? Fine." He almost sounded just as annoyed as he sounded amused.. Except, he pulled out. "Wha.." You lifted your head from the pillows, in a daze. "Why'd you.."

"Relax, would ya?" He rolled his eyes and flipped back onto your back, grabbing your legs and folding you like pretzel as he slammed back into your needy core. Hitting your cunt even deeper this time, fucking your smaller shape into the mattress, he grunted into your ear and you moaned into his in tandem, "Please.. please..!" You didn't know what you were begging for , but Jax still answered your cries, a hand reaching down to rub quick circles onto your clit. "C'monn.. that's right, let go.." He almost growled into your ear as hips were moving like a blur now. You couldn't take it and cried out his name in pleasure, back arching against him and cunt spasming around his dick. His own hips stuttered due to the vice grip around him, "Ahh.." He sighed, releasing inside of you and allowing his weight to hold you down until he finished spilling into you. "Heh." He pulled out and took a step back from the bed to admire his work. Your body was sprawled out on the bed, chest heaving as your eyes remained half lidded. "Sleepy.." You muttered.

"'Course you are." He fixed himself up and pulled up his overalls. If you were able to look him over, you would have noticed he didn't seem to break a sweat. "Sweet dreams, toots." A familiar key swung around his finger as he strutted out the door, locking it behind him so no one would walk in and find you asleep half naked.

[shopwitchvamp]

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[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter One - The Perfect Gift

Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N (Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Stalking, Drugging, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Threats (open-ended), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real.

~3.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

"I told ye, she's perfect," Soap said, eyes on the window across the street. They could see you puttering around your living room, wearing a pretty flower print dress as you tidied up. "Good with bairns too, met her when I was pickin' up the niece and nephew from school. She was workin' for some rich family, an' they let her go because the wife found a pair of her knickers in her husband's briefcase." He snickered. He'd been the one to put them there, although, in his opinion, he’d been pushing the bounds for a long while anyway. Sure he’d essentially cast you adrift, jobless and with no one looking out for you, but, well, they were looking after you now, weren’t they? So it wasn’t all that bad.

"Good job, pup," Ghost said fondly, ruffling Johnny's hair. "Captain's gonna love 'er."

"How do you lads want to play it?" Gaz asked. "Could go in tonight. Won’t take much to knock her out, pack up her things, take her to the cabin. Get her nice and situated for when Price gets back."

"No point in waitin', is there?" Ghost asked. "Nice she's on the ground floor. Makes takin' 'er things easier. I'll go round 'n' check the windows in a bit. Should wait till after midnight. Don't want to be spotted by the neighbours."

"No' much risk o' tha'," Soap said. "Knocked over a bunch of bins last I was here and the cunts didna even turn on a light. Just the bonnie thing worryin’ while the rest of ‘em sleep sound."

Gaz lit a cigarette, nodding thoughtfully. "Small apartment too. Is there much to move?"

Soap shook his head. "Nah, no' much. Sweet girl lives simply. I told ye, she's perfect for the captain. He'll be able to spoil the fuck out of her, once she's broken in, aye?"

"Know 'e'll like that. Man needs a wife to dote on. ‘e’s been goin’ a bit crazy, all alone. An' 'e can train'er up nice."

"Think he might share?" Gaz asked wistfully, exhaling a stream of thin smoke as he sighed. "Nice soft girl like that-- Plenty to go around."

Ghost laughed. "Thought we'd 'ave trouble gettin' Johnny to keep 'is 'ands to 'imself, and you're the one droolin'."

"Scuse me for having eyes, mate. Just think she looks sweet."

"We'll get to see first 'and soon.” Ghost clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on lads. Let's get ready."

You wake up on the hard metal floor of a moving vehicle, your pounding head cradled in someone's hands. That's what you notice first, and the thumbs rubbing circles against your neck soothingly.

It has the opposite effect. Your eyes fly open.

“Hi, bonnie,” a somewhat familiar face grins down at you, blue eyes smiling, but too intense, glittering in the low light that filters in from the windows at the front of the truck. “How’s yer head?”

You grimace, trying to make sense of what’s going on around you. The back of the van seems to be filled with boxes. “Aren’t you Finn and Rory’s uncle?”

“Aw, ye remember me? Knew ye were a sweetheart.”

You try to sit up, but Johnny puts a strong hand on your shoulder and keeps you where you are. Your head feels too heavy to try and fight him, your muscles weak. “What’s going on?” you ask. “What— Is this a kidnapping?”

“Tha’s an ugly word, bonnie. We’re doin’ ye a favour, really. Settin’ ye up with someone respectable. Captain’ll take good care of ye.” He pats your cheek. “Whyna get back to sleep? Still a ways to go, aye?”

Maybe it’s just a bad, weird dream. You do feel foggy, like you’re not fully attached to your body, and keeping your eyes open is a struggle. You’ll wake up back in your own bed, and have a funny story to tell if you ever bump into Johnny again. He’s definitely too nice to be a kidnapper, right? Like, people don’t really do that sort of thing. It has to be a dream.

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes close again.

As you suspected, you wake up again in bed. The headache’s receded some, and there’s warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. You bury your face into the pillows, and then bolt upright. The pillow smells weird, like sweet tobacco and spice, and you don’t get morning sun in your bedroom. The window faces a brick wall across a narrow alley.

The room you’re in now is not your room. It’s sparsely furnished, just a dresser under the window and the bed you’re tucked into, and two doors, one that’s clearly a closet, and one that must lead out into the rest of the… house? Judging by the sound of birdsong outside, you’re out of the city.

You pad to the window and look out. There’s a van in the driveway, and three men carrying things in. One of them looks up and spots you in the window, waving cheerfully.

Not a dream. Fear grips you, ice sliding down your spine, shards settling in your stomach, needling and uncomfortable. Your sinuses prickle like you’re about to cry, but no tears come. You’re too dehydrated to summon them. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out— It’s fully daylight outside, but you have no idea what time. A second look around the room finds a digital clock sitting on the nightstand, 3:05 glaring back at you in red.

There’s a knock on the door, and it pushes open. The man who walks in is handsome, smiling at you so beautifully that your automatic response is to try and smile back, although you feel that it’s flimsy, unsure. There’s no chance that this man is here to help you, but you at least hope he’s not here to hurt you either.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. His voice is as pleasant as his face is, smooth and cheerful, although it makes you wary about him on principle. “You hungry?”

You shake your head. It’s not true, but you can’t trust that there wouldn’t be drugs in anything they give you.

“Well, come on downstairs, hm? Get some water at least. Maybe a tea?”

Your stomach churns. “I might be sick,” you manage to squeak out. He quickly ushers you out into the hall and into a bathroom. You don’t make it to the toilet, but you do manage to make it to the sink. If you had a little more fire in you, you might have tried to vomit bile onto the pretty man’s shoes, but it’s hard to shake the instinct to be good, not to make any trouble, to hope that they’ll just let you go. You’re not even sure what they want. You have no family to ransom, you don’t have any money to speak of, you’re just a fat little ex-nanny still paying off an English Literature degree from a second-rate college.

You turn on the sink to wash away the sick, and rinse your mouth out. Your hands start shaking when you realize your toothbrush is sitting in the holder next to the sink, like it belongs there. Your makeup bag is sitting on the counter too, and when you look down, you realize you’re standing on your own bathmat, taken from your home and arranged here, as if effects from your own house are supposed to make you feel comfortable. You look at your reflection in the mirror, and then at the man still standing in the doorway, his brown eyes all concern, as if he wasn’t party to a fucking nightmare.

You straighten up, gripping the counter to steady yourself. “What the hell is this?” you ask, trying to inject some authority into your quaking voice. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“I’m Gaz. Nice to meet you. Johnny had lots of nice things to say about you.”

So that hadn’t been a dream either. You look around the room desperately, looking for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, but Gaz seems to know exactly what you’re doing, and he steps into your space quickly to grab your hands.

“None of that. Come on. You’ll feel better after a tea, yeah? Then you can get ready to meet the captain.”

He leads you downstairs. Questions spin around your head, but you’re not sure if it’s worth asking. Gaz only bothered to respond to one of the three you’ve asked so far, and it wasn’t the one that you were most interested in an answer to. So you stay quiet instead, taking in the layout of the big room. A front door and a back door, and windows that look out onto a forest on one side of the property, and more forest on the other side, beyond a large cleared space with a neat garden and a few fruit trees. There’s a second building that you can just see the corner of from the kitchen window, more likely a garage than a neighbour.

Gaz backs you up against the counter and leans down slightly, his hands gripping your thighs. You panic, the touch surprising you, and slap him across the face. The sharp sound makes you freeze, like it wasn’t you that had done it. He takes advantage of your surprise to shove you up onto the counter and grab both your hands with one of his, all the friendliness draining our of his eyes in an instant as he points a scolding finger at you. You feel like you’ve done something naughty that you’re not fully aware of the implications of yet, a badly trained dog or a child. “I’m going to let that one slide, because I understand that this is a big change for you. But you’re not going to like what happens if you try that again, understood?”

You nod quickly, your own eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry,” you say, the instinct for appeasement rearing it’s skittish little head.

And then the smile returns, as pretty as before, storm clouds blowing away as though they’d never been there to begin with. “It’s alright, doll. Just don’t do it again. And definitely don’t try that attitude on with the captain.” He taps the pointing finger against your nose playfully, and lets your hands drop back into your lap.

The rules seem simple enough. Be good and sweet, and get friendly faces in return, to a degree. No matter how cooperative you are, you doubt they’re going to let you go home. Fighting back means consequences, and you’re not sure how far those consequences will extend. If you’re too much trouble, it’s not a stretch to imagine that they’ll just kill you outright and try again with a meeker woman. You don’t yet know if death would be the more preferable outcome.

You pull your sweater down over your thighs. The black zip-up hoodie isn’t yours (the word Riley is stitched onto the front of it), but it’s big, and even though it smells faintly of cigarettes, it affords you at least a little modesty and comfort, more than the tank top and the sleep-shorts you’re wearing underneath do. Riley must be the third man. Was he the captain? Or was there a fourth one somewhere?

Johnny comes through the door carrying your suitcases, and he grins widely when he sees you, the charming, boyish one that you’d thought was handsome before. It’s only unnerving now. “Didja have a good sleep, bonnie?”

“You drugged me,” you accuse.

“Weel, of course. You were no’ goan ta come all peaceable, and LT wouldna be patient if ye were cryin’ the whole way here.” He trots upstairs, and you can hear him drop the bags with a thump, before he’s clattering back down the steps and leaning against the counter next to you. “How’d’ye like yer new home, bonnie? S’a nice place, aye? Better than tha’ little shoebox back in the city.”

“I like my apartment,” you protest.

“Psh, ye’d say tha’. Puttin’ on a brave face since yer such a good girl. But it wasna verra safe, was it? No’ a single neighbour paid us any mind while we were loadin’ up yer things. No’ a good place for a single girl, aye?” He reaches out and puts a big hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Now ye’ll be taken care of, like ye should be.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of.”

“Nonsense. Ye’ll be glad, once ye get used to things. Already looks real homey in here, don’t ye think?” He gestures at the living room.

You twist to look, and your stomach sinks. Your throw pillows are on the couch, one of the afghans you crocheted hanging over the back of it. You recognize the titles of your books on the shelves. These men were nothing if not thorough, surgically removing your entire life and transplanting it to this house in the woods, with it’s wood panel walls and big, overstuffed leather couches.

He continues blithely, like he’s not delivering some of the most horrifying news you’ve ever heard. “Most of your furniture’s in the garage, ye can sort tha’ out with Price, aye? But we brought all yer clothes and decorations and whatnot in. Figure ye should wear tha’ pretty black sundress, an’ those long stockin’s with the clippy belt, ye ken the one? Cap’ll like those.”

They’d been through all your things. If you had anything left to throw up, you might’ve again. Gaz sets a glass of water on the counter next to you. “How d’you take your tea, doll?”

“Milk, two sugars,” Johnny answers for you. “Our sweet lass has a sweet tooth, aye?”

“How do you know that?” You can hear the quiver in your voice, and it doesn’t slip by either of them.

“Come oan, hen, ye ken I didna jus’ pick ye off the street. Did my research. Wouldna pick just anyone for the captain.”

“When he said he’d found the perfect girl, we didn’t believe him at first,” Gaz says, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen while the tea steeps. “But Ghost and I knew he was right, soon as we saw you.” He nods at the glass. “Drink your water. You haven’t had anything since last night.”

“Is it drugged?” you ask flatly.

“No, want ye awake for when Price gets here. Yer a real cute thing asleep, but we want him ta hear yer pretty voice and see that smile, aye?” Johnny reaches past you and picks up the glass of water, taking a big swig to demonstrate it’s harmlessness.

You take a careful sip when he hands it back to you, and then another, resisting the urge to just gulp the whole thing down. The door opens again, and the biggest man you’ve seen in your life walks in, wearing a black t-shirt and a mask with the jaw of a skull printed on it, pulled up over the lower half of his face. He looks at you dispassionately, and then at Gaz and Johnny. “What the ‘ell have you two muppets been sayin’ to the poor thing?” he asks, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. “She looks like she’s gonna faint.”

“Figure she’s just peaky,” Gaz says defensively. “I’m making her tea.”

The big guy swats Johnny’s hand away from your knee impatiently, and cages you in against the counter, one huge arm on either side of you. “How’re you feelin’ bird? Be honest.”

“Terrified,” you admit.

He chuckles. “Sensible, considerin’. But you don’t need to worry, olright? No one’s gonna hurt you, so long as you’re good. And you want to be good, don’t you, bird?”

You nod. You’d thought Gaz and Johnny were big, but this one’s huge, broad and tall and even scarier. It’s clear why they started off introducing themselves to you in the order they did. If this man had been the first thing you’d seen after waking up you probably would have gone into hysterics.

“Use your words, pet.”

“I want to be good,” you say obediently, because you don’t see any other options, at least for the moment.

“Good girl,” he says, and there’s the slightest hint of a smile in his dark eyes.

Somehow, this is the most comforting thing that you’ve experienced all day. You won’t be hurt if you’re good, and you are being good.

He pushes back from the counter slightly, giving you more space, takes the mug of tea from Gaz, and hands it off to you. “Small sips,” he instructs. “And maybe a biscuit, if you think you can keep it down.”

“Are you the captain?” you ask nervously, gripping the mug with two hands.

“Hm? No. ‘e’s still about an hour out. I’m Simon. Ghost to these two.” He fishes an open package of biscuits out of the cupboard and sets them next to you. “Once you finish your tea, we’ll get you ready. Want to make a good first impression, right bird?”

“Not really,” you admit. “I’d like to go home.”

He laughs, at least finding your honesty amusing. “That won’t be ‘appenin’. If Price dun’t want you, I’ll keep you myself. But I’ll tell you right now, you’ll like Price better. If you’re good for him, he’ll be real good to you, understood?”

You bite your tongue. It won’t do you any good to point out that a man that would accept a person as a gift is probably not capable of being good to anyone. Good is subjective, and the three men in front of you are lunatics. Their captain probably has the slightest bit stronger a grasp on his sanity, or a consistent moral code, if not a particularly righteous one. So you just keep your mouth shut, and drink your tea, and eat two chocolate digestives while Gaz and Johnny start collecting things to make dinner.

As soon as you set your empty mug to the side Ghost pops you down from the counter and ushers you upstairs with a big hand placed a little too low on your back. He tells you what to wear (down to the lingerie), but blessedly doesn’t insist on watching you get dressed. He does sit on the edge of the tub and watch you put on makeup, however, requesting red lipstick and winged eyeliner. Your hands are still a little shaky, but you manage to do as he asks. His eyes smile at you just a little when you’re obedient. You feel pathetic for not making a fuss, but you’re not sure what you can possibly do, except something stupid that will make them angry enough to hurt you.

He helps you into a pair of strappy red heels that had been languishing in the back of your closet before they dug everything out, and straightens the seam of your stockings, running his big hands up your calves. It’s like you’re a doll, dressed just how he wants, something to look pretty and say less than nothing, a gift for some other man you’ve never met to keep on a shelf.

Or worse, to play with.

You hear Johnny and Gaz greet someone downstairs, their voices loud and excited, and your heart skips nervously.

Ghost rises to his feet, smiling so big you can see it even with the mask. “Wait right here, pet,” he says firmly, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed while he goes off to greet his captain. “Want to introduce you proper.”

So you sit, and you wait, shaking and nervous, for what feels like eternity, until you hear Simon’s surprisingly light footfalls on the stairs again. He offers you a hand, and hoists you over his shoulder as soon as you’re on your feet, carrying you down into the living room.

“We all pitched in,” Gaz says, as casually as if he meant throwing in five dollars for a card. “But she was Soap’s idea.”

“Picked ‘er out special, Cap,” Johnny says. “She’s perfect for ye.”

“She?” an unfamiliar voice asks. “Don’t tell me you got me a dog.”

“Better than that, skipper.” Ghost laughs as he circles around the couch, and drops you carefully into the man’s lap, stepping into line with the other two. “We got you a wife.”

I've been low-key thinking about this concept since I read ohbo-ohno's Don't Leave Me Locked in Your Heart a while back (If you haven't read and you like a good dark fic, you should click that link, you may enjoy it). I think getting someone a person as a gift, or being given as a gift, rather, is a fun fucked up fantasy to explore. I'm not entirely sure where I'll take this but I promise to put in content warnings. Let me know if I miss something, I don't want anyone to be surprised by what they find!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊ ⎯ and the sun will set for you.

content // comfort/angst? open ended & not a “happy” ending. vague exploration of grief. bakugo struggles with coping but is trying his best. mid 30s, pro hero au. reader & bakugo are/were married.

Bakugo hates eating sweets in the morning.

And yet, every Sunday at the market, he picks up chocolate croissants, apple strudels, and cream puffs.

Not for him, though - for you, and only you.

He bought a glass pastry dome for the countertop to keep them organized, loving how your tired eyes light up when you pad into the kitchen and see the delicious selection. Like clockwork, Bakugo places the mug with sunflowers adorning the ceramic onto the table next to your plate, filled to the top with your favorite coffee - oat milk, two sugars and a pump of hazelnut syrup. Your sleepy smile illuminates the kitchen like sunbeams dancing on the hardwood floor, warming his heart without a word. He joins you at the table, his plate stacked with a simple mixture of rice and soft scrambled eggs accompanied by a cup of black coffee.

These mornings are the ones that get him through the week, the ones he looks forward to after a hard patrol shift or late nights in the office while drowning in paperwork. Even though he’d get up and go shopping at the crack of dawn, he always crawls right back into bed with you when he gets home. The sun is barely peaking through the curtains of your shared bedroom, just enough to cast an angelic glow on your side of the bed. It leaves him breathless every time, awestruck at how lucky he is to have someone as gorgeous as you to call his. He’s etched your features into his memory, but never grows tired of admiring all the little things that make you tick. It never fails to make him fall in love with you over and over again, finding one more small detail every day to adore.

This morning was different - you were uncharacteristically at the kitchen table when he got home, patiently waiting for him.

“Ei and Pinky are finally gettin’ married,” Bakugo says aloud between bites of his eggs. “Only took ‘em six years after gettin’ engaged, but he’s giddy as hell. Asked me to be his best man.”

“That’s wonderful!” You chirp, lips curling into a soft smile. “Reminds me of our wedding. I still think it was the sweetest thing that he cried to cover for you crying when I walked down the aisle.”

“I ain’t afraid to cry! He’s the biggest baby, ‘course he was moved to tears at the sight of the most beautiful woman on the planet.”

“Aww, thanks baby. You’re too sweet.”

Too sweet.

The words linger in the air as he stares into the dark abyss of his coffee, watching the liquid swirl in a vortex as he became lost in thought.

Our wedding.

He recalls the day like it was yesterday - the scent of the flower garden, the radiant aura engulfing your silhouette as you strolled down the aisle toward him, how your plush lips felt brand new during your first kiss as husband and wife…pure magic, that’s what you are. Whatever god or goddess sent you his way all those years ago, he thanks them endlessly. Without you, he’s lost like a dog in the rain with nowhere to go.

Nostalgia is a cruel mind’s trick.

“Katsuki?” You whisper, tilting your head in confusion. “Is everything okay?”

Bakugo swallows the emotions rising in his throat, suffocating them for a little while longer. He was getting too good at shoving everything down.

“Yeah, sweets. Sorry, still wakin’ up.”

“I don’t think I can finish this today, I’m stuffed. Do you want it?” You point to the two cream puffs on your plate and cup of coffee. “I’m sorry.”

“No need’ta apologize, angel. I’ll eat ‘em, leave it there.”

You stand, taking a few steps closer to him and planting a loving kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Katsuki. I love you.”

The tears are welling up in his eyes as he takes a deep breath, shakily whispering, “I love you too,” before sliding your plate in front of him and popping one of the cream puffs into his mouth. He pushes his full coffee mug to the side and takes yours, bringing it to his lips and enjoying the sugar coating his tongue. A single tear spills over his waterline, cascading down his cheek and settling under his chin.

Not sweet enough.

Six months ago, Bakugo would have never eaten your sweets, they were yours.

Now, he likes eating sweets on Sunday mornings when you grace him with your presence; anything to help him feel closer to you while you’re away.

tags // @slayfics @maddietries @starieq @liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @simp-plague @queenpiranhadon

[thetriumphantpanda]

Beggin' For It | Joel Miller

The Checklist - Orgasm Denial

Chapter Summary | Your new boyfriend Joel, in the process of helping you pack up your apartment, finds your stash of porn, full of all the things you've been scared of asking for. He surprises you by offering to help you tick them off, starting by denying you the thing you always love the most.

Chapter Warnings | This is basically porn without plot. Explicit smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected PiV sex, talk of contraceptives, orgasm denial, creampie, dirty talk, pet names (baby), hair pulling, established relationship, No Outbreak AU, No Use of Y/N.

Word Count | 3.7k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Authors Note | Well here we go, the Joel Miller Kink extravaganza. I had SO much fun writing this and putting this together so I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I love writing it! If you do enjoy this, reblogs and comments are always appreciated, and if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

Your face is burning hot, and your stomach is in knots of anxiety as you stand in the doorway to your room, two glasses of water in hand, watching Joel, who is sat on your bed with a spread of magazine’s spread out across the duvet. Those fucking magazines, stored carefully in the bottom drawer of your bedside table. Some are straight up pornographic, plucked from the top shelf of the store, paid for and shoved into the depths of your bag before anyone apart from you and the cashier knew what it was. Others are those silly gossip magazines, Cosmopolitan mainly, pages folded in all of them of the pictures you like the most, the ones that help you get off the quickest, the things you want to try the most. And they’re all spread out for him to see. 

“W-where did you f-find those?” You choke out, swallowing thickly, hands gripping the two glasses so hard you’re surprised they don’t shatter. 

Joel shrugs, “You asked me to start packing the stuff from the drawers into boxes,” He says, because you did, your apartment in disarray as you’re packing up to move into his home, “I opened the drawer and found them.” 

Joel was never planned. You’d been more than happy on your own. When you met him, on a random Sunday morning, you’d been out of your last relationship for almost a year. You’d been staring at different types of nails at the hardware store, cursing yourself that you hadn’t thought to research what the best nails for hanging pictures up would be, when his Southern drawl had pricked your ears. 

“Need any help, miss?” 

You’d turned, taken a step back because he was taller than you, broad, and definitely older too. Grey scruff peppered along his jaw, some in his hair too, and big brown eyes that screamed kindness at you. He was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. 

“Huh?” Was all you could manage to let out, cursing yourself for seeming like the typical dumb woman at the hardware store. 

“Been milling around gettin’ some stuff and you’ve been starin’ at that wall’a nails for a while,” He chuckles, stepping forward so he’s next to you, “What d’ya need ‘em for?” 

“Oh,” You breathe, he smells good too, woodsy and masculine, “I’m wanting to hang some pictures on my walls.” 

He hums in understanding, reaching over to grab a pack of nails that are miles longer than the ones you would have chosen. He holds them out to you, which you take, fingertips brushing against his as you do, “Thanks,” You smile at him, “I would never have chosen these ones.” 

“You got everythin’ you need to hang them?” He asks, “Tools and stuff?” 

You shrug this time, “I’ve got a hammer, is that going to do it?” 

The look in his eyes is akin to what you imagine someone would look like if you’d just kicked a dog in front of them, he shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and then hands you card that he pulls out. You take it, the words ‘Miller Contracting’ and a phone number underneath it. 

“Usually, I’m more of a building from scratch guy, but you can’t hammer these nails into a wall, so give me a call and I can come and hang your pictures for you.” 

So, you do. Late that evening, you call him, tell him you’ve got the weekend free, and you’d like to get your pictures hung. He comes over, you watch him closely as he hangs them perfectly on your wall. You make him dinner as a thank-you, considering he won’t let you pay him, and then after two beers, you let him fuck you on your couch. It’s not usually your style, but nine months later, it seems to have worked, considering he’s moving you into his house. 

Like most things that had to do with your life and Joel, moving in this early had never been planned either. Sarah, his daughter, who you’d met multiple times, had her own life, her own home, and the lease to your apartment in the city was ending early. Something to do with the landlord wanting to completely redecorate. Joel had offered his place to you, which made sense, considering you spent most of your time at his anyway. So, you’d emailed your landlord, told him you’d be out by the end of the month, and were now packing up everything you owned to move into Joel’s place. Start a new life. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby,” He coos, “Some interesting stuff here.” He muses, reaching over to pick up a copy of one of the more explicit magazines, opening it on a page that’s got the corner folded over, the picture is a woman, bent over on her knees with her hands spreading the cheeks of her ass, an anonymous man pounding his cock into her, a look of ecstasy on her face. 

You can’t bare it anymore, so you put the glasses down on chest of drawers and made a beeline to snatch it out of his hand, “Now, hold your horses, baby,” He teases, managing to grab your waist to catch you off balance, pulling you onto his lap where you straddle him, the other hand holding the magazine out of your reach, “What do the folded pages mean?” 

You groan, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder, grumbling incoherently into him in the hopes he drops the subject, but this is Joel, and you should have known better. He pushes his shoulder forward, forcing your head up, “I didn’t quite hear you, baby?” 

Dick, is what you think, “They’re things I like,” You mumble, “Think that get me off.” 

He turns his head towards the bed with a smirk, “Lots of folded pages, baby,” He teases, Joel lets the magazine in his hand drop to the bed, gripping your waist in both hands, “Don’t need to be shy baby, nothin’ wrong with any of it.” 

It’s not really that you’re embarrassed by what’s in the magazines, it’s more the fact that even though you and Joel have an extremely healthy sex life, not one you would necessarily call vanilla, but certainly not kinky, there were things you were scared of asking for. There was a mental list of things you’d read about in the advice columns of Cosmo, pictures you’d seen in the other magazines, that you were dying to try, but how do you bring up to your boyfriend of not even a year, that you want him to bend you over and stuff his cock into your ass? 

Joel brings a hand up to your face, cups your cheek and brushes the skin there with his thumb, “Why don’t you show me something you want to try?” He coaxes gently, his brown eyes meeting your own. 

Your eyes go wide. You had always been worried of asking for these things, worried it would scare him off, or that he just didn’t want to branch out into anything too kinky, but here he is, offering to help make your fantasies come true, “Go on.” He taps at your sides. 

You lean over, grab one of the issues of Cosmo and flick through it to the page with the folded corner right at the back. You pass it to Joel, who takes it, letting his eyes flick to the column of sex advice. He clears his throat and starts reading with you still perched on his lap. 

“Dear Angela,” he reads in his Southern drawl, “I’ve been with my fiancé for over five years now. We’re very happy and our wedding is in a year’s time, but I’m struggling to connect with him sexually now. I think the problem is that he’s too nice. Outside of the bedroom, this is wonderful, but do you have any advice on how we might be able to spice things up with our sex life?” He then clears his throat again before launching into ‘Angela’s’ response, “Dear reader, this is something I deal with often. You’re happy with everything but the sex, but don’t lose hope because this is fixable. If you want him to get a little mean with you, nothing says that like denying you the big one, the final ‘O’ if you will. Talk to him, tell him it’s something you want, and have fun!” 

You’re looking at his face as he ponders what that means. He’s putting the magazine down on the bed, bringing his hands back to your hips, looking into your eyes, “Am I too nice to you, baby?” He coos, “Need me to be a little mean t’ya?” 

His voice flashes straight down to your cunt. You wriggle in his lap, the seam of your jeans rubbing along the bulge that is prominent in his own lap. He holds you still, fingers pressing into your hips, “I don’t think so baby, tryin’ to get yourself off like that.” 

You groan a little as he lifts you off his lap, spreads you out on the mattress. You open your legs for him, let him settle his hips between yours, grinding his hips as he presses his mouth to yours. You can feel his chest pressed against your own, the entire weight of him smothering your body, his hands smoothing your hair from your forehead as you open your mouth for him, letting him lick into your mouth, tasting him as your tongue works against his. 

You buck your hips up into his own, your hands coming down to slip into the back pockets of his jeans, pulling his hips forward so you’re grinding together through your clothes, something skin to how you used to behave as a horny teenager. 

“You feelin’ needy, baby?” He whispers into your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he does. 

You don’t want to admit that you are, mainly because you know he’s not going to fix the problem. You’ve asked for him to be mean to you, asked him to do nothing but use you and your body for his own pleasure and leave you wanted more, so you just let out a breathy moan, which makes him chuckle, makes him grind his hips into yours again before he pushes himself back on his knees, dragging you up with him so he can pull your t-shirt off your body. 

He pushes you gently back down onto the mattress, drags those big palms of his down your sides until he reaches the waist of your jeans. He pops the button, drags the zipper down and moves his body just enough so he can peel the material down your thighs and off your body, throwing them behind him to be forgotten now. Joel leaves your bra on, but drags your pantie down your legs, pushing your thighs apart so you’re bared to him, no doubt slick and shiny for him. 

Joel stands from the bed, drops to his knees and starts pressing warm, wet kissed to the insides of your thighs. Up the left side, down the right, but never right where you want it. He teases you slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world, and in moments like this you’re always in awe of how patient he is, always willing to defer his own gratification in place of getting you off first and, more often than not, multiple times, before he even thinks of sinking himself into you. 

His face finally makes its way to settle where you always love having it, right at the apex of your thighs, where you’re already wet with want for him. You can feel his hot breath skittering across your skin so, although you didn’t think it physically possible, you spread your legs wider, showing him your glistening, slick cunt. His fingers press into your thighs as his mouth presses a single, chaste kiss right to your clit. You breathe out in pleasure, letting yourself relax a little as you feel his tongue move slowly through your folds, moving from your entrance where your slick is pooling, just for him, all the way up to your clit. He teases you a little at first, small little kitten licks placed ever-so-gently to your clit. He knows this is what you like, when he takes his time to work you up to the edge. The edge you have to continually remind yourself you’re not going to get the opportunity to push yourself over. 

He pulls his mouth off you when you start moving your hips in time to his mouth, his palm pressing down on your belly to keep you still, “This ain’t for you,” He reminds, nipping at the delicate skin of your thighs with his teeth, “Just makin’ sure you can take me.” 

He sinks two fingers into you, curling them up just right, your back arching up off the bed to grind up into his palm as he works you open for him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough, much like with his mouth earlier. Normally he’d make you come on his tongue, then sink those fingers into you and make you come again, but he’s pulling them from your pussy, looking you dead in the eye as he presses his fingers onto your tongue. You clamp your mouth around them, licking your slick from his fingers, rolling your tongue over them in the same way you know he loves on his cock, your eyes training directly on his with no shame as you pull off them with a ‘pop’. You giggle slightly, biting at your bottom lip as Joel leans down to kiss you, tasting you on your own mouth, tasting yourself still lingering on his tongue. 

“Taste good, don’tcha baby?” He smirks, pushing you back, watching you intently as he strips himself of his clothes. 

You don’t think you’ll ever quite get over how beautiful a man he is when he stands in front of you naked. Defined and muscular at his chest, with those big arms that wrap around you, his belly, spattered with hair trailing all the way down until you get to his cock, hard, almost painfully so at this point. His strong thighs that you love to nestle yourself between at night. He is truly a spectacle and it’s moments like this that you still don’t quite believe he’s yours. 

He settles back on the bed, between your thighs, your hands grip at those broad shoulders as he reaches between the two of you, fisting the base of his cock, moving his hips slowly so his cock drags through your slick folds, the bulbous head nudging at your clit as he fists himself, spreading your wet along his length. You feel him settle himself at your entrance, pushing his hips forward just enough to give you just the tip. His nose runs along your jawline, kisses from his mouth trailing just behind, as he rocks his hips into your own, but only ever enough that it’s just the tip of his cock inside. 

“Beg for it baby,” He breathes into your skin, “You want my cock?” 

“Want it so bad, Joel,” You whine, moving your hips into his to try and take him deeper, but he’s gripping your thigh, warning you not to push it, “Please, Joel, please fuck me.” 

“Beggin’ for it even though you ain’t gonna come?” He teases, one hand moving up to your chest to pull the cups of your bra down, fingers taking your nipple and rolling. 

“Wanna feel you.” You say, burying your head into his neck, pressing your own kisses to his skin. 

Joel seems to find that satisfactory, slowly pushing himself all the way into you, dragging himself all the way out again. He leans back a bit, gripping you behind your knees to press your thighs as far into your chest as he can get them. Then he really does fuck you. He’s big, and although you know you can take him, it’s always a shock to you that it’s so easy. That he can pound into you with the ferocity he currently is, tip of his cock brushing against your cervix in that perfect mix of pleasure and pain. 

“Awful quiet baby,” He gasps out, watching you bite at your bottom lip, “Don’t like it when you don’t get to feel good?” 

You shake your head, Joel dragging himself all the way out of your aching cunt, flipping you over onto your belly. He presses his palm into the back of your neck, keeping your lower half pressed to the bed, whilst his other hand drags you up onto your knees, ass in the air for him as he guides his cock right back to you, thrusting back in all the way. You always loved it when Joel fucked you like this. The angle always managing to feel just perfect as he fucks you. 

The only sound in the room is that of your combined moans, little grunts from him and whines from your mouth, and the sound of his hips hitting yours, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. You’re starting to regret asking for this, because God it would be so easy for him to reach round, press his fingers to your clit and tip you over the edge in seconds. If it wasn’t for the way his hand was pressing at the nape of your neck, you could do it yourself, so desperate to feel the euphoria of coming undone around him. 

Joel’s thrusts are getting more frantic, even though it’s only been nine months of you together, you know he’s not going to last much longer. He slides his hand down and into the hair on the back of your head, gripping it tightly in his fist to drag your head up and out of the material of the bed. The sounds of yours once muffled by the duvet under you now let loose into the room, echoing around the walls and doing nothing but egging him on, getting him closer to the finish line. 

“You like this, huh?” He asks you from behind, “Like getting’ used, baby?” 

“Yes Joel,” Because you do, despite knowing you don’t get to finish, something about him being selfish with you, using you just get himself off, makes you unbelievably wet, “Still feels good.” 

You can hear him chuckle, fingers of his other hand gripping so hard to your hip that you’re sure he’s going to bruise you there. You don’t mind, not really, you love carrying him around with you like that. Secret marks on your skin, evidence that you’re his that only you know, only you can see, apart from when he bites at your neck, claiming you in front of everyone. 

“I’m close baby,” You can hear from behind you, the grip his hand has in your hair arching your back perfectly, angling him just so that if he just carried on like this for a few minutes you think he could make you come just like this, “You want it inside?” He asks, “Want me to fill you up?” 

This was new between the two of you, still exciting. After months of using condoms, never once a complaint from Joel, you’d held up the tiny packet of pills, the ones you’d been taking for a week in secret. Asked him to fuck you bare, fill you up with every drop if his cum, and the two of you were struggling to find a way of finishing that you enjoyed more than this. 

“Please,” You beg, whimpering as he gives another tug to your hair, pulling you back into him even further, “Please Joel.” 

“Ain’t no need for beggin’ now baby,” He groans thickly behind you, “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

You feel his hips slam into the plush of your ass a few more times before he goes still, groaning deep from his chest as you feel the warmth of his cum spread through your cunt. You can feel your own walls fluttering around him, taking his spend as deep as you can whilst trying to catch your breath. 

Fuck. You can hear him sucking in ragged breaths from behind you, hands still gripping your hips as he pulls himself from you. You whine at the loss of him, push your hips back trying to coax him into giving you what you want. God, this was such a stupid thing to want. Why would you want Joel to deny you the very thing he’d proved over and over again was the one thing he would give you without question? You’re desperate, and it wouldn’t take much, he’d have you screaming his name in less than a minute. 

“Please Joel,” You beg, “Please baby.” 

“What’s that?” He asks from behind, you can feel his chest lay across your back, pushing you down into the mattress, his cock still semi-hard against the cheeks of your ass, “You beggin’ for it, baby?” 

“Make me come.” You demand, like a little brat. 

“Awww baby,” He coos into your ear, hand coming to grip the back of your neck, “I’m such a mean man, aren’t I?” You nod your head, hoping it shakes his resolve, “Leaving you all wet and needy.” His teeth nip at your jaw, he pushes himself off you and then completely off the bed. 

You turn onto your back, watching as he picks up his clothes to get dressed. Why did you ask for this? You spread your legs, finger dipping down inside your pussy, dragging out the mix of slick and his spend to drag up to your clit. It wouldn’t take very long, already so worked up and sensitive, but he catches you before you can get there, hands tearing your own away from you. 

“Don’t be naughty,” Joel chastises, tugging on your wrist to get you to sit at the edge of the bed, he gets on his knees, loops your panties right over your ankles and drags them up, “Stand up,” You want to complain, but you do it anyway, hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he drags your panties all the way up, pressing a kiss right where the waistband sits, “Be a good girl for the rest of the day and I promise I’ll make you come however you want later, okay?” 

It should embarrass you how quickly you nod your head, how your voice promises him you’ll be good for him. He kisses your forehead, helps you put the rest of your clothes on, passes you the glass of water you’d forgotten about earlier. 

“Come on,” He says, “Plenty more boxes to pack up.” 

[forsworned]

ok, but hear me out. Poly!tf141 on undercover mission. Reader is dressed up, think very club type attire or so. Paired think of the audio "favorite" by Isabel Larosa 👀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋfavorite ft. poly!tf141ˎˊ˗

꒰ঌa/n໒꒱ okokokokokokokok i finally finished anon im sorry it took me so long, i was trying to make sure it made as much sense as possible but its a fucknnn wrapppppp , i hope u like it ;-; reblogs & comments are appreciated!!

꒰warning(s) heavily suggested polyship, alcohol abuse, violence, titty bar???꒱

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋrequests are openˎˊ˗

Pulsating rhythms of the club thudded against their tightened sternums as they impatiently waited for her appearance. On one side, Kyle and Price sat on hightops, sipping slowly at their top shelf whiskey's. Price sucked his teeth at that. Damn them all to hell for their overpriced liquor.

Kyle chuckled from behind the rim of his glass at his Captain's displeasure.

"Fuckin' tossers. All o'em." Price's mood was quite piqued already. This mission for sure was going to get him diagnosed with hypertension.

"Relax, boss. She can handle it." Kyle's voice is smoother than the fine, fiery amber liquid they were downing. Price could admit that it was damn good whiskey.

"Not talkin' 'bout the duck." He retorted, finishing his glass and pushing it away from him. He teased the end of his stache between his fingers.

Kyle simpered at him. "Oh yeah? 'Suppose y'talkin' 'bout the whiskey then."

Price's icy blues peered up at his Sergeant's honey gaze, a half smirk curled up on his lips now.

"Damn good whiskey."

Kyle and Price both chuckled at that. Clearly they were both on edge and neither of them were willing to admit to that. It wasn't easy knowing that she was compromising all of herself for the sake of a mission while they sat their twiddling their thumbs like a bunch of sods.

"'re y'two gonna keep actin' like a pair of plonkers, or y'gonna do wha' y'were assigned to do 'n' keep watch?" Simon's rasping voice was heard over the comms.

Johnny snickered from his seat at the bar." Ahh, give 'em some slack, L.t.. It ain't easy watchin' oor wifie shake 'er ass in fron' of a bunch of--"

"I can hear you, y'know?" Her voice like a dream (the prettiest girl they've ever seeennn), pulling them out of their squabbling.

"There she is." Johnny's murmured, glancing over at her figure appearing between throngs of men. The bright strobe lights casting shadows over her form, highlighting her curves. Every stride more enchanting than the next as she bounced through the crowd so effortlessly. She balanced two whiskey glasses and a bottle of Glenfiddich on a slim black tray as she approached her two teammates.

Did their eyes deceive them, or was she really wearing that?

"On the house, boys." Her tone is ribbing, playful with a hint of a gentle chide. The curve of her red painted lips, and the feline-like eyeliner that cascaded over her tightlined eyes made her that much alluring. Their eyes traveled down her frame, carefully analyzing the black bodycon dress that fit her like a second skin.

The outfit was undeniably slutty. Black strings wrapping around her chest and over her shoulders. The neckline was low, revealing her cleavage while the length of the skirt just barely brushed against her ass. Their eyes stopping at the thigh-high black, latex boots she was wearing.

How long had she been hiding these outfits from them, they didn't know. And knowing her, she would never tell.

"On th' house, you say?" Kyle's gaze heavy on her. "Says who?"

She tilted her head to the side with an impish grin. "Says me."

Price's mouth seemed to have been full of cotton because he couldn't even manage a word. That satisfied her. "Enjoy, boys."

She sauntered off to the next set of patrons, and Price had to readjust himself for a moment as he shook his head with an incredulous look.

"Trousers gettin' too tight?" Simon jested over the comms. That earned a few chuckles.

"Where'd she get tha' lil thing anyways?" Price attempted to derail Simon's taunting.

Johnny's eyes never left her form from the moment she stepped out on the floor. She was working her magic with all the patrons, speaking the native language while he listened in on how it rolled off her tongue like it was her own as their haughty eyes undressed her—it was enough to make his skin crawl. "No idea, but 's makin' me kinda jealous."

"Ditto." Kyle shook his head as he poured his Captain and himself another drink.

"Le's get this shit over with." Price picked up his glass, clinking it against Kyle's before they both downed it with ease.

And boy was it not fun for any of them. Johnny's job really had to be the comedic relief for the night because the way that their collective blood pressure was raising right now was enough to send them into cardiac arrest.

Simon sat in the control room with his gun in his holster, knife in his left hand as he observed every individual body in the room. The mangled body to his left, slumped on the floor for the night as he flitted through multiple CCTV to track her movements and get an idea on the deal that was about to happen.

The mission? It involved an international weapons deal between the Mexican cartel and an arms manufacturer from Russia. They had to infiltrate the club that the cartel owned and [name]--very, very much to their dismay--was the bait.

Kyle, to no one's surprise, was the first one to break the silence.

"The boys are gettin' restless." Kyle eyed the crowd that seemed to be growing by the minute as more and more people came in for some late night fun. The cartel member's body language indicated that they were getting restless.

Price was already on edge. His fingers were gripping the Mexican Pine wood of the hightop table. Every second that went by felt like an eternity as he watched her shake her hips up against one of the cartel members and laughed as a bottle of vodka was passed around between them.

Simon grunted, watching more individuals come in. "Gonna be a bloodbath."

Johnny stayed quiet, but his brows were furrowed with worry. His baby blues watched her as she took a shot with one of the cartel members in an attempt to be flirty while he pressed a hand against the small of her back. Johnny couldn't hide the way his face contorted in disgust.

"Quit bouncin' y'leg, Johnny." Simon warned. In an instant, Johnny's actions are halted like a guard dog on command. He sucked his teeth.

Price's jaw ticked when he laid his icy glare on her taking another shot and laughed coquettishly while the cartel member's hand went up her skirt. "For Christ's sake."

Kyle gave his Captain a sympathetic grin. It was hard being the only one under control.

"Le's have another." He sighed, pouring them both another drink in a weary attempt to calm their nerves. Well, really Price's nerves.

As the night drew on, the club gained more traction. Her movements becoming more risqué as she allowed the men to grope her and squeeze her.

"Gonna lose my bloody shite here." Price muttered, the way they tried to get under her skirt as she laughed it off, her back pressed up against one of their bodies. She was good. He had to give her that much.

Simon turned his attention away from the screen, taking notice of the slight beads of sweat dripping down Price's temples.

He was sweating now too. To be so comfortable with these bastards as she played them like a fiddle. Price's heart was thudding in his ears. He couldn't breathe.

"Gimme an update on somethin', anythin', Simon." Price was practically pleading at this point. A small edge to his voice as he spoke with neediness, referring to the deal that was suppose to be made tonight.

Simon let out an exasperated huff as he kept his eyes on the group, laughing and sharing drinks.

"Still nothin' yet." Simon grunted, scrolling through several camera angles. A cigarette was pinched between his lips, and he pulled from it as he turned to look over at Price. It had been two hours of Price stewing in his seat with nothing to show for.

"She sure as hell ain't making it easy..." Price mumbled, running a hand over the back of his neck.

Kyle was observing the situation with a smirk. "Sure as hell not..." His mouth kicked up at the corner. She was being very provocative with them, trying to get them off their game.

"She's doin' a'ight for herself, ain't she, boss?" Kyle asked while Price remained stilled, almost intentionally provoking him a bit, which in its own respect was quite cruel to do but he couldn't help himself. The Captain was seething in silence, a small twitch on his mouth being the only indication that he had heard what his Sergeant had said.

Simon leaned his cheek against the cold wall of the control room, watching her play the men like a puppet master. Her words and touches were calculated.

He took another drag from his cigarette, trying to keep his nerves calm as Price felt like he was wasting away on his seat. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips and he silently thanked the cartel for installing such HD quality cameras so that he could at least savor this moment.

Three hours in, and there was no sign of the deal being made. Simon wondered if they all wasted their time being her back up.

"She might a'well be dancin' in a stripper's club," Price grunted, his back still stiff as he remained seated.

Simon bit back a laugh. "T’be fair, it is a titty club."

"Shut the 'ell up, Simon." Price turned over as his head pounded in tandem with his heartbeat. His jaw was clenched tight, blood boiling in his veins. "That does not change the fact that she is bein' taken advantage of."

"Right..." Simon muttered, taking another puff from his cigarette with a side-eyed smirk.

"Jus' wait until we have a debrief for this mission, you cocky bastard." Price grunted. It was an empty threat. Like the way a father would reprimand his naughty kids.

Kyle and Johnny could be heard chuckling over the comms and that seemed to alleviate the tense mood once again.

It wasn't until Simon noticed the shift in body language that sent his senses into overdrive. An instinct that he never ignored as he carefully analyzed one of the members who was leaning against the bar. He turned to the barman, ordered a round of drinks for him and his friends. In the distance, he could see [name's] lithe body swaying gracefully in and around the throngs of men. A slow, confident sway. His attention immediately shifted to the bar, catching glimpses of the body language between the cartel members and another girl they could barely keep their mouths off of.

She looked a lot like their [name]. The same build, the same hair and a similar fit. It made his stomach turn a bit.

This was the part of the mission he hated. It was when things started to get real—when there were a lot more moving pieces and when a slight error could cost her, them and the mission.

One of the members was speaking to the girl, he couldn't hear what his words were but he could read his body language clearly. He was starting to connect the dots when the girl was passed a keycard that was gently pushed into her back pocket.

"We've got movement." Simon warned.

"Where?"

Price and Simon could practically hear one another's voices on the edge of breaking.

"One o'em is passin' a keycard to woman at the bar. Keep watch." Simon commanded.

Kyle and Johnny stayed silent. But their focus remained locked on the pair, keeping eyes on her as the men around her continued to paw at her.

The barman finished pouring the drinks, and then a few other people passed by the cartel member before he leaned in to whisper her location. Simon took note.

The man and the girl began to walk away from the bar, heading towards a back door. Her body reacted defensively for a fleeting moment, recoiling ever so slightly to the unwanted touch. The door was out of the camera's range. Only the door handle could be seen. The man continued to drag her towards it, his grip tightening as he did. Simon got even more of an uneasy feeling as they drew closer.

Simon's eyes darted to another screen where a meeting was starting to take place and [name] had somehow managed to slip past the members. She was currently situated on the other side of the meeting doors, tucked away in a corner that kept her out of sight from them but gave him a clear view of her movement.

Simon noticed that there was two guards slumped over in the rooms leading to where [name] now was. "[name], do not engage. Do you copy?"

"Copy." Her voice crackled over the comms.

Simon couldn't help but think when the hell she got there with her weapon ready in hand, still in her same outfit from earlier. There wasn't much time to think about how or when she had done that.

"When did y'leave?" Kyle inquired, on behalf of them. A smirk could be heard in her voice.

"When no one was lookin', silly."

Johnny's and Price's jaw ticked in amusement at that.

"Slippery minx." Price muttered. "Weren't you s'pposed t'keep an eye 'er, Johnny?"

"I was." Johnny replied confidently. It was evident that he allowed her to do her own thing. It sure as hell beat gawking at her while other men got handsy with her assets.

Simon fixated on back on the pair from earlier, as they moved through multiple rooms, and suddenly she was thrown into the bathroom, landing on the tiles with a cry.

"Fuckin' military slut. You think I don't know who you are?" The cartel member sneered.

The girl recoiled and shook her head not able to find any words. "¡…n-no, señor! ¡N-no soy un chivato!"* She cried out.

(...n-no, mister! I am not a spy!)*

"Bloody hell, they've got the got the wrong lass." Simon grumbled over the comms realizing that there positions were somewhat compromised. It was natural for cartel members to be weary and hypervigilant about moles, but he had to maintain control over the situation.

The man didn't seem to be buying it as he fished out his gun from his holster. Simon could hear the sound of the man's voice rising over him manhandling the girl through the CCTV's audio system.

"I don't know what you are thinking you little whore, but you shouldn't have come to my club if you didn't want to get used! Don't come crying to me when these bastards finish with you!" The man yelled. His voice was so laced with arrogance and pride that Simon was tempted to get off the comms and put a bullet through his head.

By now it was obvious that the man thought she was [name]. The girl cowered before him in fear, not daring to move as she kept repeating that she wasn't a spy. But his eyes were filled with nothing but rage. It seemed to be the end of the line for her.

Simon's heart was in his throat as he watched the man aim his gun at her chest. He held the trigger down before another man walked in with two more guards.

He missed. He missed!

The girl's chest rose with relief, still trembling in fear.

"¡Maldito imbécil! ¡¿Parece una espía?!"* One of them shouts at the man who attempted to murder the girl just moments ago.

(Fucking moron! Does she look a like a spy?!)*

A gun is brought to his head and he's instructed to let go of her or die instead. The man lets go and backs away to allow the one of three guards to escort him off. The two guards that are left glare down at her in pity as they watch her shudder.

"Vete de aquí."* One of them gestured his head to the door.

(Get outta here)*

The girl tries to get to her feet but she collapses with tears streaming down her cheeks. They help her up and lead her out of the door as they shake their heads, muttering about who the fuck is training their guys nowadays.

"Fuckin' hell." Simon muttered to himself as he switched back his focus to the meeting happening in the room. No one had seemed to move from their positions. "'least tell us when y'r on th' move." His voice was filled with exasperation at [name's] cunningness.

"Sorry, Si."

She didn't mean that.

"How many?" Price asked over the comms, pushing away her actions to the back of his mind. He would deal with her later.

Simon could hear the girl cry as her tears mingled with the music from the club that drifted in and out of the bathroom. The girl was visibly distraught from her near death experience. Simon's lip was curled at the sight.

"Six." Simon replied as he watched the two guards lead her out of the restroom.

"Nine." Her voice interjected. "Those guys that took care of that--little squabble, are coming in right now." It made her heart wrench that she compromised another innocent woman, but with her out of harms way it was easier to focus on the mission once again.

"Sharp eye, hen." Johnny complimented her.

"Thank ya, Johnny." Her voice practically sang.

Minutes dragged by and Simon's eyes were dancing between [name] and the door that the cartel members all seemed to be facing, like they were waiting for the arms dealer to walk through at any given second.

"Any moment now." Simon muttered, keeping his eyes on the entrance for someone to enter, antsy for the deal to begin.

The door was pushed open and a man dressed in a crisp black suit with greased back silver hair and a thin, angular frame entered, along with another cartel member who held his weapon with his finger on the trigger. The man's eyes scanned the room as they approached the other cartel members, who remained relaxed. Simon let out a sharp breath, hoping that they had arrived on time to foil the deal.

"Tango has entered the building." Simon muttered into the comms.

A collective sigh of relief could be heard over their earpieces, but not from Price. His grip tightened on the bar stool as the seconds dragged on. It was hard to contain his breathing when his adrenaline spiked that high but he was managing.

Simon's voice was even and cool. He had trained for this moment. "Standby f'r engagement. Weapons free at m'signal."

"Copy." Price replied.

The transaction seemed ready to go down smoothly as the Russian man slid his briefcase towards the cartel members, who in turn slid over their weapons.

Simon's muscles began to tense, bracing himself for the inevitable gunfire. He was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

Price's hand went to the butt of his gun, checking that it was secure in its holster as he waited for the signal to move in.

The men made their exchange, and the deal looked like it was going to go down without a hitch. But something didn't feel quite right.

Just when it seemed like things were going to go swimmingly, one of the cartel members raised his weapon and fired at the man in the suit. The man dove for cover behind the bar as a bullet shattered the glass door behind him. Chaos erupted as the entire room exploded in gunfire.

Bullets ricocheting off the walls, commands being yelled over the noise the clamor could be heard from both sides as the cartel was scrambling out of sight. [name] took that as her ticket to take care of the Russian arms dealer, but she was gently pinned to the wall.

A familiary honeyed voice in her ear. "An' where do y'think y'r goin', ducky?"

Johnny, Price and Simon move in with ease and efficiency as they neutralized the threats with no remorse. It more than personal at this point, as she ogled the way Simon used his lucky blade against the throat of one man, Johnny breaking the arm of another and Price taking his sweet time over the man that he watched so vehemently put his hands up your skirt. There seemed to be a common theme here.

"Someone call it in." Price let out a exasperated sigh as he shot the last guy straight in the skull without even giving him a second glance. He carded his calloused fingers through sweat saturated locks and his eyes fell on her.

His Sergeant's arms were enveloped around her lovingly as they eagerly tabbed their teammates individual vendettas.

"Done, sir?" Kyle probed playfully as he eyed his Captain and then the other two men. Simon flicked off the blood on his blade on the ground before using the now cartel member's suit to clean of the rest and stuffed it back in its holster, while Johnny's casually rolled his neck from side to side, cracking his neck like he just finished sparring.

The corners of Price's mouth turned up into an incredulous grin as he licked his lips and riveted on [name]. "Y'pull anotha stunt like tha' again, ducky--" He breathed out and shook his head as he took in her puckish grin. "ah fuck it. I've got no fire left 'n me after tonight."

He scratched his temple with the rear end of his handgun. "Y'call it in, Johnny?"

"Done tha' already, Cap." Johnny's tongue was peaking out of his lips as he pressed them in a thin line to keep himself from laughing, but the way the corner of his lips were kicking up gave it away.

"Good man." Price clapped the Scot's shoulder and soon the soft brouhaha of their men was heard, approaching them as they slammed doors of their vehicles ready to clean up the bodies and take them back to base. Simon and Johnny were more than happy to help them drag off the bodies onto the oncoming stretchers.

Price's bleary eyes glanced over at her form for a fleeting second before he headed toward the truck, but not before he pinched the exposed skin of her ass cheek causing her to yelp.

She pouted at him in passing to which he gave her a cheeky grin, gently instigating a smirk from her. Kyle's lips are on her cheek, his subtle stubble scratching her soft skin as she feels his breath against her ear.

"Y'r really in for it this time, ducky."

[sweetercalypso]

Texas Hold ‘Em || Joel Miller

Summary: when a heatwave interrupts your lake house vacation, you and dbf!Joel find another way to have some fun

Word Count: 2.4k

Notes: minors dni; stripping, blowjob, unprotected p in v sex, pull-out method, reader on top, implied age gap, afab reader, mentions of alcohol and drinking

Summer in Texas is hot.

Cracked asphalt sidewalks burn underfoot, paired with sharp, dry grass that pricks at your skin when you stray off the path in search of relief.

The sun is too bright, the air is unbearably warm, and the humidity is enough to take your breath away.

Days like this are best spent inside.

With an impending heat wave looming in the forecast, it seems like summer might pass by entirely before you have the chance to enjoy your break. Joel Miller – a drinking buddy your dad had picked up in recent years – had offered you a trip to his lakeside cabin with the promise that a cold drink and a dip in the water would be the perfect remedy for the high temperatures.

You’d arrived three days ago, and every afternoon since had brought a thick, sweltering heat that made it impossible to pull yourself away from the comfort of the living room. Even the calm, inviting waves lapping gently at the lake’s edge weren’t enough to tempt you back outdoors to fry under the brutal sun.

The only solution was to sulk inside, bitterly cherishing the tiny air conditioner working overtime to keep you cool. Joel didn’t seem outwardly bothered by the heat, but you could tell he preferred to stay indoors, too.

“S’posed to be in the high 90’s today,” he says, strolling into the living room with his attention turned to the vivid landscape beyond the patio doors. “But it’s so humid, it’ll feel like a hundred.”

You tip your head back and let out a dramatic groan, resenting the prospect of another day spent inside. You liked Joel, and his cabin was nice, but you wanted nothing more than to feel the sun on your skin, to be submerged in the cool, twinkling lake like you’d been promised.

“Can’t we go sit by the water, just for a little while?”

His mouth turns down at the corners, frowning as he thinks. “That’s up to you, darlin’. Just don’t want you gettin’ burnt up out there.”

You know he’s right. Even from the comfort of the living room, you could tell that it was too hot to venture outside. The handful of other cabins scattered around the lake were all vacant for the season, driveways sitting empty and abandoned canoes rocking idly at the pier.

“How ‘bout we find something else to do? Don’t have to sit here bored just ‘cause we’re stuck inside.”

Joel’s cabin was barely furnished beyond the necessities – an outdated kitchen, a stiff living room set, and a couple beds tucked away in otherwise empty rooms. But you couldn’t complain.

No one comes to a lake house to admire the décor.

He perches himself on the other end of the couch and you move to sit up beside him. “What d’you want to do?”

“Well,” he drawls, stalling as he looks around for an answer. “There’s cold beer in the fridge. Got a deck of cars around here somewhere. That could be a good start.”

“Beer and poker? Sounds like quite the party.”

“Hey,” he laughs, hands raised in mock offense. “It’s the best I can do for now.”

Your head tilts as you consider his offer.

Joel was handsome, aged like fine wine with a glint in his eye that spoke of a hidden depth you’d like to explore. Maybe you could have some fun this summer after all.

“All right,” you decide, slipping off the couch with newfound interest. “You find the cards, I’ll get the beer.”

Five minutes later and you’re sitting across the cabin’s small, circular kitchen table, dealing cards from the worn-out deck that Joel had pulled from the junk drawer.  

“Poker, huh?” He grabs his drink by the neck of the bottle. “We don’t have any chips, though. How are we gonna know who wins?”

You place the rest of the deck to the side and pick up the two cards you’d been dealt, fingertips gliding over their frayed, softened corners. “I know another way we can play.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Instead of winning poker chips, whoever has the best hand picks something for the other person to take off. If you refuse, you lose.”

“So, strip poker?” he says with a dry laugh. “You’re not serious.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. Besides – as hot as it is, we don’t need clothes anyway.”

Joel shrugs and tips back his drink, thinking about the day you’d arrived at the cabin, still clinging to your hopes of having the perfect vacation.

Stubbornly glued to the beach towel you’d placed at the edge of the water, sweat glistening on your bare skin, donning a swimsuit that would’ve made a lesser man blush – he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested.  

“Okay, fine.” He concedes and rests his forearms against the table, a wry grin pulling at his features. “But I’ll have you know, I’m very good at poker.”

Four rounds later, and Joel had yet to live up to his claim. Maybe it was just the luck of the cards, or maybe you’d spent enough time observing the man’s expressions to call his bluff, but you’d won every hand so far.

The first round was a close call – a full house versus three-of-a-kind. You’d chosen Joel’s watch to ease into the game, and he’d stared you down with a fire in his eyes as he placed it face-up on the table.

Next, you’d doubled down and won with an ace high, and Joel had been relieved of his shoes and his belt, which he’d dropped onto the floor with the promise of a comeback. The third hand played out the same way and you’d demanded his flannel, stealing glances at his toned arms as he handed over your reward.

By the fourth turn, you were reeling from the high of your winning streak and ready to make your move.

“I thought you said you were good at this, Mr. Miller.” You bat your lashes at him with an exaggerated simper as he deals out the next hand.

“I’m a pro, sweetheart. Just thought I’d let you have your fun.”

Throughout the round, your attention flickers back and forth between your cards and the man sitting across from you. Joel’s left with only his t-shirt and jeans to gamble away, and while you’re deciding which to relieve him of next, he slaps his cards down with a boisterous laugh.

“Well, would you look at that – a royal flush.”

A king and queen lay strewn out on the table, their stony, time-worn faces taunting you with their triumph. You’d been too distracted to notice that the community cards all shared a common suit, lining up perfectly with the cards Joel had been dealt.

He sucks in a slow breath and looks over you in careful consideration, debating what to take for his win. Finally, he gestures to your top and says, “take it off”.  

Still shocked by the unanticipated loss, you place your cards down with a huff and shrug the thin material over your head without complaint. The sunlight glaring through the windows warms your exposed skin as you reveal yourself to Joel’s unwavering stare.

You toss your shirt at his chest and he catches it with a raised brow, eyes tracing over the curve of your breasts before trailing gradually back to your face. He adds your top to the growing pile of clothes littering the floor around his chair. When he speaks, his voice is low in his throat, like he’d finally understood your plan.

“Just beautiful, darlin’,” he says under his breath. “How ‘bout we raise the stakes a bit?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

His jaw tenses as he mulls over his options. “If I win, you come over here and use that pretty mouth for something other than trash talkin’. If you win, I’ll fuck you any way you want.”

You bite your lip to hold back the pleased grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. Either way, you’re bound to have a good time.

“Sounds like a deal, cowboy.”

A palpable tension fills the air as Joel shuffles the deck with a renewed confidence. He lays out the sequence and flips the first three over, and it doesn’t seem like the cards are in your favor.

It’s an aimless, faceless group, and the next two aren’t much better. None of your cards pair together, and there’s nothing to do but accept your fate.

You muck your hand onto the pile with a mumbled profanity, waiting for Joel to flaunt his win. When he drops his own useless cards in the middle of the table, you look up to find him just as perplexed as you.

It’s a tie.

Neither of you have enough to make a decent hand, leaving the game in a dead heat. All this built-up tension relying on this pivotal round, and it’s a tie.

“Well,” Joel says, scratching absently at the salt and pepper stubble lining his cheeks. “I’d say it’s a draw.”

“So, who wins?”

He thinks for a moment before leaning back in his chair and not-so-subtly positioning his knees with room for you to sit in between them. “I think we both win.”

You take the glaringly obvious suggestion and pull yourself out of your seat, slinking around the table to situate yourself between Joel’s legs.

“Claim your prize, Mr. Miller.”

Your hands sweep over his thighs as he pops open the button of his jeans and drags his thickening cock from the confines of his boxers. Beaded precum drools from the tip as he languidly palms his shaft.   

The sight of his digits running over the length of his cock is hypnotizing – rough, calloused fingers against warm, flushed skin. A burning fire builds in your core as you imagine how his cock would feel inside of you.

“Open up for me, sugar.”

He cups your jaw with his free hand and guides you closer until his salty head rests against the plush of your bottom lip. When your tongue darts out to trace the vein on the underside of his cock, he groans and inches forward in his seat.

“Fuck- take it all.”

You eagerly bob over his length and Joel revels in your rapt attention, in the way you dedicate yourself to the task at hand.

“Such a nice mouth,” he pants, prodding the head of his cock against the inside of your cheek and admiring the protrusion it creates. Your fingers twist into the material of his jeans and you chastise yourself for not starting the game with a bolder approach.

Joel’s hips buck against your face as he dips his cock further into your mouth, lingering briefly on the back of your tongue before hesitantly pulling back with a hiss.

“As much as I’d like to keep you down there all day, we’d better stop now if you want your reward.”

You’d almost forgotten about the bet you’d made, too preoccupied with swallowing Joel’s length to remember how you’d gotten into this position in the first place.

He holds a hand out to help you up, and you lick the remnants of his presence from your lips.

“Where d’you want me?” He trails a hand over your arm, sending a shiver up the length of your spine.

“Here,” you say with impressive ambition. “Right here in this chair, just like I’ve pictured all evening.”

“Yeah? Gonna ride my cock right here in the kitchen?”

You nod with conviction and Joel grins as his hands move to the button of your jeans. He yanks the material down past your thighs, fingers hooked into the waist band of you underwear to leave you bare in one move.

“This too,” you mention with a tug to his t-shirt. You want to see everything while you have the chance – who knows how many times a simple game of poker will amount to this.

Your jeans pool at your feet and you step out of them while Joel throws his shirt somewhere off to the side, dark curls sticking up in odd directions from the fabric disrupting their shape.

He leans back against the chair and holds your waist while you position yourself in his lap, his cock twitching with interest as it brushes against your skin. You’re not sure who’s more eager for what’s to come – you or the man beneath you.  

Joel laments the lost opportunity of taking you apart on his fingers and his mouth, but there’s no delaying the zealous way you sink down onto his cock. That’s alright, he thinks with a choked noise, there’s always next time.

His thick length parts your walls with a delicious pressure, nudging against your sweet spot when you settle completely onto his lap. You’re still for a moment as you adjust to the strain, chest heaving with the effort of keeping yourself upright.

“Oh, fuck- you feel perfect.”

Joel’s hands travel up your sides until his warm palms find the swell of your tits. He leans in to sweep messy, open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat, distracting himself with your heavy breath until you’re ready to move.

After what feels like an eternity of waiting in greedy impatience, you regain your strength enough to wrap your thighs around his waist, molding yourself to his frame as you lift up halfway before coming back down, smearing slick over his skin.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Take what you need.”

Your pace quickens each time you raise off his cock, coming back down and grinding against his pelvis in one fluid motion. His broad, freckled shoulders are warm under your hands, an anchor for the rhythmic cycle of your hips over his.

“M’not gonna last much longer.”

You pant as his hand abandons your breast to stroke circles against your puffy clit, carrying you to the precipice of your release.

When your movements falter and you crumple against his chest, Joel picks up where you left off. He thrusts up into you in search of his pleasure, grunting as your walls flex around him.

Just as he’s about to tip over the edge, he slides his length free and grips the base with a tight fist, rubbing the head of his cock against your balmy skin as he paints the evidence of his arousal over your naval.

The air is filled with a litany of lewd sounds, pants and sighs overlapping in your equal states of bliss. Joel’s softening cock rests against your thigh as you run your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and he flattens a hand against the arch of your back, both thinking about how fortunate it was that Joel suggested a card game to cure your mutual boredom.

[pomefioredove]

SAW THE EVENT NOWI PULL UP

the fastest way to shut me up is to kiss me + epel please

EPEL REQUEST 🫡 I LOVE THAT GUY HE'S MY BEST FRIEND

summary: "the fastest way to shut me up is to kiss me" type of post: short fic characters: epel additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, not proofread, cute and fluffy a part of this event

It's not like you like him.

You just feel bad. You're just trying to help!

"A soft spot for him?"

Vil scoffs, gesturing to one of the wide windows of Pomefiore, which Epel is presently outside of, attacking a tree with a big stick to "vent his frustrations", as he called it.

"It's not a soft spot," you insist for the umpteenth time.

Vil rolls his eyes.

"Whatever you want to call it," he says, a clear hint of disbelief in his tone. "Oh, well. If you think you can convince him to change his socks every once in a while without throwing a tantrum, you're more than welcome to."

And with that, the housewarden leaves.

The air outside Pomefiore is perpetually crisp and clear; even breathing here is luxurious...

You stop just a few paces behind Epel, waiting for him to notice as he attacks the tree trunk with the makeshift weapon.

He's got a surprising amount of stamina for someone in a frilly shirt.

"Epel?"

He takes another swing, and the branch snaps clean in half. Huffing and puffing, he turns to look at you from over his shoulder.

"I'm not going back up there," he hisses. It's hard to take him seriously with all that bark in his hair.

"I'm not trying to take you anywhere. I just want to talk,"

Epel groans, rolling his eyes dramatically. "That's what they all say. Well, what if I don't wanna talk, huh? Didja ever think of that?"

He takes the stumpy, broken end of the stick and beats it against the trunk a few more times for good measure.

You could've guessed as much.

"Okay, fine," you huff. "I was just trying to help."

"Help who, exactly? 'Cause if you really wanted to help, you'd be 'gettin me out of this dandy dorm!"

He tosses the branch aside, letting it tumble away. Splinters of bark and stick are splattered across the ground like blood at a crime scene, making a mess out of the perfectly manicured lawn.

You grimace. "I don't appreciate your tone,"

"Wouldja... would you... just... say it?" he hisses. "I'm sick and tired of pretending like insults aren't insults. Dressing 'em up doesn't make 'em any nicer, you know."

"...That's not what I was trying to-"

"If you have something to say, say it to my face!"

Epel takes a defensive pose, putting his hands on his hips and glaring back at you, challenging you to... something.

You don't take him up on his offer. He sighs and slumps against the shredded tree.

"I'm gonna get in heaps of trouble for this," he mutters, flicking a shard of wood off his blazer. "Aren't I?"

You sit down with him. "...Maybe. Sorry,"

"Not like it's your fault. You don't make the rules... you're just better at following them,"

Some of them, you think. But this isn't the time for that.

"Stupid dorm. Stupid Vil. I hate this place. And all my uniforms are itchy," he tugs at his collar to emphasize his point.

You can't help a smile. He looks all tired now, worn out from his tirade against the Pomefiore grounds. That defiant demeanor has melted back into subtle annoyance once again.

"...You know, for someone who insists he doesn't wanna talk, you sure love complaining,"

"Ha ha," he mutters. His eyes dart between you and the dorm behind you, and he smiles. "...You know, the fastest way to shut me up is to kiss me."

"Oh?" you raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Epel nods solemnly, sticking to his story. "It is,"

You follow his example, turning to the dorm to check for lingering eyes, but no one's there.

"Well," you say, getting up and sitting back next to him. "I guess I'll have to test that out, huh?"