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packsvlog · 23 days

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☕️⌇ ◜ OFFICE HOURS ◞ ⠀⠀⠀

╰⠀boss!nanami x secretary!reader where . . . nanami kento can’t let people know the reality that he, under no circumstances, belongs to them. in fact, is quite the contrarie. everyone in this job is a puppet willingly letting him pull the strings. you more than anyone. after committing the bizarre mistake of telling nanami your true intentions with him, your boss is more than eager to comply your desires and just maybe, forget he first input of no belongings.

cw. too much swearing, fingering with others present (not caught), fem!reader, reader keeps daydreaming w. nanami, slightly age gap but non-important all legal, public sex, overstimulation, they both keep failing to hide, possessiveness, love bites, he slap her thigh once, bit of blood because of self lip biting 4.9k words, english is not my first language.

an. hi, hello, i want everyone to know i’m this man wife. this is, in fact, our love story, i used to serve his coffee, now i’m serving my puss— anyways, enjoy it. FYI nanami smells like either tom ford tobacco vanille or byredo bibliothèque.

There are certain events in the workplace ── a sequence, if you may ── that serves as a warning to everyone that Mr. Nanami Kento has arrived.

Not many months ago, you were clueless to the symphony of presentation he had, even before stepping into the room. Now, though, it’s engraved in your mind. Much like he is. It is, also, a dirty secret to have that you eagerly wait for it, everyday.

Halting the tack-tack of your fingers on the keyboard, your ears pick the first signal ── rushed footsteps. All opening space so he can pass without the need to raise his eyes, hidden by sunglasses, from his cellphone. The second is the whispers and swooning. Some, more brave than others, compliment him out loud. Always about his peculiar ties, and always he smiles back. Lastly, when Nanami is in your sight of view, he is accompanied by his signature scent that greets you before he even does.

The most raw way to describe his smell is by saying that you wish you could crack him open, and lay inside of him forever. It’s comfortable and addicting and it makes you want to kiss him until it can permanently fixates on you.

In more proper synonyms, Nanami Kento smells like caramel, wood and a bit smokey. He is hot to the touch, one can admit. You don’t fall far from these thoughts, but sometimes, when you are not eye-fucking your boss, you think he smells like a cozy cabin in the woods.

Perfect place to fuck him, though.

Is easy to imagine such a thing. You can picture him with thick sweat covering his body, like a second layer, as he comes inside with a hatchet and wood for the fireplace. And you can, also easily, imagine yourself on your knees sucking him so good, as way to thank him for keeping you warm.

It’s a Kento effect. Everywhere he passes, people tend to have a heat stroke. You are no better than the others. Probably worse. He, however, does not need to know that. Nanami’s plate is already filled to the brims with people gazing him as a snack, he doesn’t need his personal assistant to do the same.

Not in front of him, anyways.

So, when he comes near your table, and stop to take whatever you have for him (work related, honey, even when you wish it was your pussy), you present the calls he need to answer with a compliment for his shoes and a black coffee with pretzels.

He adores you.

You want to fuck him senseless.

A perfect imperfect balance of clashing feelings. His are professional, yours are not even close. He only steps over the boundaries when it’s to call you “Darling” and you only do so in your head, when you think of laying on his table and letting him feast on your dripping cunt.

He is gentle and caring.

You wouldn’t mind chanting his name loud enough for everyone to understand what’s happening.

He departs ways and you share a trembling sigh with your inner turmoil of emotions. He makes you have a constant fever. In fact, with him, everything is constant. You want to fuck him everyday, you touch yourself with his voice in your mind guiding you. He gets pretty out of character in your alone mind, though.

Real Nanami is a sweetheart. Your Nanami would make you cry while on his cock.

“── and the meeting room needs to be ready by eleven, you can do all that, darling?” He asks. He asks! He is talking with you.

“I, uh, I’m sorry, Mr. Kento,” You stutter before shifting your attention from your computer screen to his charming understandable smile. “could you repeat, please?”

“Sure, darling.”

You need to put extra neurons to work when eyeing his pink lips moving gracefully. Is it the same shade as his cock? Oh, you hoped so. That would be your favorite color, would paint your nails, your hair, anything.

“Got it now?” Nanami curls his lips as he question you. You can’t lie to him, so you sign that No, you did not payed attention. He chuckles and comes closer, resting both hands in fist on your table, letting himself down so he can be face to face with you. “I need you to order mine, yours and the lunch for the usual gentleman I talk about the finances, ── you have that noted, right?” You nod, and he proceeds. “Then, I want you to decorate the meeting room, the way you always do.” You nod again, and he moves back. You want to whine. “Good girl.”

Pause.

That’s new. It’s like achieving a new item in a game. A new level. That’s a prize, the greatest form of enlightenment one could have. You feel warm in your chest and cheeks, but dare not to sway your eyes from his twinkling ones. You wonder if he knows what you are thinking, or if he knows the power he has over you ── over everyone.

That’s Nanami Kento. The man with a dazzling aura, it touches all in proximity, no one survives him. If he wants, you are his. Hooked like a worm, willingly ready to be devoured by a fish, and the thing is no one knows if Nanami is said fish or the fisherman.

The secret about his success is not only the sweet talk he does, but the way he can easily take it away. And no one wants to be away from his warmth. You’ve seen it before, how he controls people ── some more powerful than your mind can comprehend, they all are puppets for him to pull the strings. He touches and praises them when they do what he wants, but Nanami grows cold and absent when they don’t.

Everyone wants to be loved by him, so everything this enterprise does, it revolves around Nanami.

He can be a scary man when he wants, and you’ve heard the tales, from time to time. With you, fortunately, he is just your nice boss. And a part of you wish he would cradle you into his arms and play with you like a marionete. His doll. Yeah, you want to be his fucking doll.

Tempted to ruin this lunch and be ravished by his famine, you shake your deranged thoughts and focus on ordering the food. Also asking for red velvet cookies for you and Mr. Gojo, the owner of this whole enterprise.

A cocky young man, that likes to devour your physique whenever you come inside the room. He is rich and beautiful and his name is always on the newspaper with gossip mostly involved. You could fall for him, could fuck him, but he is not Nanami.

He doesn’t boss you around gently, nor he makes you crave his scent on lonely nights. He makes you shy, but not timid and horny. In fact, you don’t even think about Satoru Gojo unless you are balancing his persona with Nanami’s. That’s sad for him.

You keep doing that ── the thoughts, the sexual dreams ── while preparing the meeting room with a charming decoration. Black glasses, black plates, all with golden details. Satoru Gojo himself payed for it, not that he knows or care. You commented once, Nanami liked, and moved his toys in favor of buying the expensive kitchen utensils you wanted. He even made sure to get some for your own house.

The last part is closing the thick black curtains around the room, for privacy. Someone comes inside the second you step back from the last tapestry, and when you turn, Nanami is there.

“How’s everything?” His fingers press on the table, moving swiftly with him, closer to you. “You’ve got cookies?” There is amusement in his question.

“Mr. Gojo’s secretary, Suguru, told me he was craving something sweet.” You turn back to the table behind you, stacking the sweet in a small mountain. “He always gets fussy if he doesn’t get his daily large intake of sugar.”

You grabbed one, knowing that half of it was rightfully yours, and twisted on your heels. Nanami scared you in two sequential situations after that. The first being his looming presence right in front of you, piercing gaze on you, shifting between your eyes. He was searching for something in it, so, you tried the hardest you could to give him something back. Eyes that said “please, fuck me.”

Maybe it worked. The next thing he did, that scared you, was bending down and biting your cookie. Eyes never leaving yours. You gulped, he smirked.

“Please, fuck me.”

He chocked.

See, your eyes were supposed to be the one speaking for you, but Nanami also has this super power that no one can lie to him. He wants something, he gets it delivered in a silver plate. He knows everyone’s secret, and yours were never safe, just happened to be hidden in a line of things that weren’t priority for him. Not until now, at least. He wanted to know what you were hiding, and you gave it to him.

“I ──” The words are struck behind your teeth. Nanami eagerly waits for them. “I’m so sorry.”

And with that, you leave him.

In a perfect world, he would have grabbed you by the wrists and fucked you against Satoru’s side of the table. But it’s not, because he lets you go. He has to let you go, even if you know that’s not the end of it. He will get you later, and like a little kid in science class, he will dissect everything you said. Therefore, during the thirty minutes of freedom you are granted in the bathroom, before the meeting starts, you try and fail and try and fail to conceal your thoughts into a perfect lie.

It doesn’t work. Not even a bit. Because Nanami knows you like the back of his hand, as much as he knows everyone that works with him. He knows when you lie and when you are truthful, and thanks to that, your work relationship had always been good ── you’ve never lied to him to stroke his ego. You were too busy wanting to stroke something else. Nanami let you slide your nasty comments about others, and he would share them, granting you some of their secrets.

He was a gossiper. He knew everything. You knew right there that lying would never work with him, so you just avoided to let him reach that horny part of yours that burned for him. Give him something else to sink his attention into. Your neck, you wanted, but rather you would feed him with gossips from your college classes, or what you got from Suguru Geto, your friend and Satoru’s assistant.

Now, you had already run out of distractions. Maybe that was his plan all along. If the world is correct, and it all falls down to Nanami’s desires, then maybe he was just waiting for you to crumble and admit. You had never been subtle with your eyes, anyway. That’s why he had been so fascinated about it, staring from time to time, trying to catch a glimpse of your true self, like a wishing star in a starry night.

The stars have gone dark, burned and busted away, when you come back to the meeting room and sit down on your designed chair, by his side. Nanami is focusing at you, again, like he needs more of your secrets at this moment. You have never gave him something so largue before, he is addicted.

But you, stubborn, appalled, stoic and all, think your plate of pasta is the most interesting thing in this whole world. You don’t eat much, because your throat is filled with all the words and screams you want to let out. You fear if you so much breathe loud, it will all come flooding this room.

“Are you annotating all of this in your head?” Nanami whispers in your ear, referring to the meeting now in progress. You sign no, and he sighs. “Your mind is far away, today.”

“Sorry.”

“What should I do with you?”

Someone coughs. An old man, standing by the edge of the table. He wants Nanami’s eyes on him, the praise, the goodness. Kento grants him half a smile, and that is not enough. Never will be. Everyone always wants more.

The lights are turned off when the projector is brought by Suguru, he comes and goes quickly, not before stealing a cookie from Satoru. That’s the first smile you present since the incident, and Nanami is back at staring at you with an intensity your heart fears but your pussy drips for. Are you scared? Petrified. And still, you are fucking horny.

He knows your secret, he is devoting his eyes to you, no matter what anyone else wants. He, in this moment, wants you. It might be because he needs to know what you meant, it might be because you are stroking his ego, finally. Or, you dare wonder, he is debating throwing you on that table and fucking you. Old men and Satoru aside, you wouldn’t mind. At all.

You take courage to look at him, and instantly you stare at his lips first, before his eyes. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. You go back at eyeing the projector. He does the same a long beat later. An even longer one, he slowly puts his hand on your exposed thigh, skirt raised since you set down.

You try to not fail in your stoic face, but you do so anyway. Because, for fuck’s sake, Nanami Kento has his hands on your thigh, his thumb in circular movements. Your lips instinctively curl up, he snorts by your side before going back to his serious demeanor.

You thought he would just keep his hands there, as if testing the water but deciding to stay near the shore. That’s not his case, though. Nanami loves to go to the beach, to swim far away beyond the waves, he likes to get damped. His hand move closer, and you open your legs absentmindedly. He wants, you give. As much as you have wanted, and now he is giving you.

When his hands are pressing against your lacy underwear, you hear a little “Fuck” coming from his mouth. You’re soaking wet.

It’s hard to keep your breathing pattern steady when he is near you. Even more harder when he has one finger slowly penetrating you. For the outsider viewer, everything is normal, and the two of you are just concentrated on the projector screen. The truth is you have no idea what’s going on, and maybe neither does him. You want to moan, and tug his hair until he groans. And you want him to replace his finger with his cock. You stare at the annotation book, empty of your handwriting, and use the opportunity of your head down to hang your mouth open and close your eyes.

Nanami shifts his eyes to you, and he drowns himself into your fucked gaze, even more so when he puts another finger. He can’t linger much, or others will notice, so he decides to keep his movements fluid and calm, and to stare at you from time to time.

He can multitask. Of-fucking-course. He asks questions, answers, he acts as if he is one hundred percent into whatever is going on. The reality is different. The truth is all about his curling fingers pressing themselves in a place inside you that will forever mark his presence there. Like a secret plaything only for him, no one, not even you, will ever reach that. It’s like he is signing it with either his name only or a “Nanami was here.”

You want him to stay, forever. Stay inside you, slow pacing, curling, sensitive.

He can’t, because what feels like hours later, turns into minutes. Everyone is raising up to leave, and he moves out of you so fast, you clench around nothing ── had you been quicker, grabbed his fingers, they all would know. You don’t give a fuck, you want them too know.

“Go to my office.” He whispers before going the opposite direction of the exit, and staying back to talk with the others. You walk without a goodbye, creating an excuse when Satoru wants some of your time.

Inside his office, you feel like breathing for the first time. It’s confusing, like your lungs are new and not fully connected to your esophagus, so it comes up weird ── in a mixture of laugh and relief, salted with a “what the actual fuck”.

You want to stop and think of what’s happening or what’s to happen, but you never had the chance. It’s a second later, and you are being pressed against his, now, locked door. His arms holding your hips, his head resting on your neck, sulking your scent much like you do with his.

“You meant it, right?” He asks, bringing his face up to yours. “You want me to fuck you. Please, darling, say you do, because I need to fuck you now, or I’ll go crazy.”

“Yes, please, please.” Midway through your desperate nod, Nanami lunged at you, catching your lips in his and conducting the rhythm, the strength.

He was so, so good. In all ways. His slow fingers had your legs shaking and his eager kiss has your mind fogged. All that he does seems to be professional, but you know deep down, this effect is all because is made by him. Just his presence alone could have you hot and bothered, but to actually be touched by him, it’s like adding the fire to your gasoline self.

You had always been meant to be burned by Nanami.

He hoist you up against the door, for a quick second his hands kept clawing your thighs, until he walked you both to his desk. He let you down on it, and at the same time, his kisses moved to your neck and shoulder. You could feel the scrape of his teeth, tempted to mark you with a significant bite ── tell them I’m yours, you thought.

He groaned against your flustered skin, because he knew he couldn’t do that. Mark you, that’s it. Fuck you? Oh, that he can, that he will do.

“I need you to be really quiet for me.” His hands are quick on his belt, dropping it with a thud against the floor. He raises your skirt to your waist, Nanami grumbled under his breath with the sight of your underwear. He had touched the elaborate details earlier, but to see it was another story. White, see through, a pink ribbon on the top. “I’m going to rip it.”

“No, you’re not!” Raising your leg, you pushed him away. Eyes still hypnotized by your clothed cunt. You removed the piece with a satisfied smirk. It had been months since you started to wear those type of under-wears, hoping one day this situation would come.

No one wants to fuck their sexy boss with granny’s pants.

The cold table coming in contact with your intimacy made you moan a bit, and Nanami’s attention was back on you. There you were, beautifully waiting for him. Fuck-me eyes, pleading mouth, hands gripping the edge of the desk. You were at his mercy, had been for a while now. And he? Well, Nanami was yours now, that’s what matter.

One of his fingers, the same one he had penetrated you earlier, came back inside you. Smearing itself with your wetness. His other hand gripped your hips, bringing you closer, and making him go deeper. There, right fucking there. He curled, and thrusted, and another two more out of nowhere.

Cruelty was not on the way he was ravishing your cunt, but the biting of your teeth on your hand. You have to be quiet, follow his orders, but Nanami seemed to want to make you scream. Let everyone know that he is fucking you. Nearly fucking you.

Combining this movements with the ones of earlier, you feel your insides getting tighter. He senses as well, and raises his peace once more. But, again, your legs push him away. Nanami doesn’t like that, he comes back quick, wet fingers anxious to reclaim their place inside you, but you sign no, and he halts. That’s it. The man that controls everyone, and he is at your mercy.

“I want to cum on your cock.” Maybe is the sweet and diabolical way you say, or the tilting of your head with a charming smile. What matters is, he complies right away. His pants fall, he takes off his blazer, and not a second later you are presented with what you’ve been craving for months.

Like a pregnant lady, you almost cry and fall on your knees, finally having your desire attended. He doesn’t want that either, instead Nanami takes a condom from his wallet. Before he puts it, his waiting fingers touch your cunt again, grabbing a bit of your liquid and smearing it on himself. You nearly ask him to throw the condom away.

Is a sinful sight. All of this. You on the desk, legs wide open. He in front of you, adjusting himself on the condom. Both groaning when he, fucking finally, align with your entrance, and slowly gets in. He is largue, and thick, and preparation might have been necessary had you not been daydreaming of this moments months ago.

Had he not been himself, that man that makes you drip with just a “good morning”, this might have hurt. Instead, it’s exhilarating to be parted by his cock. The condom does not stop you from feeling his veins tickling your walls, or his tip finally setting near your cervix. That was fucking new. Pleasant and scary, and fucking welcome as well.

“Say it again,” He asks, hands on both your hips and eyes looking over yours. Waiting for the stars to fall over the two of you. “tell me to fuck you.”

“Fuck m──” He doesn’t wait for you to end before he removes himself, and going back with a gushing sound. You nearly scream out of pleasure, but in the last second, you bite your lips strong enough to draw some blood. “Mmh, you fucking a-asshole.” He snorts at that, before slapping your thigh.

Seems that Nanami can do all the noises he wants. He groans against your skin, head hanging low to stare at the way you pussy suck his dick in and out. You have always been a good girl ── his good girl. Taking all the he gave you. Mostly work related, and now his cock. You truly were made just for him.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” A moan scapes your hands, and he doesn’t bother spanking your leg again. He called you baby, and you’re strangling his dick perfectly. You can shout at this point, he is pussy fucked.

Removing your hands from your mouth, you decide to do something much better than guarding your pleasure. Instead, you open his button-up blue shirt. A dream come through, is what this day will be remembered as. Specially now, where he lets you do as you pleases, and you have the sight of his pecks ── bronzed from a beach trip he took last week, and glistening with sweat for your recent activities. You moaned again, before going for it, and marking him.

Nanami allowed you to do so. He only cared about holding your hips and raise your lower body, so he could make you meet his thrusts halfway. He didn’t hold a care in the world about his groaning getting louder, or the burning on his neck and chest caused by your eager mouth and teeth. Fuck that. Fuck everyone. The only thing he truly wanted was to be inside of you forever. To be planted in this moment of his life, on loop, being marked by you, having his cock milked out by your dripping cunt. That’s what his life was made for.

Nanami Kento had this aura that made everyone scramble for him and his left-overs, as a way to keep close. To say they have something that once was his. Because everyone knew that Nanami was no one’s property. This moment, this fuck, this pussy proved that statement to be contraire ── he was yours. From the first day he saw you and specially one hour ago, when he had eaten your cookie and you told him to fuck you. He knew right then that he would shift the whole balance of the world to give you what you want.

And if that’s his aching cock, fucking be it. It’s yours. You’re taking it so good, and barely paying attention to it. He keeps bruising your cervix, and you respond with little whimpers and more bites. He quicken his peace, you close your legs around his waist, as if giving him more opening.

A perfect synchrony.

“Wan’ to cum.” You mumble just right after he senses your wall get tight.

“C’mon, baby, ugh, cum f’me.”

“Mmh, fuck, ngha.”

You do right after, going limp on his arms, he slow his thrusting with a snort and laying you down on the desk. He shuffles something by your dazed-self side, before he brings a black sharpie near your cleavage. He kisses and licks and sucks on it, before opening the pen with his mouth, and signing a straight line.

“How many more can you give me, pretty?” You don’t answer in words, but with more quiet whimpers, when his thrusts go back to pounding you in a maniac pace. He holds your neck down, leaning to kiss you through your beautiful moans.

You’re sensitive, he knows. Because you keep closing more and more around his length, trying to make him cum, unknown to you that it only makes you closer to coming again. You hit your head on the desk when trying to follow his departed lips, Nanami has your neck again on his mouth, tasting your sweat and lotion, and all you can give him. It’s only when he bites it slightly, you release yourself once more.

“Mmph, fuck, fuck, argh.”

Nanami keeps jerking his hips onto yours, not even having cum once. He takes pleasure in yours, you can see. With a proud smirk, he grabs the sharpie once more, but this time, he makes a diagonal line that touches the top of the first.

“Mhm──!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, baby. Just a bit more.” He cooed at you, sweet tone diverging from his animalistic movements.

You’re not complaining, not even regretting. So you keep yourself down and let Nanami control both of yours fun. He is ruthless in his pace and fantastic with his kisses, he doesn’t mind your moaning anymore, or the fact that everyone on your floor already knows. What can they do? Stop you? Nanami will rip everyone apart and just return to your pussy. Threaten him? No one would dare. He is still their sweetheart, their most sacred prize, beautiful and shinning to look at. Never to have.

“I’m, ugh, I’m yours.” He grunts.

This time, you sense a shift in his thrusts. So methodical now sloppy, and his cock kept twitching inside of you, sending more waves of pleasure to your core. Yes, fucking finally, he was near.

“All fucking m──mine.” You agreed with his words, grabbing the back of his neck and slamming your lips together. “I’m yours, always had been.”

Nanami can’t even control himself anymore. He groans and pants as he releases himself inside you. With a mist of swearing and praises you could barely decipher. After all, his own release had triggered yours.

When you both had come back from the high, Nanami raised himself from your chest, and kissed you, tongues intertwining, teeth clashing and biting. When he parted, leaving you breathless, he had then pen in his hand again. It touched your skin, once more, connecting from the bottom of his last line, going up straight.

It’s a “N”.

“You think we can spell my name?” He asks, leaving your inside to throw his condom out. He opens a drawer, where a box with more is presented.

“That would be more 17 fucks.” You support your weight on your elbows while counting.

“It’s that a no?”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat, before beckoning him closer. He does right away, kissing you hungrily once more. As if he is trying to record forever the taste of your mouth. He has your hair in his fists, pushing it back so he can go back to your, now, heavily marked neck.

“Let’s see how far can we go.” You indulge into his crazy erotic idea.

Nanami smiles triumphantly. He removes himself from your body, but doesn’t put condoms, instead, he falls on his knees, diving straight for your pussy.

Hours later, the sun beginning to set on the horizon, you leave his locked office with a smug smirk and timid eyes. Both accompanied by messy hair, flushed cheeks, marked neck and… “Nana” written on your chest.

“We’ll finish this later.” He comes behind you, closing his shirt, but letting the top buttons opened enough to catch a glimpse of your love marks on his chest. Specially the one with “Mine” marked in it.

1K notes · View notes

slu7formen · 5 months

Note

So I got this from a book but a truth and dare game with Luke where she has to lick whip cream of him. You can do whatever you want with this prompt but like a smut could be nice.

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

this single request itself made me wanna try it, love you <3

warnings: teasing, kissing, s3xual tension, food play, drinking, oral (f receiving), mutual m4sturbation, unprotected s3x, possessive!luke at times, biting, f1ngering, chocking, also this is SO LONG, I’M SORRY

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.

₊˚⊹♡

The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows on the faces gathered around the hidden clearing. You all had managed to sneak away from the watchful eyes of Chiron and Mr. D for a game night in the woods. The air buzzed with the energy of a rebellion and contagious laughter – a night of games for the older campers, fueled by salty and sweet snacks and stolen alcohol —a sweet thank you to the Hermes’ cabin—. Laughter and playful groans punctuated the evening as truth or dare, with a twist, played out. Two decks sat in the center of the circle – red for dares, blue for truth.

Silena patiently waited as Clarisse read a red card out loud. "Whoever you find most handsome, kiss them" the card declared, "or take a shot." A playful smile spread across Silena´s lips, her gaze lingering for a beat too long on Charles Beckendorf. A blush crept up her neck as the others hooted and hollered.

"Come on, Silena" Connor Stoll, Hermes' resident prankster, prodded her with a playful jab. "Don't be shy, show us who the lucky guy is!"

With a playful toss of her hair, she leaned across the circle, her eyes meeting Beckendorf's for a fleeting moment before landing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. Beckendorf, caught off guard, sputtered and stammered, his face mirroring Silena's blush. The clearing erupted in cheers and teasing whistles.

The teasing went back and forth, fueling the already lively atmosphere. Next, it was Beckendorf's turn. He scanned the circle, eyes falling on a tall and skinny guy sipping on the last drops of his beer.

“Travis” he called. “Truth or dare?”

Travis, ever the clown, leaned back on his elbows, a confident smirk plastered on his face. "Dare" he replied, popping the r out.

Beckendorf announced the dare after picking up a card: "Take off the socks from the person on your right with your teeth, or take two shots." A collective groan rose from the circle. Lee Fletcher happened to be Travis' unfortunate neighbor.

"Come on, Trav" Luke chimed in, a playful look in his eyes. "Those feet are all fresh and sweaty for ya'." The rest of the group roared with laughter, picturing the image of Travis attempting the sock removal with his teeth.

Travis, with a grimace that contorted his face, finally managed to grab Lee's sock with his teeth and yank it free. He held the sweaty trophy aloft, earning another round of cheers and jeers.

Meanwhile, Luke couldn't help but steal glances at you, sitting next to him. The firelight cast your features in a warm glow, highlighting the soft curve of your lips and the way your hair cascaded down your shoulders like a waterfall. The scent of your perfume, a mix of strawberries and something else he couldn't quite place, filled his senses, making his heart pound a little faster. He found himself captivated by your laugh, the way your lips curved into a smile as you spoke, or the way your brow furrowed in concentration when you contemplated a dare. Sitting next to you felt like being next to a goddess, both exhilarating and intimidating, just like the rest of your sisters; girls from cabin ten.

Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, Travis scanned the circle, his eyes stopping on you. You met his eyes, a playful sparkle in your own, as if daring him to choose you.

“yn, truth or dare?”

You took a swig of your beer, the cold liquid a welcome contrast to the warmth blooming in your cheeks under his scrutiny. "Dare" you replied, your voice laced with a hint of flirtatious defiance.

A surprised whistle escaped his lips. Clearly, he hadn't expected you to choose the more daring option, you´ve been picking truth all night. He reached for a card from the red deck, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. The silence grew thick as he scanned the card.

A barely audible chuckle escaped his lips as he read the card. "Alright, pretty girl" he began, drawing out the words for dramatic effect, " 'Lick whipped cream out of the person on your left's neck, or take a shot.'"

A collective gasp rippled through the group, followed by teasing comments towards Luke. "Castellan's lucky tonight!" Connor hollered, patting his back. "Looks like you owe cabin ten a thank you, man."

Luke felt his cheeks burning like rubies. He tried to appear confident, as he always was, a casual slouch to his posture, but the rapid thump of his heart betrayed his cool facade.

You just stared at him for a moment, a nervous yet malicious smirk on your lips. You enjoyed the sight of him suddenly all red and flustered, a stark contrast to his usual cool demeanor. He looked as cute as ever. "Well?" Katie asked, shrugging your shoulder playfully. "Whip cream or a shot?"

And how could you resist the dare? A chance for your lips to brush against the warm skin of Luke's neck in a gesture that was more intimate than any game dared to be? The thought sent a shiver down your spine, a delicious mix of excitement and nervousness. Licking the sweet whipped cream off him, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath your lips... it was too tempting to pass up, and the possibilities were simply intoxicating.

Ignoring the teasing catcalls and whispers, you turned to Katie with a sly smile. "Where's the whipped cream?" you asked, knowing full well that Silena had brought a large bag of candy, a can of whipped cream nestled amongst the chocolate bars and sour gummies.

Your question erupted into another wave of cheers and whistles. Luke, meanwhile, felt like his insides were about to explode. He felt like a churning cauldron of emotions – nervousness, excitement, a burning desire dancing in his stomach.

Silena tossed the can to you. You caught it in the air, the coldness of the metal a stark contrast to the heat burning in your cheeks. You met Luke's gaze once more.

"Looks like you're about to get a little messy" you declared, getting on your knees now for a better access. With a sweet but weirdly evil smirk, you shook the can, the hiss of the pressurized cream a prelude to the sweet mess you were about to create.

As Luke held your gaze, a slow smile spread across his face. He knew this was a chance, one he couldn't afford to miss. "Alright" he sighed, chest heaving up and down in one hard and heavy movement, his voice rough with suppressed nervousness but laced with an undercoat of confidence. He tilted his head slightly to the left, offering you a better angle, his final invitation. "Do your thing."

The weight of his words, the vulnerability in his gesture, sent a jolt through you. Luke's neck, bathed in the warm glow of the fire, looked impossibly inviting, the smooth skin a stark contrast to the dark fabric of his shirt.

Taking a slight breath, you placed a few dollops of whipped cream on the side of his neck. The coldness sent a jolt through him, making him flinch and hiss lowly. A wave of whispers rippled through the group, a mixture of nervous anticipation and excited curiosity.

Luke caught a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye. You tossed your hair to the side, the movement exposing completely one of your shoulders. In that moment, under the watchful gaze of the fire and their friends, he felt himself going faintly insane with a mixture of desire and nervousness.

You leaned closer, the sweet scent of your perfume filling his senses. As you both closed your eyes at the same time, the air crackled with electricity. Your tongue, soft and warm, darted out with boldness. Pulling down on the collar of his shirt to avoid a mess, your other hand flew to the back of his neck, holding him gently in place.

The gentle rasp of your tongue against his skin sent shivers down his spine. It was a slow, deliberate movement, almost reverent, seductive, as you savored the sweetness of the whipped cream and the warmth of his skin beneath it.

Your actions were hot enough for his cock to start hardening against his cargo pants, painfully. But he has to thank the gods for luckily sitting in a position in which he was covering it.

He pressed his lips together, and apparently, that made his friends laugh. He could hear the soft gasps of your breath as you worked your way around the whipped cream blob, the sound echoing in his ears like a siren's song.

Luke felt like a live wire, every nerve ending tingling with awareness. He couldn't believe what was happening. The gentle touch of your lips made him feel as if a hundred ants walked down his spine, his heart thundering in his chest. He was trying so hard to hold back a moan.

He tried to imagine something else, literally anything, but whenever he tried, the only thing he could picture was you with him in his room, pouring whipped cream all over his neck and just licking, like a cat, as he tilted his head back and you bit down on his pulse, you whispered in his ear, you moaned loudly, you let him touch you.

He was a dead man.

Finally, with a satisfied sigh, you pulled away.

"There" you said, your voice barely a whisper. "All clean"

Luke opened his eyes, his gaze lingering on your lips, cherry lip-gloss long gone, as you finished licking off the last bit of your sweet treat. You met his gaze. Neither of you spoke.

A loud cough from Connor broke the spell. "Well, that was..." he began, searching for the right words, "intense."

“Yeah” Chris joined in, suddenly grabbing Clarisse’s hand and turning to her. “Can we do it?”

The moment was broken, the playful environment resuming its place. A wave of laughter washed over the group when the night took an unexpected turn. Soon, the whipped cream became a must along your friends.

Travis´ eyes landed on a weak Lee. The following minutes were filled with chaos and laughter as Travis chased Lee around the nearby trees, whipped cream can in hand, finally managing to catch him and plant a sloppy glob of cream on his neck. Lee's retaliatory attempt at tickling Travis only resulted in both of them collapsing in a heap of loud laughs.

The game continued, couples forming and reforming with each dare. Beckendorf and Connor, fueled by a rivalry, ended up smearing whipped cream on each other's faces, resulting in a food fight of sorts. Silena and Katie shared a non-stop giggly mess as they licked cream off each other's cheeks.

Even Clarisse, despite her initial resistance, found herself cornered by Chris.

By the time everyone´s face was sticky, exhaustion had settled in. As the fire crackled down to embers, casting long shadows across the clearing, everyone decided it was time to head back to their cabins.

The walk back was filled with drunken stumbling and whispered jokes. Silena and Clarisse, whose tolerance for alcohol was notoriously low, were stumbling back to their cabins, supported by their patient friends.

You walked behind them, a smile playing on your lips as you watched the scene unfold, bag of leftovers snacks swinging on your wrist.

Behind you, Luke admired your figure bathed in the soft moonlight filtering through the trees. Your hips, swaying with each step you took, were basically asking him to be grabbed, to be pulled. So did your hair, bouncing and shining on its on and he wondered what it would feel like to have it wrapped around his hand. His mind couldn't help but flash back to the way your tongue had felt, flat and warm, against his skin. It was a sensation that gave him goosebumps even now, a memory that made his brain feel like melted butter.

He also found no way of getting rid of his boner. His pants were a little baggy, and his friends were drunk, but still, he was just walking around camp, with a boner, and the girl that gave it to him was walking just five feet ahead.

His train of thought was abruptly derailed by a booming voice. "Alright, guys" Beckendorf announced, his voice thick with concern, "I think I'm going to take Silena back to my cabin" he turned his head behind him. “She seems a little too excited, actually” he says, as you all watch Silena´s figure almost falling to the ground as she reaches the Hephaestus cabin.

The others murmured agreement, offering sleepy goodbyes and pats on the back. You joined the chorus, your voice a gentle murmur.

Unlike many of the other campers, whose siblings populated Camp Half-Blood year-round, you were one of the few who stayed all year, along with Silena some months. With the winter season in full swing, your cabin stood empty, the silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the occasional curious critter.

"You alright?" you heard beside you.

Luke, walking next to you now, seemed to pick up on your quiet contemplation. He cast you a sidelong glance, his face unreadable in the dim light.

You pulled a small smile from the corner of your lips. "Yeah, just-, realizing I have the whole cabin to myself tonight."

Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

"Well, then" he began, his voice a low rumble, "Want me to walk you there so you don´t go alone?"

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as Luke's offer hung in the air.

"My cabin's not too far away, Luke" you teased, pointing towards a cluster of trees in the distance. A flash of pink peeked through the branches – the lace curtains that adorned the windows. "See? I can practically see it from here. You just really wanna spend more time with me, don't you?"

A faint blush crept up Luke's neck. He wasn't used to being so transparent, especially not around you. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

"Then I guess" he stammered, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. "that my company is not wanted?"

You couldn't help but laugh, a melodic sound that echoed through the stillness of the night and ringed inside Luke´s ears. Deep down, you knew that was the furthest thing from the truth. The dare had awakened something inside you, a flicker of something warm and exciting burning in your belly. Looking at Luke now, bathed in the cool moonlight, you saw him differently. The way his hair tousled in the gentle breeze, the way his dark eyes held a depth you hadn't noticed before – it all made your stomach twist and tighten.

You placed both hands on the back pockets of your jeans. “When did I say that?” you ask.

A slow smile spread across Luke's face, mirroring your own. He couldn't deny the truth in your words. This playful back and forth shattered a barrier, revealing a connection neither of you had anticipated. His gaze drifted down to your lips for a second.

You noticed. Just as you noticed his hardened dick hidden inside his pants.

As you continued walking, a comfortable silence settled between you, punctuated only by the soft crunch of leaves underfoot. The thought of him, his touch, his nearness, sent a hot wave through your stomach. It wasn't just about his good looks, though you couldn't deny his attractiveness. It was the unexpected intimacy, which was in fact, not so intimate due to your friends’ stares but, it left you with an empty feeling in your chest. It left you wanting more. More about Luke.

And then, it all just made sense.

As you reached the front door of your cabin, you turned around on your feet towards Luke. His eyes were wide and shiny in anticipation, waiting for you to speak. "So," you began, your voice dripping with feigned innocence, "since my company is apparently so delightful, how about you come inside for a bit?"

Luke blinked, surprised by your sudden offer. "Inside?" he echoed.

"You've never even been inside my cabin, have you? Don't you at least a little bit curious about what it looks like?"

You knew your question was a blatant and dirty lie. Luke likely knew the layout of every cabin at Camp Half-Blood, even though it is true that he only took small look from your cabin when the door was open, never fully stepping inside. But it was a way to gauge his interest. You knew how to play.

Luke shifted on his feet, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He wasn't sure if you were serious or just messing with him, but the invitation, whether genuine or not, was tempting. The thought of spending a little more time with you, alone, in the privacy of your cabin, made him think twice.

"Well," he began, his voice rough with well hidden desire, "if you want me to”

The sweet, cloying scent of perfume hit him first, a heady mix of flowers and vanilla that instantly relaxed his nerves. The walls were painted a soft, rosy pink, trimmed with crisp white molding. Pastel blue and green curtains adorned the windows, their gentle hues echoing in the twin beds adorned with pale blue sheets, a stark contrast to the brown bunks of his Hermes cabin.

Instead of the communal sleeping arrangements he was accustomed to, each camper here enjoyed the luxury of their own space. Twin beds stood side-by-side, separated by a blue dresser that boasted a large mirror and neatly organized drawers overflowing with what he could only assume were makeup and beauty products. In the corner, a chest with your name painted in a cheerful font held your personal belongings, and the space above your bed showcased an assortment of pin-ups – Hollywood starts and sultry singers plastered across the wall alongside a few candid photos of your friends, their faces beaming with laughter.

As Luke took in the scene, you walked further into the cabin, the plastic bag of leftover snacks crinkling in your hand. You tossed it onto the bed, rummaging through your chest for a change of clothes.

Suddenly, a small, gushing sound startled you. You looked up to find Luke standing directly in front of your bed, eyes sparkling like a little kid. In his hand, he held the can of leftover whipped cream, a playful white dollop clinging to his finger.

"Really?" you asked, a surprised laugh escaping your lips as you watched him contemplate licking it off. The audacity of the move, the playfulness in his eyes, made your insides twist.

"Don't judge me" he said. "I didn't get to lick it off someone's neck like everyone else did"

Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. His words were a playful accusation, but the way he looked at you, the way his gaze lingered on your lips for a beat too long again, it was more than just whipped cream he craved.

You stood up slowly, a smile playing on your lips. Walking towards him, you stopped just out of reach. "Because you didn't want to" you teased, your voice laced with a hint of playing.

Luke met your gaze, his smile fading into a more serious expression. "Honestly, no, I didn't" he admitted, looking down at you from his taller height. "In front of everyone, I mean."

You tilted your head, a knowing smile gracing your features. "Why not?" you pressed, your voice a gentle murmur.

"I was thinking," he began, you immediately catch up on his nervousness, "that maybe... maybe I could do it privately."

A slow smile spread across your face again. “Privately, huh?" you echoed, your voice a teasing murmur. “Who with?"

He scoffed. “Isn´t is obvious?”

A shiver danced down your spine at his words. You couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through you, the delicious anticipation that hung heavy in the air.

With a playful and exaggerated sigh, you sat on your bed, sinking down onto the soft mattress. You look up at him, resting both of your hands behind you, making yourself as comfortable as possible.

He stared down at you, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. He took a second to sit down next to you, the close proximity making your heart beat just a little louder, and the tip of your fingers sweat. The scent of your perfume, a sweet and intoxicating mix, filled his senses.

"Can I?" he asked.

You simply nodded. “Sure” you say. Every fiber of your being was waiting for him to follow in your footsteps, to recreate the intimate touch of your earlier dare.

Bingo.

You were convinced he was going for the same part of your body that you did on his, but instead, you felt the coolness of his fingertips against your skin as he gently pulled down the collar of your tank top, exposing the delicate curve of your collarbone and the top part of your breast.

A gasp escaped your lips as the coolness of the whipped cream hit your skin. Without missing a beat, Luke took tossed the can aside and, mimicking your earlier action, swiped his tongue across the exposed skin.

The cold sensation of the whipped cream mingled with the warmth of his touch, sending a shiver down your spine. You closed your eyes, savoring the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

His movements were slow and deliberate, his tongue tracing a lazy path across your skin. It was a stark contrast to the playful swipe you'd given him earlier, a wet touch that made both of you realize, very clearly, what this whole thing was about.

A soft moan escaped your lips, barely audible but undeniably present. Luke's breath hitched at the sound, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp nip on your collarbone. Luke had bitten down slightly, the sensation sending a confusing feeling towards your chest.

"Gods, Luke, that's-" you gasped, the word dying on your lips as a wave of pleasure washed over you when his teeth grazed over it again. You didn't even care to finish your sentence, too lost in the whirlwind of emotions his touch ignited.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through you. He licked off the last bit of the sweet treat from your skin, mimicking the way you'd cleaned him earlier.

"There" he said, his voice thick with mockery. "All clean."

You stared at him, your eyes glazed over with a desire that mirrored his own. You felt like a wild animal, unleashed and untamed. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your breath coming in ragged gasps from your parted lips. Your collarbone glistened with saliva, a testament to the intimacy you'd just shared.

You couldn't take it anymore.

You smashed your lips against his in a hungry kiss. It was a kiss unlike any you'd ever experienced, raw and desperate, fueled by the tension that had been building between you all night.

Luke, caught off guard for a moment, quickly responded, his kiss turning passionate and possessive. He slipped one hand behind your back, pressing you closer, the other finding its way into your hair, tilting your head for a deeper kiss.

You tangled your fingers in the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you as you fell onto the bed. He followed willingly, his body hovering over yours. That dare. That fucking dare. It had morphed into something far more intense, a stolen moment of passion that threatened to consume you both.

The taste of whipped cream was there, with the heat of his kiss, a bizarre yet strangely intoxicating combination. Your senses were on fire, your body yearning for more. You reached up, your fingers tracing the planes of his face, memorizing the feel of his strong jawline, the slight stubble that brushed against your skin.

As the kiss deepened, his hand found its way under your shirt, sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. You gasped, a mixture of surprise and delight at his touch.

Your response was immediate when he started to graze his fingertips down your spine. You arched your back into his touch, a wordless plea for more. When he reached to your lower back, he grabbed your hip and pulled you impossibly closer to his body.

You felt his boner pocking on your inner thigh. You wondered how many hours he just spent with his dick painfully hardened, because you don’t really remember how many hours have passed since you chose dare as an option.

Your hands were quick to start pulling Luke’s shirt over his head. He only stopped kissing you to fully remove it and toss it to the ground, lips slamming against yours once again. He held a tight and possessive grab at your jaw, he didn’t want to let go of you.

The tip of his fingers trailed down your neck, your collarbone, a slow path down your body and over the fabric until his finger hooked your jeans, using a single had to get rid of the button, and quickly making it disappear along with his shirt.

“Why are you wearing this?” his voice had gone lower, his throat dry. He looked perfect like this, lips glistening with your saliva, hair messy and a finger hooked on the side of your light pink laced thong.

You couldn’t help but roam your eyes down his torso. The many years of training gifted him with a toned and well-worked body. His veins popped out with ease, starting on his biceps and getting more and more noticeable on his hands, manly, big and rough hands. You bit down on your lip for a moment, fingers tracing down his abdomen, he hissed at your cold fingers against his heated skin.

“It’s just my underwear, Luke” you explain. “Don’t like it?”

Instead of answering, the hand that was holding onto your tiny peace of underwear started trailing up your torso, flat against your stomach and all the way up to your sternum. He felt the soft fabric of your bra and gave you a lopsided smile. “I’m just hoping that this is matching”

And he got rid of your tank top. And it was, in fact, a matching set.

Luke couldn’t help but think that maybe you planned it all. Your cute lacy matching set, the empty cabin, the game. His mind started to race, circuits inside his brain working like a machine.

He hovered over your body again, trailing kisses around your neck. You moaned at the first one since he immediately found your sweet spot on the right side of it, goosebumps all the way from your skull to the bottom of your spine. “Was this all-, some plan of yours?” he asked, rushed voice and breaths coming out in gasps as he started to suck on your neck.

You giggled. “No, it wasn’t. But I was hoping for it-, oh” you moaned, pulling on his hair when he released his suck on your skin with a bop, but you felt his fingers trail up your inner thigh, knuckles brushing against your heated core.

“How?” he asked, slow and painfully teasing movements against your panties, occasionally focusing too much on your clit, making you gasp a little louder as you gripped on his bicep.

“I might have read all the cards earlier” you begin. “And I might have asked Silena to get me some whip cream with your cabin. Just in case I got to-, to do it with you. That’s why I wanted you to sit next to me”

Luke chuckled lowly, beads from his necklace tickling the skin on the base of your neck. “So it was a plan”

“No” you shrug off, feeling his lips against your neck again, sucking greedily. “I just, I wanted it. But I wasn’t sure it was gonna happen. I didn’t know this was gonna happen either”

Luke enjoyed so much the way you couldn’t even speak without letting out a moan or two in every sentence. He felt the fabric of your underwater getting wetter by the second. He listened to you and replied with little “hm’s” as if it was a casual conversation; a conversation in which you had him in your bed, almost naked, as he left bruises down your neck and you had his fingers teasing your entrance, hips rolling against his touch.

“You’re evil” he says. But it’s not you who’s touching him so boldly. It’s not you who leaves him wanting more, it’s not you who teases. But him.

So you let your hand make its way to his cargo pants, slipping past them and his boxers, directly going for his cock. A strangled moan escaped his lips, followed by his chest heaving up and down, surprised by your sudden movement. It felt hot against your hand, hot and heavy and you knew, that it was the hardest Luke has even been.

Your cupped hid balls just for a moment before you started to slowly ascent, finally reaching for his tip. Your fingers wrapped around his length and your thumb started torturous circles around his sensitive head. He sucked in his stomach constantly as you touched him, momentarily forgetting about your pleasure, but you enjoyed this a lot more.

“You really don’t want me to be evil, Luke” you say. “I could be evil and just stand up and make you walk to your cabin, or not letting you fuck me. But I’m not, ‘cause I really wanna feel you inside me, Luke. I really want you”

He let out a long and shaky breath full of relief when you started to bob your hand up and down, and that encouraged him to pull your thong aside, fingers teasing at your entrance. Your own breath came shaky as well when a single finger entered you.

Luke shook his head. “You’re so fucking wet” he pants. He didn’t even touched you properly and you were soaking his finger, lips glistening in your own arousal and leaving a wet patch on your pink underwear. “I need to taste you, doll. Please”

Your chest shakes when you laugh. You think it’s so cute that even though he has a finger buried inside you, your hand wrapped around his cock as you pump him slowly, he still says please, he still asks.

“Do whatever you want to me, Luke. I’m yours tonight”

That’s all the needed to hear. You let go of your hot grip as he steadies himself on your bed. But his hand reaches for something beside him, next to his calve. He brings the whip cream out again. “Can I try something?” he asks.

And how could you say no to his face?

You hold your breath when he leaves little balls of whip cream down your abdomen. You figure it’s empty now, because Luke throws it carelessly to the ground, a soft thud against the carpet on the side of your bed.

He holds your waist steady when you squirm slightly, as if you were about to run away from him. He glances at you for a second, his eyes, dark and dominant, basically telling you to not move a single inch. The plain sight of him, looking at you like that, while his big hands are gripped on your sides, only made you wetter.

He lowers his head to the first blob, tongue agonizingly slow as he only takes the very tip. You whine, you want him to touch you more, you want him to kiss you everywhere, to lick you everywhere, but he only makes it seems like a torture when he stops his movements.

“The more you complain, the more time I’ll take” he said. You nodded to his words, closing your eyes as you tried your best to patiently wait for him to start again.

Soon, you felt his tongue against your skin. This was so much better than your cleavage, so much hotter. You felt his teeth teasing you, attempting to bite but then pulling again, licking the last bit of whip cream before moving down to the next blob. By the time he reached under your belly button, you let out little gasps as his hands massage your inner thighs, dangerously close to your cunt.

He’s not directly touching you, but you feel the arousal getting ticker, and how close Luke’s breath was now to you, so hot and dry. You felt like dripping, even though you weren’t, but you were surely more than ready for whatever it is that he wanted to do to you.

It feels like heaven to him when he finally gets to taste you. He pushed his own head deeper in between your thighs as he groans, as if what he’s getting is not enough. Your high pitched moans fill his ears when his tongue starts slow, little kitten licks over your clit, too soft to even consider them as licks, but it has you squirming and grinding your hips down onto his face, pulling at his curls and asking him for more.

Oh, your sweet pleas. Your moans. Luke feels like a mad man as he start to gently rut his hips against your mattress. And to this point, he’s completely gone in you, too drunk to even care about how loud you were being, how hard he was eating you out, how if someone even tried to walk past your cabin, they’ll hear.

But maybe this is just what he wanted too. He didn’t know how long has it been since he realized he wanted to fuck your brains out, but he always cared about everything too. Where could it be, in a place where no one could see you, how he’d have to cover your mouth to stop you from moaning and letting the others hear you, how he had to pull his dick out slowly and put it back in at the same speed because he knew that if he did it too hard, he’ll become a mess. But he didn’t give a fuck about those things now. He finally had you as he wanted you, why in the world would he care about all those stupid things now?

In fact, he encouraged you. “Don’t hide those pretty noises from me, baby” he panted. “Let me hear you”

He was drooling. He couldn’t help it. You tasted so deliciously sweet, and not because of the whip cream leftovers on his mouth. Yes, it did change things a bit but, he knew how to distinguish what was artificial and what was you. And he loved you. He loved how you couldn’t stop coating his lips with your juices, how your arousal mixed with his saliva and dripped down your ass and onto the sheets.

He never enjoyed a meal so much.

“Luke, wait” you say, pulling at his curls but he only leaned into you more, nose bumping against your clit as his tongue remains inside you. “Luke, I’m gonna cum, wait”

“Then cum” he lifted his head as fast as possible when he heard your words. “Do it, baby.” He noticed the way your thighs were shaking, soothing them down with the palm of his hands.

You shook your head. “No, no” you whine. “I wanna do it while you fuck me, Luke. Please? It’ll feel so good, please”

Luke was starstruck. Oh, how the tables have turned. And how he turned you around too.

You still laid in bed, faced down onto the mattress. Luke had placed a pillow under your hips, ass in the air as he placed himself over you, one knee on each side of your legs. The shaking on your legs had stopped, but Luke noticed how excited you were, how even though you were so fucked up, how a white and sticky mess covered your inner thighs and how your whole body was glistening with sweat, you still managed to crack a smile to yourself as you bit your thumb.

You were driving him crazy. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to look at another’s girl’s face after you. You had him wrapped around your finger and you knew it, and you were just so mean about it, patiently waiting for him to fuck you as he pumps himself a few times, cock harder than it’ll ever be again and his tip leaking with precum.

He placed himself in your entrance, slowly rubbing it up and down your folds, and pushing himself into you at an agonizing pace. His tip was quickly covered in you, glistening with a mix of his saliva and your juices. He tried his best to not let any drop go to waste, getting absorbed by your sheets.

“You wanted my cock, didn’t you, doll?” he asks, pushing himself into you faster than you expected, a loud gasp scraping from your throat. “Then take it”

Your hands instantly reached for the sheets on your sides due to his fast pace, that took the air out of your lungs and started a racing heartbeat inside you, your knuckles quickly turning white as your nails digging into them, but Luke took them both, pushing your wrists together behind your back and holding them there. He used your hands to push himself deeper every time, rock harder, faster.

You were decent enough to muffle your moans in your sheets, but Luke could still hear them mixing with his owns; low grunts, loud gasps and hitched breaths. He had to close his eyes many times to prevent himself from cumming, because what a sight did he have under him.

Your cunt, shiny and coated with a white creamy consistent was sucking him in even when he pulled out. You were so greedy for him. Your walls tightened around him and wanted him to stay there, still, but the rocking of his hips and the gushing sounds of your pussy as he pounded into you was too good to let it pass.

He loved the sound. He loved how you were much wetter inside, making himself feel as if he was pounding into the tiniest and warmest hole ever, creaming his cock and not wanting for him to ever pull out and leave.

He suddenly lowered his body to yours, one hand letting go off his grip to pull your hair aside. “You say you’re mine tonight” he repeated your words in your ear. Your back arched unconsciously, ass slamming back into his cock. “Nah, baby. You’re mine forever”

He let go of your hands, only to place one hand on your throat, pulling you slightly back to him, his fingers squeezing on your sides. Your moans quickly became quite as you tried your best to breathe, but you loved it so much you didn’t even attempt to remove his hand from you.

“You’re all mine, yn” he panted. “Mine. This body,” he gripped on your waist with his free hand, “this pussy, those lips” a ghost of his thumb brushed your bottom lip, pulling down on it. “Mine. Mine. Mine”

He slammed his hips against you repeatedly. You didn’t know when exactly, but you came, and Luke felt it too when the consistent that ringed around the base of his cock became more and more noticeable. And it didn’t take him long to do the same.

He collapsed over your body as you finally gasped for air. You coughed slightly, tears forming on the corner of your eyes but quickly drying out.

“I’m sorry” he said, sliding off you and laying next to you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah-,” you laugh “Yeah, I’m-, wow”

That made him laugh. His arm wrapped around your waist as he placed a tender kiss on your cheek. His hands then started to run down your hair, all the way down to your lower back. You close your eyes at the feeling, only momentarily opening them to see something red in between your clothes, shining carelessly to the moonlight from your window.

You reach down to grab the empty can. “We should get another one of these” you say.

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moonlitdesertdreams · 5 months

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On the Surface

A/N: Nothing important, please enjoy and send me more ideas! Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader, Lucy MacLean WARNINGS: None Summary: Lucy knew traveling with the Ghoul would be tough, but no one told her it would be so... weird. Especially when he stops to pick up another companion along the way.

Word count: 1.2k+

(GIF credit to @talesfromthecrypts)

Lucy surely didn’t know what to expect when she trudged along after the Ghoul and Wilzig’s dog, charmed by its new companion.

She followed, weighed down by the revelations Moldaver had laid bare. It had pulled the curtain away from her entire life and ripped her heart to shreds. Between seeing her father flee and leaving Maximus, her mind was heavy with pain.

The Ghoul was absolute zero on the comfort scale. He walked silently, only breaking it to mutter hypothetical questions at the dog- so affectionately called Dogmeat- and cough dryly. Lucy decided they had to have been walking for hours through sparse woods and dry ground before a flickering light appeared on the horizon.

And after everything she’d been through, she fully expected another fight.

But the Ghoul seemed to gain some motivation at the sight, and moved along at a quicker pace than they had been. Lucy was able to make out the shape of a small campfire burning, less than ten feet away from a fairly large, but crudely-built cabin. It was tucked into a patch of dead trees, and had what she thought to be clothes hanging on clotheslines outside. Even the dog was excited, barking loudly and jogging up to the cabin.

Lucy stopped a few yards away, apprehension freezing her limbs into place. The Ghoul continued on, hopping lithely onto the front porch and knocking at the door. Again, she expected the occupant to come out, guns blazing, and be killed by the man at her door.

Maybe he’d even make Lucy carve pieces of them off to make jerky again.

What she didn’t expect was the door to open, and the Ghoul to crack a smile she’d never seen. A figure- a woman- stepped out onto the porch. Lucy watched them exchange a few words before the woman leaned in towards the Ghoul and…. hugged him?

What the fuck even was this place?

The Ghoul, always cold and callous with Lucy, chuckled out loud. “Miss me, sugar?”

When she pulls away, the woman is beaming. “Every day.”

Lucy probably looks like a whole fool, jaw gaping and brow furrowed in confusion. She stares at the woman, who eventually turns an eye to her.

“What’s this? Gettin’ some on the side, Cowboy?” The still unnamed woman trots off the porch towards the Vault-Dweller.

Upon closer inspection, the woman doesn’t appear as angry as her statement. She’s got long hair wrapped into a complicated braided style to keep it up and out of her face. There’s a smattering of freckles over her sunburnt nose, and a jagged scar running the length of her right cheek. The gnarled tissue pulls her mouth into a scowl, but she’s otherwise well-kept. She’s probably three or four inches shorter than Lucy, but no less intimidating.

“Calm down, woman.” The Ghoul bites. “This is Lucy MacLean.”

The woman pauses, looking back to him for confirmation before staring back at Lucy. “MacLean, eh? I can see it.”

Spurs clank as the Ghoul takes those slow, scary steps towards the woman. “Thought you might be interested in comin’ along. We’re followin’ her dad. Hank.”

A smile twists the lady’s lips, fighting against the wretched scar on her face. “Come on in. We can leave in the morning.”

And that’s how Lucy finds herself in the rickety cabin. The woman- who still hadn’t offered up a name, much like her Ghoul friend- had led her to a room and tossed a scratchy blanket and pillow in behind her. Despite her gruff exterior, she had told Lucy there was a pantry in the kitchen full of non-perishables, and cans of purified water hidden in the back. And though water sounded beautiful, Lucy was more stoked about the water purifier connected to the house. She was told there was cold but clean water in a makeshift wash room to clean up.

So Lucy took her time to freshen up in the first relatively put-together place she’d been since coming up from the Vault. The little cabin did have lights, thanks to a generator that hummed along outside. She was able to scrub the grime from her face and hands, and attempted to do the same with her Vault-suit. There was an old Nuka-cola bottle on the floor in the washroom with ‘SOAP’ scratched across it in cursive. It lathered like any other that Lucy remembered, and she felt like a new person walking out of the wash room and back into her own little space.

Unsurprisingly, her empty stomach reared its head in protest, and she decided she’d make one last trip to the pantry before bed. There were no voices outside of her room, just the humming of an old Television setup she’d seen on her way in. Lucy tiptoes back to the junction of the living area and pantry, but stops dead in her tracks. The lights are all off, and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust.

The living area right inside the door, the one she’d passed by on her way in, was occupied by both the Ghoul and his mysterious friend. However, instead of the simple sofa she’d observed prior, it was now pulled out into a bed.

A bed in which the woman and the Ghoul were curled up, completely unconscious.

Lucy almost feels bad intruding on the situation, but she’s more bewildered that anyone could show such affection towards the irradiated man she’d come to hate over the past few days. And they’re not even just sharing the bed, they’re tangled together and… cuddling? The Ghoul is on his back, head propped on a pillow and hat still on his head but tipped down low to hide his disfigured face. The long coat he’d worn day in and day out is hanging over the armrest beside his bandolier, guns easily accessible. And the woman, looking relaxed as ever, is curled up on her side with her head on his chest. The Ghoul has one arm curled around her shoulder, the other loosely gripping his inhaler device as he sleeps.

Lucy collects her jaw off the floor and scoots along to the pantry, snagging a couple ration bars and a can of water before heading back. She tries not to look again as she goes back to her room, but the temptation is too great. She pauses, turning back only to hear the click of a gun being cocked.

In the darkness, she can only see the whites of the Ghoul’s eyes and a flash of teeth. “Move along, Vaultie.”

Lucy obeys, and practically dashes back to her room.

So when they move out in the morning, Lucy pretends not to notice anything. When the pair stops their trek and leans in close to murmur directions at each other, Lucy taps away at her Pip-Boy.

There’s even a time where she returns from gathering water to find them locked in a kiss, coats swaying in the Wasteland wind. And Lucy had immediately backed up, lingering in the treeline until they broke apart.

The displays of affections continue with the travels, and it wasn’t odd to wake up to the sight of the woman curled beneath her Ghoul’s arm, content as ever. Days pass, and Lucy doesn’t mention it. It’s kind of cute, she comes to think. She didn’t dare mention anything in fear of the Ghoul’s wrath.

So their odd trio trots along through the desert, letting Dogmeat take the lead.

And Lucy? Well, she's learning to be blissfully ignorant towards the abnormalities on the surface.

----

thanks for reading, much love ❤️

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

#fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x f!reader #The Ghoul x Reader #the Ghoul x you #cooper howard x oc #fallout tv series #lucy maclean #walton goggins #fallout fiends #possessive!cooper howard #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout new vegas #ghouls deserve love too #the ghoul

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illyrianbitch · 13 days

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Of Our Own Devices

For @erisweekofficial Day 1: Bargains

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Desperate to reunite with Lucien since his exile to Spring, you find yourself paying an unexpected price to his older brother.

Warnings: some mentions of death & injury, swearing, spitfire reader and a cunty eris. <3

Word Count: 3.2k

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The storm had rolled in with frightening speed.

It was one of the rarer, powerful storms of Autumn. The type that caused the sky to turn to charcoal, produced lightning that illuminated the canopy of fall leaves and made them seem like flickering, live fires.

You stumbled into the dimly lit cabin, drenched from the rain that had come pouring down in sheets. The cabin was one you had never seen before— a hidden refuge of Eris’s that you weren't aware existed. Despite its small size, it was surprisingly beautiful, furnished with deep, velvety fabrics. Eris had pulled you into the home without a word.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you turned to him, watching as he shed his outer layer and hung it on a hook near the door. He moved to the cold, empty fireplace next, and with a flick of his fingers, he summoned a flame from his hand. The flame danced briefly in his palm before he extended it toward the blackened wood in the hearth.

Seconds later, a crackling sound filled the room, bringing the fire to life and filling the space with a warm, golden glow. Eris watched the flames for a moment. Then he stood up, facing you once more.

"You promised me I'd be in Spring by tonight," you said.

Eris tsked, brushing past you as he sat himself on a velvet, red couch. His scent lingered in the air—a smoky, strong aroma. A shiver ran through your body. You attributed the reaction to the influence of the rain on your warm skin.

He didn't bother to meet your eye as he responded. "I promised no such thing. I said I'd take you to Spring tonight."

"Then take me."

He raised a brow and for a moment, you almost expected him to make a childlike comment, a brutish joke about the sentiment those words could hold outside of the context. But he didn't. His eyes, however, told you that he was thinking about it. It was unnerving, how you could read him so well, how years at Lucien's side had come with an unexpected consequence: becoming familiar with his brothers, too.

"It's a storm. Winnowing is risky in this weather," he said smoothly, voice as cool as ever. "I’m not risking both our lives just because you're impatient."

The wind howled outside the cabin, rattling the wooden shutters as you took a deep breath— in through your nose, out through your mouth. The eldest Vanserra noticed the frustration immediately, and your efforts to calm yourself dissipated as a small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I’m not staying here,” you snapped. “I’ll walk if I have to.”

At first glance, the couch appeared almost pristine, but as the firelight grew and you paid closer attention, you could make out traces of dark grey, black, and brown hairs—the hair of his hounds. The detail settled somewhere inside you. You weren't sure where.

“If you do that, you’ll either die of exposure or run into my father’s men. Either way, not a great plan.”

You froze, your hands tightening around the fabric of your cloak as you grasped your arms, fingernails digging into the material. “So my options are to stay here with you or die?”

He shrugged lazily, but the motion still held a sense of regality to it, an eerily elegant form. It made you even angrier.

“Seems so," he said, a smile forming on his lips. It was as warm and genuine as a snake’s kiss, much like the disarming charm you had come to expect from Eris.

You'd never spent this long with him alone, never needed to manage his calculated gaze or purposely chosen words without the buffer of Lucien. You would've gladly gone your entire immortal life without doing so. But you missed Lucien— your heart ached without him, longed to be near him, to have his laugh echo in your ears. And this was the only way to be with him again, even for a few days.

And Eris knew that. He knew it all. You assumed it was why he bothered to take you in the first place. It gave him the pleasure of knowing he had power– control.

Your blood boiled.

“Are you enjoying this?” You stormed toward him, standing over the couch as he stretched, clearly unbothered by the storm—or your anger. “Trapping me here, knowing I have no choice.”

“Trapping you?” He laughed softly, sitting up slightly to meet your gaze. “You came to me, Vixen. If you want to go, the door’s right there.”

The sound of the wind howling through the trees outside made his offer ring hollow. You struggled to rummage through your thoughts, through the anger, frustration, and disgust that he managed to stir in you.

The stupid, stupid nickname was all you could focus on, now. Memories of a younger you flooded your senses, memories of a younger Eris, one much less rigid, much more open, almost. An Eris you crushed on. You'd never admit the truth to anyone— that the reason you and Lucien had become so close, despite your natural connection, was because once upon a time, he was glued to his older brothers hip. And so you'd glued yourself to Lucien's.

Eventually, the years evened things out, and your feelings flowed from the eldest Vanserra to the kindest one. To Lucien.

Lucien. Your mind reminded you. This was for Lucien. Don't piss Eris off, don't ruin your chances at seeing him again. Don't engage—

"Stop calling me that, you arrogant prick."

Your hands dropped to your sides, instinctively curling into fists as Eris peered at you with a burning, amused stare. His amber eyes gleamed like a predator toying with its prey.

"I see Lucien's absence has impacted your ability to maintain that temper. Those breathing exercises not working well for you?"

Something twisted deep in your gut.

"Now that I think about it, I think I'll take my chances with the storm."

Before you could make a move to leave, Eris was standing, his chest now inches away from you as he peered down at you. You didn't move, then, only straightened your shoulders and met his gaze.

Eris wasn’t the beefy, broad-shouldered type that other males in the court might have been. He didn’t have large, bulging muscles meant to intimidate. Instead, he was a lean kind of strong, with a pointed nose and sharp features that cut through the dim light of the cabin. He exuded a different kind of intimidation, one that stemmed from his inherent authority and the staunchness of his posture. He carried himself like a prince—elegant and commanding, every inch of him a testament to his future role.

Beron was merely keeping the throne warm until Eris was ready to claim it for himself.

"We both know you're not going to do that."

You tightened your fists further. "And why not?"

"Because you aren't stupid, Y/n."

Eris cocked his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied your face with a cold, calculating gaze. His features were sharp and chiseled, the faintest freckles dotting his high cheekbones.

"You're not going to risk losing your chance to see Lucien."

He leaned down and his breath fanned your face, warm and mingling with the scent of cedar and smoke. His eyes danced across your face, moving from holding your gaze to traveling further down, lingering on your lips—on the scowl you wore on them—before he met your eyes again. The fire's flames grew larger, consuming the oxygen in the air that had already seemed to be thinning.

You said nothing as he continued, "Uncurl those fists, take that soaked cloak off, and wait. "

You stayed quiet, taking a deep breath before you stepped to the side, purposefully brushing your shoulder against his broad chest as you moved. Despite your urge to resist him out of spite, you reluctantly removed your cloak and tossed it on the clean floor of the cabin.

Eris scoffed. "Really? Must you act like a child?"

The floorboards cracked as he walked and, faintly, he mumbled something about how his hounds were better mannered. Eris picked up your cloak, dusting it off with a gentle hand before hanging it up next to his own.

"I'm curious," he began, glancing over his shoulder as he walked towards the couch. "Does Lucien know?"

You glared at him. You were growing tired now, the exhaustion of the trip slowly growing deep in your bones.

"What are you talking about?"

Eris smirked, his gaze lingering on you with a knowing glint as he settled back on the couch. "I'm talking about how you're in love with my sweet, sweet little brother."

You stiffened, a wave of emotion crashing over you—cold and awakening, a nauseating mix of embarrassment and fury.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Eris's face remained insufferably composed, a cocky grin playing at his lips. His eyes gleamed with a self-satisfied spark.

"No need to lie. It's just us two here," he purred. "I've always enjoyed how honest we can be with one another. It's why I preferred you over Jesminda."

A sharp, uncontrollable heat seared through every nerve in your body, a wave of anger surging like a wildfire.

"Keep her name out of your mouth."

It felt like a disgrace to have him say it, to hear her name immortalized on the tongue of the brother that allowed her to die. The brother that had killed her, according to Lucien. His sobs still echoed in your mind, the image of a broken male etched into your memory. You'd had only five minutes with him before he fled, five minutes of frenzied packing, desperate promises, and anguished confessions of what his father—and his brothers—had done.

Eris's gaze lingered as he analyzed you.

A beat passed.

Then another.

You were beginning to feel naked, as if he had stripped you of every defense you'd managed to muster around him. You turned away, unable to bear the weight of his stare any longer.

"I didn't kill her. I didn’t help.”

Your face went slack, caught off guard and momentarily confused. You pulled yourself together quickly, straightening your back, hoping he hadn’t noticed your reaction. As you turned a little, your face almost sad now, you could’ve sworn you saw something in his eyes—something akin to regret, maybe even compassion.

Your voice was low, not bothering to hide the sadness, mourning, the raw anger, as you responded.

“I don’t believe you.”

The trace of care in his gaze vanished as he shrugged, the same indifferent gesture he’d made earlier. “Have I ever lied to you?”

You stared at him, taking him in with the same analyzing gaze he'd offered you.

It was strange how alike he and Lucien looked, how alike yet so different all the same. But the longer you stared, the more you began to feel stuck— hypnotized, tempted to walk closer to him, to ask him what it was that went on in his mind, what caused those flickers of emotions you couldn't name across his face.

But another moment passed, and all you could see was a male who Lucien hated, a male who was selfish, who reveled in the pain caused by chaos. Your mind drifted to other rumors and stories you’d heard about him. You settled on one in particular.

"You left an innocent female to die in the woods because she didn't want to mary you. Butchering your brother's lover doesn't seem outside of your past-times."

A cold shift washed over Eris’s face. His disinterested expression hardened into a mask of disappointment, then flared into a simmering anger. It was a contained fury, like a finely tuned flame.

"Don't tell me you believe the lies of Night Court trash. Surely you're smarter than that. I know you are."

"Fuck you," you snarled. "You know nothing about me. I'm not going to let you play some twisted mind games with me. I'm not a doll."

He shook his head. "You are not."

A beat. Then a smirk grew on his lips. "But you are just as pretty as one, if we're still being honest. You're wasted in your one-sided love, Y/n."

You said nothing, turning to walk to the other side of the cabin. The corner held a bookshelf with carefully arranged volumes, a finely crafted wooden table, and a collection of artifacts on the windowsill.

Eris just laughed behind you, a sound so smooth and soothing that it felt sinful against your skin.

You resisted the temptation to snoop, to explore the cabin and bask in the rare vulnerability of the brother who had always captivated you in the most wretched of ways. It felt strange seeing him like this—relaxed, almost at ease— as if simply crossing the threshold of this modest cabin had stripped away the invisible chains and burdens only a prince could bear.

You stayed still and stared out the window, focusing on the sounds of the storm. You hoped that the rain would drown out the sounds of his breathing— sounds that rang too loud in your mind. You didn't want to know why he seemed to do that, why he lingered so deeply in your head.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The storm raged on for a few more hours.

The time was spent in tense silence—at least for you. Eris remained on the couch, reading through a novel about the history of the continent. You would've never thought him to enjoy such a thing, to want to know about those outside of his court, of mortals, humans, no less.

And when the rain finally stopped, he rose wordlessly. With a brief gesture toward your cloak, he led you out, winnowing you the rest of the way in silence.

When you finally reached the border of Spring, a wave of relief washed over you.

The vibrant greens of the new season were almost blinding after the gloom of the storm. You took a step forward, eager to escape the tension that had gripped you for hours. You'd be with Lucien soon, be able to hug him, to tell him of all the things he'd missed in your life since his exile.

But before you could move any further, Eris's hand closed around your arm. You turned to him with a glare, meeting his glowing gaze and infuriatingly calm smile.

“Are we forgetting payment?”

You strengthened your glare, gritting your teeth before you pulled yourself out of his grasp, reaching for the small bag hidden within your layers.

Eris stopped you with a casual wave. “I don’t want your money.”

You stiffened, straightening your posture. The sounds of Spring echoed behind you, their vibrant melodies almost taunting as you lingered on the border. Eris’s smile shifted into a smirk, his eyes glinting with something dangerous, something that made you swallow instinctively.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner.”

You thought back to how he had offered to take you to Lucien, how this entire arrangement had been his idea. You should've held back, should've been more wary of his motives. But you'd been too excited, been too blinded by the joy of being with Lucien once more.

“What do you want, Eris?”

He took a moment to take you in fully, eyes scanning you from head to toe, and then he took a small step back.

“A bargain,” he finally said.

“A bargain?”

He nodded. “You will not tell Lucien it was me who brought you here.”

You frowned, a crease forming between your brows as you blinked at the male before you. Perhaps you'd heard him wrong. “What?”

“If he asks, you’ll say you bought off a hunter in Autumn, a mercenary. Whatever you’d like,” Eris continued.

You drew your brows tighter.

“I thought you'd want to revel in the fact that he might somehow owe you. Prove your power, even."

Eris shrugged nonchalantly. “Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you’d like to think.”

He extended his hand, his palm open and the gleam of his ring-clad fingers catching the light. You hesitated for a moment, body still stiff with unease, with confusion.

You scanned his face. Eris loved played games. This was no different. There was no point in reading into it. So you rolled your eyes and prepared to shake on it, reaching for his hand. He pulled it slightly out of reach.

“What now?” You groaned.

He hummed in amusement.

“And when I come to get you to return to Autumn, I want your help.”

You raised a brow. “My help?” you asked, incredulously. "How the hell would I ever be able to help you?"

Your family had no title, no powers beyond a tame ability to fight and heal. You survived in Autumn because you were ordinary—and ordinary meant no one looked for you. Noticed you.

“I want to call in a favor,” he clarified.

“What favor?"

"We'll see," Eris said with a smile and a tilt of his head. “I think you could help me out dearly."

You let his words settle for a moment. His eyes, glistening with a dangerous glow, seemed to hold something predatory, something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There must've been an underlying threat in his proposition, something sinister you had yet to notice. After all, he was a male known for his ruthlessness—

You stiffened.

He was a male. There was one easy way for males to assert their dominance, to gain pleasure, to accept payment.

You took a step back instinctively and Eris’s gaze tracked your movement before returning to meet your eyes. A shadow flickered in his eyes, reminiscent of the dark, unsettlingly soft gleam you’d seen in his cabin when he first glimpsed your saddened expression. Seconds later, his face shifted to one of mild amusement. He rolled his eyes with an empty chuckle.

“Settle yourself, Y/n. Not that kind of favor. I can bed females without resorting to bargaining for their affections,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension.

A flush of embarrassment crept up your cheeks. You looked to the ground for a moment, taking a deep breath as you regained your composure. When you finally met his gaze again, he was already extending his hand towards you once more.

“A favor in the future in exchange for this time with Lucien,” he purred smoothly. “And your silence. Consider it our little secret.”

The smirk that grew on his lips was maddening and you could feel the heat of his gaze, the flickering fire of his amber eyes urging you to comply. Every instinct told you that binding yourself to him was a terrible idea.

You glanced back over your shoulder, looking to the green, sunny expanse behind you. Lucien was there, somewhere amongst the greenery, and with a simple bargain you'd be with him again.

Without a second thought, you turned back to Eris and took his hand.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

happy eris week yall!!! rising from the dead specifically to post this lol, i fear i love this pairing so lets see if i decide i wanna write anything else for them. thank you for reading!! (i miss writing so so so much)

i might make this into a miniseries, so lmk if you’d like

to be tagged <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻:

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound-blog

@melissat1254

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

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ohisms · 4 months

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↪ 𝑺𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 , HISTORICAL 〳 FANTASY edition ! ( a collection of 25 settings based upon the period 〳 fantasy genres ; meant to inspire drabbles or be used as prompts . WILL be updated . )

001. the interior of an elegant carriage .

002. seated at a large dining table set with an elaborate meal .

003. the shadowy corner of a lively tavern .

004. the top of a light house during a raging storm .

005. along the dimly lit corridor of a large manor .

006. the damp , dark brig of a pirate ship .

007. the ruins of an ancient structure lost to time .

008. a theater hall brimming with attendees .

009. the bustling streets of a market town .

010. a sun - drenched vineyard .

011. along a boardwalk overlooking the sea .

012. a moonlit cemetery full of weathered graves .

013. on horseback , deep in the woods .

014. a luxurious drawing room smelling of tea .

015. a sprawling dragon roost , hidden atop craggy mountain peaks .

016. a war - torn battlefield .

017. a beautiful cathedral bustling with churchgoers .

018. within a crammed opera box during a performance .

019. an elegant tearoom serving afternoon refreshments .

020. a lakeside pavilion on an especially hot day .

021. a sprawling network of underground catacombs .

022. a hidden glade in the middle of the woods .

023. the deep , dark dungeon of a castle .

024. a market square full of fruit and fineries .

025. a baker's shop smelling of wonderful pastries .

026. the quiet stables of a large estate .

027. on the outskirts of a magnificent water fountain .

028. in a dimly lit library , hidden amongst the books .

029. among the high walls of a hedge maze .

030. at the front desk of a warm , homey inn .

031. under the protection of a gazebo as it rains .

032. on the landing of a busy train station .

033. a gambling hall alight with raucous laughter and drink .

034. a pristine infirmary , mostly empty .

035. on board a huge ship making a long voyage .

+ 20 more setting prompts : 6 / 01 / 2024

036. in a sunlit garden adorned with blooming flowers .

037. at the edge of a serene forest lake under a starry sky.

038. within a quiet corridor of a castle during a lavish ball .

039. in a bustling blacksmith's forge , sparks flying .

040. on a rocky cliffside overlooking a vast ocean .

041. in a quaint village square during a festival .

042. within a secret chamber hidden behind a bookshelf .

043. in the grand atrium of a luxurious hotel .

044. along a narrow brick alleyway in a crowded town .

045. within a busy marketplace in a desert town .

046. on a tranquil beach at sunrise .

047. in a cozy cottage with a crackling fireplace .

048. at the helm of a majestic airship soaring through the clouds .

049. in a grand library filled with ancient tomes .

050. on a bustling harbor dock as ships come and go .

051. within a magical forest where the trees glow softly .

052. in an apothecary's shop filled with herbs and potion .

053. at a secluded cabin by a dangerously quick river .

054. within the opulent throne room of a powerful ruler .

055. in an enchanted glade where fairies dance in the moonlight .

#rp meme #rp prompt #inbox prompt #ohisms #rp inbox prompt

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breadbrobin · 9 months

Text

the trees

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: you have a very specific skill set that helps your team with capture the flag, and clarisse thinks it’s fascinating. in fact, she thinks you’re as fascinating as you think she is.

warnings: swearing, arguments, fighting, PINING, heights i guess (reader is up a tree), possibly ooc clarisse but not too much i hope.

word count: 2.5k

(so the brainrot has (inevitably) spread to clarisse. there’s gonna be a part two to this as well, so lmk if y’all want it (tbh i’ll probably post it anyway but still). oh and also i love her and i am a clarisse apologist and lover until the day i die)

(sort-of-enemies to sort-of-lovers, but more like idiots to pining idiots (in a tree))

(part 2 here)

———————————————

archery wasn’t the only thing you were good at, but it was by far the best thing you were good at. a daughter of apollo: master of archery, mediocre of music and magical at making weird ass noises. bird calls, animal sounds, imitations—you name it, you could do it.

and those were useful tactics in capture the flag, for sure.

annabeth chase was a master strategist, and you had to give it to her: she remembered everyone’s strengths, weaknesses and alliances while you couldn’t even remember what you’d had for breakfast that day.

as always, you were tucked up in a tree, around halfway up. you weren’t too high, so that you could speak and people wouldn’t automatically know you were above them, but you weren’t too low so they couldn’t see you.

you kind of liked being in the trees now. after three years of capture the flag and around six months of freaking out every time you climbed above ten feet, you were finally used to it. it was almost calming; a way for you to relax after a stressful day and pretend that nothing around you existed.

until the red team came by, that is.

that’s what you were waiting for. the flag was around fifty feet to your right. your job was to be a lookout and a distraction.

it was your favourite part of the game, getting to trick people and shoot arrows at them when they came too close, allowing the blue team members around the bottom of your tree to pop out and disarm their opponents.

it wasn’t a trick you used every time—not even the ares cabin are that stupid—but when you did use it, you had the time of your life.

there was a snapping branch to your left. you straightened up from where you were leaning against the tree trunk behind you and peered through the leaves. you were perched on a thick bough, hidden by leaves and branches, but able to see enough through them that you could do your job.

you could hear voices, but you couldn’t see anyone.

you listened carefully. you knew that voice.

you realised with a start who it was.

clarisse la rue.

fucking clarisse, man. she drove you insane. and not for the reason she drove most of camp insane. no, unlike almost everyone else, you were attracted to her. in fact, you were, annoyingly, in love with her, you’d have to admit. it was infuriating.

you could hear her cutting through the forest. it was strange. she didn’t usually come for the flag. usually, she hunted in the woods and caught stragglers. she didn’t want the glory as much as she wanted the fight. to her, winning the battle seemed more important than winning the war.

regardless of why, you could hear her voice. she was talking to her siblings below you, creeping through the foliage.

the sun was warm on your face and you send up a brief prayer to your father.

from your lips slipped an almost perfect impression of your blue team guards. you’d used this trick last game, but clarisse hadn’t been there, so she wouldn’t know. “i can’t believe they put us on guard duty again.”

they all froze in their tracks, looking at each other, then ahead in the opposite direction from the flag.

you held in a snicker. “ugh, yeah, it’s the worst. i mean, why can’t we do anything fun? i wanna fight clarisse!”

you could see the smirk curling on her lips and you had to stop yourself from blushing.

you continued this cat and mouse game. the ares kids below you fanned out, aiming to surround you. it would have been a smart move, if there was actually a flag there and not just a tree.

slowly, they inched in, then leapt out.

“ahh!! you caught us! i’ve been impaled!”

they looked around in fear and confusion but clarisse looked straight up. she always did.

“hey, angel, nice voice,” she mocked. “wanna come on down?”

you shook your head. “no, thanks, i’m comfortable.”

she raised and eyebrow, seeing your arrow drawn and pointed directly at her. “that’s not necessary.”

“isn’t it?” your arrow flew and, though she hit it away, you teammates came pouring out of the foliage, having been waiting for your signal.

a fight ensued. it looked like it was going well for a short while, then the tides turned.

they weren’t as caught off guard as they usually were. hell, clarisse was even smiling!

with what looked like very little effort, the ares campers effectively destroyed your teammates. they were left disarmed and defeated, and you were stuck in a tree. typical.

as her siblings took their weapons, clarisse looked up at you. “you wanna come down now?”

you shook your head. “rather not. the view from up here is pretty good.”

she muttered something to herself, but you couldn’t hear her. then she spoke up. “what if we come up there?”

you drew your bow back immediately and an arrow pierced the dirt right in front of her foot.

she looked down at it, then back up at you, an amused smirk on her face. “right, silly me.”

that surprised you. she was usually cold and cruel in capture the flag, always taking no prisoners and leaving no survivors—in a technical sense. you’d seen people nursing their minor wounds after the games when your siblings forced you to help out in the infirmary (not that you’re much help in there, but regardless), and everyone heard the stories they’d tell of clarisse appearing out of the ferns and attacking ruthlessly. so why was she not being so ruthless today?

she was certainly cruel in her fight against your team members, but any other day, she would have thrown her spear at you or thrown one of your arrows back, or even climbed up anyway. instead, she just smirked up at you, content to wait.

“where’s the flag, bows?” she asked, using a nickname she’d only used a few times, one that referenced both the bows you used and the bows you sometimes put in your hair.

you shrugged. “dunno. they don’t tell me anything. i just get out here and told to be annoying.” your traitorous eyes flickered to the direction of the flag. you’d never been good at lying.

and curse her, clarisse noticed. she always noticed when it came to you, it seemed. whether it was catching you in a lie, catching you when you were admiring her or catching your every move when sparring, she always noticed.

she nodded at her siblings and they moved off. “i’ll wait here. try and flush our squirrel out.”

if they were confused or surprised, they didn’t show it.

once they were gone, clarisse plucked the arrow from the dirt and studied it. “this is new.”

“sam from hephaestus made them,” you said meekly. why would she stay behind? it didn’t make sense. you weren’t a threat, or even a good fight.

her face darkened. “oh. and where is your boyfriend now, then? hm?”

your cheeks flamed. “he’s not my boyfriend.” and it was true. he wasn’t. despite the fact that he liked you and made things for you all the time, your heart was decidedly with another. and she was right below you, tossing your prized arrow aside like an old tissue. “he’s on your team anyway. you should know where he is.”

she smirked again. “oh, yeah. i remember now. that’s right, i sent him to try and get our flag. he didn’t even make it five steps before he was attacked.”

her bitter laugh made your heart clench. was it pity for sam or your feelings for her, or both? you weren’t sure. either way, it was starting to get on your nerves.

it was silent for a long time. she looked up at you every few seconds, then at the tree, like she was gauging how hard she’d have to push you for you to die on impact. her eyes were sharp and her smile was sharper, and fuck you were attracted to her.

you cleared your throat and broke the silence, hearing fighting off in the near distance. you would go and help, but the only way for you to do so would be to tree-hop all the way to the flag, and while you could do it, it wasn’t the best idea. “why did you stay h—what are you doing?” you aimed an arrow at her.

“relax, angel, we both know you won’t actually shoot me.” she was climbing up the tree. fast. “and don’t worry, i’m not gonna push you out or attack you. i don’t like looking up at you.”

call you stupid or whipped or whatever, but you believed her. you lowered your bow but didn’t lessen the tension on your string. she’d almost reached your branch when you swivelled around to face her. you moved fast, your arrow returning to its holster and you body facing the trunk of the tree with your legs swung over each side of the wide bough. your dagger was swiftly removed from its holster and pressed under clarisse’s chin.

she laughed at you.

you faltered slightly. “what?”

“nothing,” she snickered. “i just saw it coming. now scoot back.”

you dropped your dagger and shifted backwards, glad the bough was strong.

she clambered onto your branch easily, sitting facing you with her back against the tree trunk, a smirk on her face.

you sighed bitterly. “you see everything coming.”

she shrugged. “pretty much. but so do you.”

“that’s the gift of divine premonition,” you grumbled. it could be useful sometimes, but all you really got was a sense, a feeling or, occasionally, a single frame of a moment. right now, though, your senses were so clogged with her vanilla-strawberry and leather scent, and with her, that you could hardly think, let alone experience a minor prophecy. not to mention the fact that if you did, you’d probably fall out of the tree.

she shrugged. “isn’t that useful?”

“yeah, when it actually works or doesn’t make me pass out.” you shrugged. “it’s temperamental.”

she hummed in thought, leaning back and crossing her arms. her knees were mere centimetres from yours.

“what are you doing up here, clarisse?” you asked.

she shrugged, but you could see a shift in her demeanour when she said your name. it was like the muscles in her shoulders relaxed for a moment, then tensed again. “didn’t want you to escape.”

“so you let your other prisoners escape?” you gestured to the ground, where your teammates were sitting around fifteen feet from the tree in a circle, plucking the grass.

clarisse raised her eyebrows at you in amusement. “oh, i think they’re fine. they’re too scared of me to do anything, anyway.”

you narrowed your eyes at her. “i don’t think you’re that scary.”

she rolled her eyes. “sure. but everyone else does. so you’re wrong.”

“it was my opinion. my opinion can’t be wrong if it’s my opinion.” that was another thing: you were never one to start an argument, but by god would you escalate it.

“your opinions wrong if i say it’s wrong,” she huffed, her jaw tight.

“not how opinions work, babe,” you said lightly, using your dagger point to carve away at the bark beneath you.

she smacked your hand to stop you. “you’re gonna dull it!”

“the point is already dull!” you protested, poking your finger to show her. it indented, but didn’t draw blood. “see?”

“so, what, you threatened me with a butter knife? i’m offended.”

“it’s the idea of it that cuts deeper anyway. the primal fear of being gutted by a dagger. in capture the flag at least.” you shrugged, carving a wonky flower in the bark. “it’s more about threats than action.”

clarisse rolled her eyes. “and what if a monster comes and attacks you, and all you’ve got is this blunt dagger?”

“you ever seen an archers muscles?” you turned slightly and flexed your shoulders. you could see her eyes follow the sharp lines of your shoulders and back. “i’ll use force. force is more effective than sharpness. you know that.”

“and yet, my weapons are all still sharp.” she snatched the dagger from you and pulled out a whetstone from a pocket in her cargo pants. she began sharpening your blade.

“hey, don’t—“

she smacked your hand with the flat of your own blade when you reached for it, and you withdrawn with a hiss, shaking your hand. she laughed. “i guess force is more important, huh, angel?”

your cheeks were hot. “don’t call me that.”

“why, you worried you might like it?” she looked up, teasing. her eyes narrowed at the look on your face and then she grinned. “you do like it.”

“no. shut up.”

she laughed again, but it was a little softer than usual. she looked back down at the dagger. “did sam make this for you?”

“yeah, w—clarisse!” you gasped as she dropped it off the bough. or, more accurately, threw it off the bough. “what was that for?”

she shrugged. “it’s not that good. i’ll get you a better one from the ares stash. don’t worry.”

you glared at her. “that was mine, though!”

“it was blunt and poorly made,” she protested. “it wasn’t good enough for you.”

the way she said it made you think there was a double meaning there.

“he’s not good enough for you,” she said, softer, proving you right.

your eyes were wide and your cheeks were flaming. “what?”

“you heard me.” her softness was staying, it seemed. if you weren’t mistaken, her hand was reaching for yours. “he’s not. you know he’s not. why do you like him?”

before you could respond, a horn blew in the distance and cheering erupted from around the forest. red team had won.

clarisse didn’t look happy. she leaned back—you hadn’t even realised she’d leaned forward—and glared at the bough between you both.

“congratulations,” you said softly. “you deserved the win.”

“yeah, we did.” her voice carried very little enthusiasm.

you studied her face for a minute, like you were committing every feature to memory. “clarisse…”

she didn’t respond. instead, she swung her leg over the bough and started climbing down. only when she got two branches down did you begin to follow her, hurrying in your attempt to catch up. you couldn’t. no matter how good you were at something, she was better.

she nodded at you as she walked off, your foot caught in a tight spot.

once you’d finally got down, your teammates were surrounding you. some asked you what had happened, some accused you of being a double agent for them, some asked if you were okay.

you answered them all absently as you all walked back towards the stream, but your heart wasn’t in it. what the hell was going on?

you’d reached the stream by the time you realised you’d left your dagger behind, and you were back at your cabin, trying to fall asleep, when you realised that it didn’t bother you at all.

(part 2)

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #dior goodjohn #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show

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dark-moonlust · 16 days

Text

Yeti x Ice Witch

Pairing: Yeti monster x Ice Witch reader

Summary: You are weakened after a spell and a Yeti finds you in the cold woods. He nurses you back to health and then you realize you are mates. But how will this mating work between you, when he is three times your size?

Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18+!!!!, explicit monster smut, oral (fem+male), huge 🍆, magic to fit, buckets of come.

This is the full one-shot. It was posted first on Patreon as my patrons get early access to my Tumblr posts! Happy reading!!

In the icy wilderness, you forced your legs to move and take you back to your cabin. Your most recent magic spell had left you weakened, your power drained from exertion. Alone and shaking from the cold, you looked around the vast forest and felt the snowflakes kissing your face. You wouldn’t make it back, you wouldn’t—

A massive figure appeared on the horizon, three times bigger than your own size, closing in on you with loud footsteps. It was a Yeti, towering and powerful, his fur glistening white. Your eyes and body were heavy but before you could lose consciousness, strong hairy arms held you, cradling you against a surprisingly warm chest.

The Yeti took you to his home and treated your internal magic force. Power sung through you and after hours of rest and sleep, you woke up feeling more powerful than ever. You sat up on the comfortable bed and looked around his house. The ceilings were impossibly tall, built to fit his great height.

You heard his footsteps as he approached. He entered the room and somehow he made it look small. Now that you were feeling well and strong again you could appreciate him fully. He was furry all over with broad shoulders, strong arms, a chiseled chest, and thick thighs. He was naked, but didn’t look indecent at all. You guessed his cock was hidden in the slit between his legs. Somehow that thought made your belly pool with warmth.

“What are you thinking, little witch?” he asked, his glinting blue eyes fixed on you.

“You.. you saved me, thank you,” you said, trying to ignore the ripples of pleasure inside you. What was wrong with you?

He sniffled the air. “You’re aroused.”

“I’m not doing it deliberately. Perhaps it’s because I’ve just recovered.”

“Perhaps,” he growled, his voice husky with hunger. “Or perhaps it’s something else entirely.”

A beat of silence passed as you stared at each other, and then, you both realized the truth—you were mates.

“Mate,” he growled, causing a shiver of desire to ran down your spine.

“Yes, mate,” you agreed, a hand rubbing over your heart.

He was upon you in no time, his massive body looming over your small frame, his fur-covered chest rising and falling with each breath. Retracting his sharp claws, he tugged at your clothes and exposed your lithe body to his eyes.

“Slender,” he muttered as he leaned in to kiss your neck. “Yet so round,” he said as his tongue tasted one breast, his hand cupping and feeling the other mound. “I can feel your little heart pounding, mate. So strong.”

Moving even lower, he worshipped your smooth belly and seemed fascinated with your bellybutton. Trails of fire ignited along your skin when he reached the apex of your legs, his mouth licking your pussy. He suckled and nibbled gently at the plump lips, lapping up your juices. He feasted on you, and you rocked your hips in time with his movements. You came in no time, waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your back arching in ecstasy.

“This one is tiny,” he commented, a thick finger probing your pussy. “I won’t fit.”

Just in time, you looked down and widened your eyes at the sight. His cock had exited his slit, it was long and hard, veins traveling around the curved shaft. The head was a wide flare, beads of pre-cum glistening at the tip. He was thrice the size of a human dick at full-mast and your heart gave a little flip at how strong and monstrously beautiful he was.

Reaching down, you cupped his cock, wrapping both palms around it. He growled and since he couldn’t kiss you— his jaws were too big, he thrust his tongue inside your mouth. Your tongues brushed and mated, though his was wide and textured, impatient to explore every crevice of your mouth.

“Want to suck you, my big handsome mate,” you whispered as he devoured your mouth.

Sitting back on his back paws, he offered you his cock. “It’s all yours, my beautiful witch.”

Feeling giddy, you crawled between his legs and let your tongue taste the pre-cum at the tip of the pulsing cock. You pumped him with both hands, licking around each vein and lapping up the seed that escaped the head.

‘“Fuck,” he hissed, watching as you struggled to suck the whole head of his cock in your mouth. You managed it, your lips stretching wide, little tongue licking frantically. You tried to take him deeper but he was too thick.

The Yeti cupped the back of your neck. “You are doing so good.”

“Hnn… I want you inside of me,” you muttered around his cockhead. You ran your lips along the girth of it, nuzzling it, wanting it.

“You can’t,” he said, his voice pained. “Your pussy’s too small.”

“I… I can help with that,” you kissed his cock one last time then drew back.

Focusing your energy, you weaved your magic and altered your insides to accommodate the Yeti’s massive cock. The procedure was painless, it only tickled slightly as the changes took effect. Immensely proud of yourself, you sent him a wicked grin.

“I believe nothing will stop you now.”

His gaze darkened with desire. “My little witch, you never cease to amaze me.”

The Yeti wasted no time, his body crawling over you. His furry chest rubbed against your nipples while his big paws splayed your legs wide, baring your our slick pussy to him. He kneeled between you and closed his mouth over your pussy, suckling loudly.

Clutching his head, you held for dear life and rubbed your cunt against his face. You wanted him inside you. He growled, pleased as he tongued your cunt, thrusting a thick finger in your depths. You accepted it easily, your walls stretching around it. Another followed and you squealed as it pushed inside you with ease.

"Please, ah, hah… just take me," your words faded when you felt the warmth of his leaking cock probing your pussy. His snout buried in your hair as he fingered your cunt and replaced them with his cockhead. Carefully, very carefully, he parted your pussy lips and moved his hips, the flared head of his dick moving past your tight entrance. He filled you, inch by delectable inch and you clutched his fur, your breath hitching when he bottomed out.

You’d done it.

Looking down, you saw him staring at the same sight; his cock was balls-deep inside you, making your belly bulge.

“Damn, that is a sight I will never get bored of,” he drawled, “look at you. So stretched and perfect around my dick.”

“Hmm… now please, move.”

“Eager little witch,” he kissed you, plunging his tongue inside your mouth.

He started thrusting, fucking you with primal ferocity, his penetration deep and powerful. You were so wet that his cock came out frothing with your juices. He fucked you to the edge of ecstasy and you came hard around him, sweet climax rolling through you. Your contractions made him piston faster, and with a defeating roar, he spurted inside you, his cock pulsing so strongly that you came again with violent aftershocks. Load after load of hot cum was released inside you, it filled your belly and trickled down your shaking legs.

“I love your pussy,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I wonder how many rounds it can go.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” you said, giving his big wet nose a kiss.

#yeti x reader #yeti monster x human #yeti x ice witch #monster x reader #monster x you #monster smut #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster fucker #monster x human #monster fudger #monster romance #monster x female reader #monster fuckers #monster bf #monster kink

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miyasturniolo · 1 month

Text

CABIN NIGHT | matt sturniolo

pairing: bf!matt x f!reader

summary: where matt takes you to a cabin in the middle of the forest for a romantic evening together.

warning: smut, sub!matt, p in v, use of y/n, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, love, baby), hair pulling, protected sex

warning: smut, dom!matt, p in v, use of y/n, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby), hair pulling, protected sex

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. I haven't posted for a long time, sorry about that

WORDS: 2.3k

miyasturniolo on wattpad

you - pink | matt- blue

Matt has always mentioned or asked you to come to a cabin with him, but you have always agreed and then accidentally made other plans, or he ended up having to record a YouTube video because his brother changed the timetable. As a result, you never had the opportunity.

Today, however, you both finally had the chance to go out and stay at the cabin for a few nights, just the two of you. Matt was very excited, not only because you were with him, but also because he admired a cabin in the woods where no one knew your location.

As he drove, Matt couldn't resist placing his hand on your thigh, a habit he developed when you were in the passenger seat. He never mentioned it, but once he had Chris sitting next to him in the car, and he randomly placed his hand on Chris's thigh for a few seconds, resulting in an awkward silence and Chris teasing him about it ever since. However, Matt didn't let it bother him when he was with you in the car.

The music was playing softly in the background as the two of you chatted. He glanced at you while keeping his focus on the road, and gently squeezed your thigh to get your attention. You responded with a slight hum and made eye contact before he had to turn his attention back to driving.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his tone gentle. "I know we finally have the time, but I don't want to pressure you. We can turn back if you'd rather not go."

He was eager to go, but unsure if you felt the same. The last thing he wanted was for you to do something you didn't truly want to do just for his sake. Your smile reassured him, and he smiled faintly in return, waiting for your response.

"Why wouldn't I want to?" you answered, watching his side profile as he drove.

He chuckled, his teeth peeking through, as if he thought you were joking. To him, it was clear that he wanted nothing more than to be in a cozy cabin in the middle of the woods with you.

"Have I not made it clear enough for you, sweetheart?" His words caused your eyes to roll, already knowing the answer.

Neither of you spoke, he simply rubbed your thigh and continued to listen to the navigation system guiding you both on the remaining distance until your arrival.

You gazed at his hands, noticing his painted fingernails matching yours, though his were starting to chip off due to his habit of scratching or biting them occasionally.

For the next hour or so, he drove until finally reaching your destination.

Upon arriving, he quickly exited the car to retrieve his belongings and opened the door for you before you could even reach for it, prompting a soft laugh from you.

"Thank you, but I could have done it myself," you said, though secretly enjoying the gesture without needing to express it.

"I prefer to make my girl feel like a princess rather than treating you like a slave," he whispered as he kissed your head before locking the car.

He would retrieve our luggage shortly, but first, he wanted to make sure the key was where it was supposed to be since no one else was around.

He found the key hidden under the plant pot, surprisingly untouched. Just as he was about to pick it up, he remembered the owner talking about some safety tips and details before he rent it.

"Would you like to relax while I grab our things, baby?" he inquired, scanning you from head to toe and smirking when he caught your gaze.

"Don't you want some assistance with that?" you asked, meeting his blue eyes as he simply shook his head in refusal.

You watched him for a moment, considering helping him, but he grabbed your arm and guided you back to your previous position beside him.

"Come on, y/n, be a good girl and listen to me. I don't need help with this," he emphasized, ensuring his words were clear. It wasn't just because he didn't want your help, but also because there were only a few bags to carry since you were both staying for three nights.

You didn't respond, choosing to stay where you were instead of entering the cabin alone. You waited while not helping him.

He made the task of carrying the bags to the cabin seem easier than it actually was. To him, it was no big deal.

He entered the cabin first, with you holding the door for him as he carried both of your belongings. He headed straight to the room, as he had looked it up online before renting it for a short period.

As he disappeared into a room, you took the opportunity to look around. Your fingertips brushed against the soft wood and door handles, trying to figure out the layout of the place.

"Are you exploring? Finding something interesting? What are you up to, love?" he asked upon returning and seeing you inspecting something, though he wasn't sure what.

He approached you and hugged you from behind, resting his head on yours as you took in the details of the room.

"Just looking around," you answered, rubbing his arm adorned with tattoos before starting to walk, yet he still kept his hands wrapped around you.

He wasn't as touchy in front of his brothers, as he never wanted to make them uncomfortable. He was more likely to show affection when the two of you were alone in his room, but he faintly worries about his brothers walking in and judging him for being clingy. However, when he knew it was just the two of you, he could truly relax and be comfortable around you.

You smiled and kissed his hand, as it was the closest thing your lips could touch. Soon after, you pulled away, causing him to watch you.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes focused on you. He wanted to make sure you were alright. You simply nodded and reached into the bag to get a drink of water before putting it in the fridge.

He checked you out like he had done before entering the cabin, admiring your beauty as usual, but something about you today seemed particularly appealing to him.

Without taking any action, he simply sat down on the couch, and before long, you joined him, resting your head on his shoulder. He placed his hand on your arm and gently rubbed it. "Why do you look so stunning today? You always do, but..." His words trailed off, leaving you slightly puzzled and intrigued, but he quickly laughed it off.

After a moment of silence, he felt your fingers tracing his tattoos and readjusting his shirt after. "Could you pleasure me in some way?" he asked quietly, causing you to pull away and meet his gaze as he bit his lip.

"Could you be on top?" he pleaded, continuing to stroke your arm before kissing the tip of your nose.

"Are you being serious right now? Like, actually serious?" you questioned, to which he just gave you a stern look before responding.

"Do you want me to show you my hard cock to prove I'm serious?" he asked, his accent subtly present but not overpowering.

He leaned in and gently kissed your lips, resting his head on the armchair as you slowly straddled him.

"Do you like that, baby?" you whispered, feeling his touch tender as he eagerly tried to remove your shirt.

You broke away from the kiss before he could fully undress you, his gaze fixated on your chest.

"I'm not a fan of bras, but I do love boobs. Well, some bras, at least. They can push your boobs together and drive me wild," he confessed before you silenced him with another kiss.

He groaned and returned the kiss, his hands fumbling with your bra until he finally unclasped it.

After squeezing your breasts, he pulled away from the kiss, admiring your exposed chest that belonged to him as you were his and he was yours.

"Fuck y/n," he grinned. He was acting like a child, but he didn't care. You took off his shirt, and he let you do it.

His torso was exposed, and you ran your hand over it, feeling him harden beneath you while on the couch.

His cheeks were red, and whimpers escaped his mouth as you moved on his lap. He was needy, and you could tell.

You didn't waste any time, knowing he hated being teased but also loved it, depending on his mood. But you could see he was too horny to handle any teasing.

You slowly got off him, making him a bit worried, but then he watched as you took off his jeans, causing him to bite his lip.

His pre-cum stained his boxers, but he didn't seem to care or even notice. His legs trembled slightly with need, but they weren't shaking too much yet.

You left him in his boxers as you slowly undressed, testing his patience even though he couldn't do much.

"Y/N, please, don't make me look foolish here," he whispered, glancing at you before realizing you were testing him.

He removed his boxers on his own as he watched you shed your remaining clothes. His member throbbed, and he couldn't resist the urge to pleasure himself in that moment.

You placed your hands on his knees and then ran them up to his thighs. He caught his breath and gazed at your hands.

"Are you sure you want me to make love to you?" you asked. He nodded, but then swiftly reached for his jeans, pulling out a condom from his pocket.

"Did you anticipate this?" you teased. He just shrugged and handed you the condom. You opened it with your teeth before sliding it onto his erection.

He gasped as your hand made contact with his eager member, craving your touch.

He grinned at you before gripping your hips, guiding you to straddle him on his lap since he couldn't bear not feeling your touch on his throbbing shaft.

He ensured that you were comfortable and adjusted to his size. His eyes rolled back as he restrained himself from moaning in pleasure.

"Good girl, y/n," he stammered out, noticing the mix of pain and pleasure on your face as you slowly rocked your hips.

He tried to control his excitement so that you wouldn't experience any pain after getting accustomed to it once again, as you had done many times before, and he particularly enjoyed when you were wrapped around him.

"Oh, yes," you whispered to yourself, the pain gradually giving way to pleasure.

You began to move more vigorously, which is what he desired and enjoyed. Both of you let out sounds of pleasure.

He grabbed your hair, pulling it back, causing you to close your eyes and part your lips, feeling his strong hands in your hair.

The rougher and faster you went, the tighter he held onto your hair.

Your moans were like music to his ears, which he adored. Your mixed-up breathing, as you focused on being dominant some of the time and the other on the pleasure.

His eyes glistened with pleasure, his skin becoming moist as his cock was coated in your wetness. He could tell you were close by the way you were getting rougher while riding him on the couch, your moans growing higher in pitch.

"Are you close, sweetheart?" he asked, looking at you before pulling your hair as his orgasm built up.

You nodded, both of you covered in sweat. You pushed his hair back while continuing to ride him, his hands exploring your waist.

His eyes rolled back as you began kissing his neck, causing him to moan softly from the sensation and your movements.

"Damn, I'm going to cum if you keep teasing me like that," he whispered softly, almost inaudibly.

You felt your own orgasm building, sensing Matt's cock twitching more inside you, indicating he was close as well.

A few tears welled up in his bright blue eyes, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through him. He bit his lip in response to the sound of your moans, unaware that you had just reached your climax on his cock.

His eyes widened in amazement and desire, a mix of awe and lust consuming him. He felt your legs tremble slightly from the intensity of your orgasm, yet you continued to ride him with such vigor that it clouded his thoughts.

"Oh, that's it, y/n, fuck," he groaned, his hands entangled in your hair as he released into the condom.

His moans echoed louder than yours, his body arching in ecstasy as he struggled to stifle his sounds.

As you gradually slowed your movements, he finally caught his breath and was able to gaze at you intently.

"Can we do this every night while we're in the cabin?" he asked with a smirk, cheeks flushed.

"Maybe," you replied as you dismounted, leaving a trace of your essence on his member. He removed the condom, tied it off, and disposed of it in the bin.

"I can make you say yes," he says, throwing down the gauntlet. You arch an eyebrow as he winks and settles back on the couch beside you once more.

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d1stalker · 1 month

Text

Second Nature [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In the freezing cold of the wild, you are saved by a man with many secrets. He takes you in, and soon you learn that you’d follow him anywhere. Takes place during The Wolverine (2013)

Warnings: does not accurately follow the events of the movie, hairy logan (heart eyes), misunderstandings

WC: 4.2k - MASTERLIST

----

Northern Canada was just as unforgiving as it was beautiful. The chilled air bit at your skin, and the vast wilderness stretched out endlessly, it was a place where few dare to venture.

It had been days since you’ve seen another soul, your only company being the towering trees and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the brush. You weren't not entirely defenceless as a mutant, though your powers were something you keep close to your chest.

The day started like any other—cold, silent, and solitary. You were making your way through the dense forest when you heard it: the deep, guttural growls of a pack of wolves. Your senses went on high alert as you froze, but before you could react, they were upon you.

There were too many of them. You fought as best you could, using your powers in quick, controlled bursts, but the wolves were relentless, and violent. Just as you thought you might not make it out, a figure burst through the trees. He moved with immense speed, claws extended from his hands—no, not quite claws, but something far more lethal. He tore through the wolves with an ease that spoke of years of experience, and within moments, the threat was gone.

You were left standing in the snow, gaping at the man who had just saved your life. He was wild-looking, with long, tangled hair and a thick beard, his eyes fierce and sharp. He didn’t speak at first, just looked you over, assessing mutely, before finally grunting out a rough, “You alright?”

You nodded, though your heart was still pounding from the encounter. “Yeah, thanks to you.”

“Shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said gruffly. “This place isn’t safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied, though you knew full well how close you had come to an early demise. You didn’t offer any explanation for why you were out here, and he didn’t ask. Instead, he simply turned and started walking away, as if saving your life was just another day for him.

You hesitated for a moment before following him. He didn’t seem to mind, and you were curious about the man who had appeared out of nowhere. He led you back to a small, rough cabin hidden deep in the woods. It was clear he had been living here for a while—there was a worn, lived-in look to the place.

Over the next few days, you found yourself staying in that cabin. The man, who you learned was named Logan, didn’t talk much, but he didn’t seem to mind your presence either. You kept your powers hidden, mainly out of habit, but a part of you was unsure of how he would react if he knew the truth. You knew he was some sort of mutant too, but he had an air of someone who had seen too much, who carried a heavy burden, and you weren’t ready to add to that.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, a quiet companionship developed between you. Logan was still rough around the edges, but there were moments when you caught glimpses of something softer beneath the surface. He was a man who had been through hell and survived, but the scars were still there, etched into his soul.

You weren’t sure when you started to think of him as a friend, but it happened slowly, in the small, unspoken ways you helped each other. He taught you things about the wilderness, how to track and hunt, while you offered a quiet presence that seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders.

Then, one day, everything changed. A woman appeared at the cabin, her hair bright red and her demeanour as sharp as a blade. Yukio, she called herself. She had come to find Logan, to tell him that his old friend Yashida was dying and wanted to see him one last time in Japan. Logan was reluctant at first, but Yukio was persistent, and eventually, he agreed.

You hadn’t expected him to invite you along, but when he turned to you with a serious look in his eyes and said, “Come with me,” you found yourself nodding before you could think about it.

----

When you arrived at the estate in Japan, Yukio immediately declared that a cleanup was in order. Logan resisted, of course, but she insisted. You were too tired to argue and knew she was right. You hadn’t had a proper bath in weeks if not months. The little tub in the cabin did barely enough to make you feel freshened up, and the idea of finally being clean was too tempting to pass up.

She led you to your separate rooms, where hot baths and fresh clothes awaited. The water was blissfully warm, and as you soaked, you felt the tension slowly ebb away. You scrubbed your skin clean, washed your hair until it felt soft and light again, and when you finally stepped out of the bath, you almost didn’t recognize yourself. The fresh clothes Yukio provided were simple yet elegant, a far cry from the rough, dirty outfit you’d been wearing for days.

After dressing, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. For the first time in a long while, you felt... pretty. It was a strange sensation after everything that had happened, and you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it. Logan already waiting for you when you saw him. Your breath caught in your throat. His long beard was nowhere to be seen, a uniquely styled facial hair left in it’s wake. His hair was trimmed as well. His usual gruff demeanor was still there, but he looked... different. Handsome, in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

He was staring at you too, a look of surprise flickering across his face before he quickly masked it. "You clean up nice," he said lowly.

"Thanks," you replied, trying to sound casual, though you were acutely aware of the way his eyes lingered on you.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, taking in the sight of each other. You had always thought Logan was attractive in a natural, untamed way, but seeing him like this, it made your heart stir in your chest.

Yukio interrupted your thoughts, her voice cutting through the silence. “Good. Now that you two don’t look like wild animals, we can get to work.”

----

Yukio led you and Logan through the estate’s winding paths, the sound of your footsteps muted by the soft ground. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the garden, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to admire the beauty of the place.

Finally, you reached a large, open room where an elderly man sat in a wheelchair, his frail form dwarfed by the spaciousness of the room. Yashida’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and labored, but there was a sense of peace about him, as if he had come to terms with his impending death.

“Logan,” Yukio said softly, her tone respectful as she gestured for him to approach.

Logan stepped forward, his usual confidence tempered by something more subdued. He stopped a few feet from Yashida, his hands clenched at his sides as he struggled to find the right words.

“Yashida,” he eventually said, addressing the man before him. “It’s been a long time.”

Yashida’s eyes slowly opened, and when they focused on Logan, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Logan,” he rasped, his voice weak but filled with warmth. “You came.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied, his tone softening. “I came.”

Yashida’s gaze shifted to you, and you felt a strange mix of emotions as his eyes, still sharp despite his age, studied you intently. “And who is this?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

“I’m just a friend,” you said, offering him a small, respectful bow. “I’m here to support Logan.”

Yashida’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Thank you for coming,” he said, his tone sincere. “It means a great deal to me.”

Then, another figure entered the room, a young woman with delicate features and a quiet grace that immediately drew your attention. She moved with the fluidity of someone who was used to being in control, but there was a sadness in her eyes that mirrored Yashida’s.

“Mariko,” Yashida said, his voice softening as he spoke her name. “Come, meet Logan.”

Mariko stepped forward, her gaze flicking to Logan with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “Logan,” she said quietly, her voice as soft as the rustling leaves outside. “It’s an honour.”

Logan inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he looked away. “Likewise.”

There was an awkward silence as you stood there, feeling like an outsider in this reunion. You watched the way Mariko looked at Logan, her gaze filled with something you couldn’t quite place—respect, maybe, or perhaps a cautious admiration. Whatever it was, it made your chest tighten with an emotion you weren’t ready to examine.

“Please, sit,” Yashida said, gesturing to the cushions on the floor. “We have much to discuss.”

You sat down beside Logan, feeling the tension in the room build as Yashida began to speak, his words measured and deliberate. He spoke of his time with Logan, of the bond they had shared during the war, and of the gratitude he felt for the life Logan had given him. But there was something else in the way Yashida spoke—an underlying desperation that made you uneasy.

“I have a gift for you, Logan,” Yashida said, his eyes locking onto Logan’s with an intensity that belied his frail appearance. “A gift that will free you from your suffering.”

Logan stiffened beside you, his expression darkening. “I don’t need anything from you, Yashida,” he announced.

“But you do,” Yashida insisted, his tone growing more urgent. “You’ve lived long enough to see the world change, to see those you care about die. I can give you what you’ve always wanted—mortality.”

The room fell silent as Yashida’s words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on you like a physical force. You glanced at Logan, searching his face for any sign of what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable.

“I didn’t come here for this,” Logan said after a long pause. “I came because you asked.”

Yashida’s expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face before he nodded slowly. “Very well,” he said. “But the offer stands. Should you change your mind...”

Logan didn’t respond, his jaw clenched as he stared at the floor. You could feel the tension radiating off him, and it took everything in you not to reach out and touch his arm, to offer some kind of comfort.

----

The air was thick with the scent of incense and the soft murmur of prayers as you stood at Yashida’s funeral, surrounded by mourners dressed in black. The solemnity of the occasion hung heavy, but there was an undercurrent of tension that you couldn’t ignore. Logan was beside you, his expression unreadable, though you knew him well enough by now to sense the unease in his posture.

In that moment, your mind wandered to the days you’d spent in the Yukon, the solitude that had once been your only companion. You hadn’t ended up there by choice. No, you had been running—from a world that feared what it didn’t understand, from people who saw you as a threat. The fact that you were a mutant had always set you apart, but it was also the reason you had been hunted, feared, and ultimately driven into the wild.

You still hadn’t told Logan about your powers, not out of a lack of trust—hiding them had simply become second nature to you. But as you stood at the funeral, watching the proceedings with a growing sense of dread, you realized that your secret was about to come crashing down around you.

It happened so quickly that you barely had time to react. One moment, the funeral was proceeding as expected, and the next, the mourners were scattering in panic as a group of Yakuza thugs stormed the ceremony, their eyes locked on Mariko, Yashida’s granddaughter.

“Mariko!” Logan’s voice was a deep growl as he pushed through the crowd, his adamantium claws shooting out. You sprang into action right behind him, your heart pounding as you watched the Yakuza close in on Mariko. You knew that even though he was fast, Logan wouldn’t make it in to her in time.

Suddenly, the world seemed to slow down, and your instincts took over. Thrusting your hands out, you called for your powers and the air around you responded, swirling with a sudden, powerful gust that sent the Yakuza stumbling back. Logan's head whipped over to you, his eyes widening in shock, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Fire erupted from your fingertips, a controlled burst that seared the ground between Mariko and the attackers, creating a barrier they couldn’t cross. But the attackers didn’t yield, and they regrouped quickly, readying themselves for another assault.

Logan was at your side in an instant. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I—” you faltered, the words catching in your throat as you continued to fend off the enemy. The earth beneath you trembled as you called on your powers again, sending a wave of stone and dirt crashing into the Yakuza, knocking them off their feet.

“I didn’t know how,” you finally admitted tightly, from the strain of maintaining control over the elements.

Logan’s expression was a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper. But he didn’t have time to respond before the Yakuza pressed their attack, forcing both of you to focus on the immediate threat.

Together, you and Logan fought them off, your powers weaving through the chaos as Logan’s claws tore through the ranks of the attackers. It was over in minutes, but it felt like an eternity. When the last of the Yakuza fell, you stood there, breathing hard, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Mariko was safe, but the damage was done. Logan turned to you, his gaze intense. “You didn’t trust me,” he said, the hurt clear in his voice.

“It wasn’t about trust,” you said quietly, lowering your hands as the last remnants of your power faded into the air. “I’ve spent my whole life hiding who I am, Logan. It’s not something I can just turn off.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “I get that,” he finally said, his voice softer now. “But you knew about me––my mutation. I thought—”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” you interrupted, your voice breaking slightly. “It’s just… I didn’t want to bring attention to it. I wanted to leave it in the past.”

Logan’s expression softened, the anger fading as he listened to your words. “You don’t owe me an explanation,” he said after a moment, surprising you. “But I want you to know… I would’ve understood.”

You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. It was strange, how this man who had saved you, who had become your friend, could look at you with such understanding, after you had hid something so important from him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words heavy with the weight of everything you hadn’t said before.

He didn’t say much after, just turning and heading toward Mariko, going to check on her.

----

In the days following the incident at Yashida’s funeral, something between you and Logan shifted. It was subtle at first—an awkwardness that hadn’t been there before, a hesitation in his eyes whenever he looked at you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed, and not for the better.

Logan had started pulling away from you. At first, you thought it was because of Mariko, and his new mission—that he had simply found something else to focus on. But as the days went by, you realized that it was more than that. Logan wasn’t just distant—he was hurt. And it wouldn't take a genius to know why.

He had been wounded by your secret, by the fact that he thought you hadn’t trusted him enough to reveal your powers. You had tried to explain, to make him understand that it wasn’t about him, but the damage was done.

The distance between you pained you. You had grown to care for him deeply. It had started as friendship, a bond forged in Canada, but somewhere along the way, you knew your feelings had begun to change. You hadn’t meant to fall for him, but it happened all the same, creeping up on you like the first rays of dawn after a long, cold night.

But as you watched him pull away from you, and towards Mariko, those feelings felt like a mistake.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Logan to be happy—far from it. You cared about him too much to wish anything but the best for him. Still, seeing the way he looked at her, the way he seemed drawn to her despite the mayhem surrounding them, made something inside you ache. You had thought that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more between you and Logan, but it was clear now that whatever you had shared was truly just a friendship. Nothing more.

And that realization hurt more than you cared to admit.

You tried to push those feelings aside, to focus on the task at hand. There was still so much to do, and Japan was far from safe. The Yakuza were remained a threat, and Yashida’s legacy was more tangled than you had ever imagined. But no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on the helping, your mind kept drifting back to Logan and Mariko.

So, you did the only thing you could—you pulled away. You gave Logan and Mariko space, leaving them to each other whenever possible. It hurt to do it, to step back when all you wanted was to be by Logan’s side, like you’d for months, but you convinced yourself it was for the best. If this was what Logan wanted, if she was who he needed, then who were you to stand in the way?

Even as you distanced yourself, you continued to help them in whatever ways you could. You were still in Japan, still part of the mission Logan got roped into, but you became a shadow, always there but never too close. You helped Mariko when she needed it, fought alongside Logan when necessary, but you never lingered, never gave him a reason to think you wanted anything more.

----

When the trip was over, and the two of you returned back to Canada, things were different. The easy companionship you had shared was strained, the unspoken tension between you making every moment feel heavy with uncertainty. You weren’t sure where you stood with Logan anymore, and it was driving you mad.

He had been quiet since your return, keeping to himself, and you had done the same, unsure of how to bridge the growing distance between you. It hurt, more than you wanted to admit, but you weren’t sure what to do about it.

You had spent the day wandering the snowy landscape, trying to clear your head, but no amount of fresh air could chase away the doubts that had settled in your mind. By the time you returned to the cabin, the sun was beginning to set. You hesitated at the door, your hand hovering over the handle as you debated whether to go inside or keep walking.

Before you could decide, the door swung open, and Logan stood there, his expression unreadable. “You’ve been gone a while,” he said, his voice rough from disuse.

“Just needed some air,” you replied quietly as you stepped inside.

Logan closed the door behind you, his eyes lingering on you for a moment. Then, “We need to talk.”

You nodded, your stomach twisting with anxiety as you followed him to the small living area. You sat on the edge of the worn couch, your hands clasped tightly in your lap as you waited for him to start.

Logan remained standing, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’ve been thinking… about everything that happened in Japan.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “So have I.”

He looked up at you then, “I don’t know how to do this,” is all he could get out.

“I know."

“I’ve been thinking about why things got so messed up between us,” Logan continued, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “And I think… I think it’s because I was hurt that you didn’t tell me about your powers, that you’re a mutant too. I took it personally, and that was wrong.”

You shook your head, “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Logan. I just… I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Logan stepped closer, his hand resting on the back of the couch as he looked down at you. “You didn’t lose me,” he said quietly. “But I think I almost lost you because I didn’t know how to deal with it. That’s why I pulled away. I didn’t want to get hurt, so I put up walls.”

“And Mariko? I mean, it's not like you need to justify anything to me, but--fuck--I...” You started, letting your words drift off. You didn't know where you were going with this, but Logan would have to be a real idiot to not catch on.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and it scared you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

“When we were in Japan… I was hurt. Not just by everything that was happening, but by what I thought was going on between us. I felt like you didn’t trust me, like you were keeping me at arm’s length, and I didn’t know how to handle that. And then there was Mariko… she was there, and I turned to her because… I don’t know, I guess I was looking for something to distract me from what I was feeling.”

You stayed silent, letting him speak.

“But it wasn’t what you think,” he affirmed. “It wasn’t about feelings, or love, or anything like that. Mariko was just… there. I was in a bad place, and she was someone who didn’t expect anything from me, who didn’t know me the way you do. We got physical, but it wasn’t real."

You blinked, trying to make sense of his words. “So, it didn’t mean anything?”

Logan shook his head. “Not the way you’re thinking. I won’t lie to you—it happened, and I’m sorry for that. But it wasn’t because I didn’t care about you,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “It was because I did, and I didn’t know how to deal with my own emotions. I made a mistake, and it hurt you, and I hate that.”

You could see the regret in his eyes, the way he was struggling to find the right words. “I thought you wanted to be with her,” you admitted, “That I was just… in the way.”

He swallowed, “You were never in the way. I pushed you away, and I’m sorry for that.”

You looked up at him. “Where does that leave us then, Logan? Should I… should I stay here? With you?”

Logan’s eyes softened, and he reached out to gently cup your face in his hand. “I want you to stay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But only if that’s what you want too.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch as a wave of relief washed over you. “I want to stay,” you whispered back, your heart pounding in your chest. “I need to know that we’re on the same page though, that this is more than just… friendship.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek. “It is,” he confirmed, “I care about you, more than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. And I want to figure this out, whatever it is between us.”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him with a small, trembling smile. “I want that too.”

Logan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He leaned down, nuzzling his nose with yours as he spoke, an action that nearly had your heart bursting in your chest. “Then let’s do this. No more hiding, no more running. Just us.”

“Just us,” you echoed, happy.

------

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