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moonlight-prose · 3 months ago

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RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 04. FELLED BY YOU

a/n: i've served three chapters of angst and teasing and almosts that never came to fruition. but today is the day! today logan howlett gets fucked. i mean...does the fucking. you know what i mean. there's gonna be some hints of pain, but really he's starting to focus more on getting it right this time around. so be prepared for the filth to come.

summary: the importance of you slammed into him during your two weeks spent apart. yet when he's forced to confront the truth, he finds himself stuck between having you or hurting you.

word count: 9.7k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, wade continues to be the worlds worst wingman, yearning, angst, fluff, flirting heavily, nasty sex, p in v sex, logan gets flashed in a good way, oral (f receiving), reverence and romance, logan is an idiot until he's not, exhibitionsim (kinda if you squint really hard), pain play cause he's a whore, he lifts you cause he's strong like that.

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Time didn't exist in a linear line for him. Never a single point that drew his life from one spot to another. His constant loss of memories and different universes left him numb to the concept as a whole. He found it better to ignore the thought—move past the tragedies that came next quicker than what already happened.

What was time to an immortal man who'd lived through too much already?

What did he have left to lose?

He never found himself counting the minutes, hours, and days before you. To him, they were a jumble of things that only shifted to become one solid fact. A year he'd never get back. Moments he might one day lose. Faces he would one day come to outlive—to see grow old and pass. People he'd never meet again.

He didn't bother with it.

Until he spent a night wrapped around you and fell asleep with no nightmares. He woke up long before you ever would—dawn barely cracking across the night's darkened armor. The clock on your nightstand read five a.m., but his body shouted something different. He wasn't fatigued like every other morning coupled with endless nights of no sleep, dreading the next time he had no choice but to close his eyes.

Logan almost wished he crawled back into the bed in order to watch you be roused from sleep with the beep of your alarm. He should have. At least then he'd be counted as a smart man for not sneaking out and heading home. Even thinking of what came to your mind when you woke up sent pain down his chest.

"Punch buggy!" A gloved fist slammed into his shoulder with enough weight behind it to cause the car to jerk left.

"Fuck!" he growled, slamming his foot on the brake and whipping around to embed his claws in Wade's leg. "Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up!"

"Rules of the highway Log–"

Red splattered against his makeshift yellow suit as he dug his other set of claws into Wade's chest with a roar. In his peripheral vision he caught sight of a small red car whizzing by. The driver laying on the horn with an anger Logan felt at the base of his stomach. Wade pointed to it with a smile in a meager attempt to lighten the mood.

He wouldn't say he was on edge. That would be a pathetic attempt at lying.

He passed edge one week and six days ago. Twenty-four hours after leaving your apartment Logan met the edge of his anger, and flew right off without bothering to keep himself in check. Two weeks without your presence. The sound of your voice, the warmth of your scent. Two weeks of a fucking mission Wade convinced him to go on; with the claim that they'd be back before Friday.

Which wound up extending to yet another five days of being stuck in the back fucking woods of Virginia—stuffed into an already small truck. The rhythmic clunk of the shovels in the bed slamming against the side already had him gritting his teeth. An hour of driving with Wade's game of spotting cars caused him to almost crack his molars.

Logan wasn't a patient man.

He swung first and asked questions later. That was his way of living. Two weeks of counting the seconds as they passed by like molasses only seemed to reaffirm that fact. He knew irony lingered in the truth; an immortal man who held less than an ounce of patience in his body.

There had to be a joke in there somewhere that Wade would no doubt yank out before the end of this trip.

Retracting his claws, he settled back in his seat to glare at the deserted long road ahead of them that seemed to lead nowhere. The car became a prison he couldn't escape an hour ago. And the appeal of trying to kill the man beside him only grew the longer he sat there. Logan already felt like a piece of shit for leaving with no explanation. He didn't need Wade's blood to make it worse.

With a huff he slammed open the car door and got out. The air was hot, stale, and left him choking in the leather suit that already clung to his skin. He tugged at the collar, sucking in air to get his heart to stop racing.

It proved to be difficult when your face distraught with tears began to morph, take shape into the you he couldn't save.

"Something tells me this has nothing to do with not getting to visit pound town before we left." When he was met with a wall of silence, Wade's head fell back with a groan. "Please hold while we deal with another existential crisis guys. He'll get there eventually."

Logan's fingers curled into fists. Wade—relentless as he was—refused to be pushed away this time. He leaned against the car, twirling his baby knife as Logan tried to hold back every ounce of fucking anger that needed an outlet. None of it was pointed at the Merc with a Mouth. Not even the nonsensical comments could penetrate Logan's otherwise silent exterior.

No, Logan knew exactly where the anger was directed. He knew that all of this rage stemmed from his own self loathing. For doing to you what he knew would hurt the most. For doing...exactly what the other you did.

Leaving wouldn't give him the opportunity to run from his pain. Fuck he figured that out a long time ago, but that never stopped him from trying.

He was an old dog with one singular trick. Hurting the ones he loved.

"Just call sweet angel up, say that you're with your old pal Wade, and explain in extreme detail how you'd love to bend her over every surface in that apartment you stare longingly at like you're waiting for her to return from war."

Telling him to shut the fuck up would only incur more bullshit to leave his mouth. Logan chose the easier route and stared into space; focused on the way his heart began to slow the more he thought about that night. How you slept against him without fear. Your hands pressed to his chest, face tucked into his shoulder. Somehow in the span of a few hours you were able to make him feel normal again.

"How much longer do I have to deal with your fuckin' bullshit?"

"One day give or take who drives."

"You're not driving."

Wade shrugged. "Your mistake." With a swift turn, he leapt into the bed of the truck and grabbed the two shovels. "Now give me a smile with those Tony award winning teeth of yours cause we've got work to do."

The endless nothingness of fields and flat ground would eventually drive him insane. One more day didn't sound awful if he knew that you were waiting for him at the end of all this. But that remained the problem he couldn't solve—the nightmare that followed him in his waking world. What if you weren't there? What if that was his final chance and you made the choice for him?

He sighed, squinting his eyes against the sun. "Alright. Give me the damn shovel."

The constant tapping of your boss's pen was going to drive you insane. Although if someone were to ask you, this wasn't the first time in the past two weeks that you were holding onto your temper by the skin of your teeth. In fact, you couldn't recall a time where your body and mind had been this on edge. As if you were a rubber band pulled tight, ready to snap at a moment's notice.

"Three days off?" Her voice remained monotone—grating against your already racing mind.

"Yes," you replied.

The request would go through without issue; you'd been here before, asking the same routine questions. Only this time you felt the unease from that morning begin to work its way through your body. Doubt lay heavy on your heart the more you ran each minute in your mind. Combing over where you might have gone wrong—what would have made him want to leave.

Waking up without Logan wasn't what set you on a path to self-destruction. At first, you were logical enough to assume that he was a busy man; being a superhero and all. He must have a good reason as to why he slipped out of your bed before the sun could fully rise, leaving behind nothing but flowers that now sat dead in a vase, and a brand new door.

Two weeks without a single word—without an explanation or a reason—began to grate on your mind. Pulling at each worry with an intensity that left you winded. Until you were forced to confront the idea that this whole thing...what you and Logan intended to start...wasn't what he had in mind to begin with.

"I'll grant you the days." The slow build of relief flooded your nerves that were already shot to shit. "Just next time you decide to sneak a guest in, please make sure he signs for a visitor's pass."

A familiar wave of discomfort spilled in your chest. Getting caught wasn't on your schedule of things to happen when it came to your job. Then again, having Logan in your life wasn't a part of your plan either. Yet somehow that happened as naturally as taking a deep breath of fresh air.

He didn't step into your life with a stoic aura of peace.

Logan crashed into it head first without a choice.

You remained a gravitational pull, an orbit he couldn't escape from, and without warning he'd been pulled to you. Where he'd exist until it was time for him to be set free.

What remained of your fear—the one thing that kept you from falling wholeheartedly—was that one day Logan might come to the decision all on his own. Without bothering to tell you, or let you in on the secret. That after all that happened...he might want to be set free. If he didn't already.

The walk back to your apartment dragged longer than it should. Your steps were slower, mind entirely distracted from the task at hand, and body aching from lack of sleep. Two weeks without Logan left you questioning why you bothered to pursue him at all. Why had you given him so much freedom to roam in and out of your life? Especially when you'd never done that with any other person before.

You knew the answer.

Logan offered you a chance to live in a way you never thought of before. Fear of the unknown kept you complacent; stuck in your ways. In such a short time he managed to slowly peel away what still remained. The anxiety that lingered in your heart at the thought of being loved—of falling in love.

He shattered your walls without even trying.

Accepting that is what left you struggling to breathe after drowning in what he gave. You were supposed to be the one to lead him out of the dark waters, back to a shore of safety, yet somehow he pulled you right in with him.

That is what kept you right on the edge of whatever this could possibly become.

You wanted to ask him why he left. Dig into his thoughts and pull free your answers. He might give you a fight—knowing what Wade told you about him having a tough exterior—but this wasn't nothing to you. All you wanted was to know that he held the same belief. That this meant something.

Calling his phone never worked—going directly to a voicemail box he never set up. Texting him wasn't an option, and you couldn't exactly write him a handwritten letter to send off without an address of where to go. Which left you here. Stuck in the radio silence and waiting for a response to crack through all the static.

Digging for your keys at the bottom of your work bag nearly caused you to miss the woman standing by your door. Her hair was tied into a messy updo, showcasing the familiar white streaks you'd seen before. Something akin to joy flushed through your body as Vanessa pushed away from the wall—two coffees held in her hands and a paper bag that smelled eerily like bagels tucked into her arm.

"I wonder when I'd see you again," you said, catching her smile as you slid the key into your new lock with ease.

"Blame Wade. He's been keeping me hostage for weeks."

You snorted, tossing your bag and coat on the table. The flowers—now dried and falling to pieces—still remained the centerpiece of your apartment. Petals were scattered along the wood, some now on the floor. But you couldn't find it in yourself to throw them out. You still held out hope that they might bring him back to you, even if he didn't want to return.

"I don't need to know the gory details," you sighed, accepting the tepid coffee and cold bagel. "How long did you wait?"

"Thirty minutes." She fell to your couch with a groan, kicking off her heeled boots. "I figured you were well into the first stage of wallowing and might need someone to drag you out of it."

"I'm not–"

Her eyes fell to the bouquet, lips pursed as if fighting a smile. "And those are from who again?"

"Just because I kept them doesn't mean I'm wallowing." You collapsed beside her, exhaustion withering your body quicker than the sun did with those flowers. "I just haven't cleaned yet."

"Right."

Vanessa had been your friend since Wade moved in across the street and accidentally almost killed you in the middle of the street. She wound up apologizing for him with two bottles of wine and hours of conversation. Even in the midst of their breakup, she still solidified herself in your life with nights of movies and days out in the city. You never thought you'd get a friend out of living here, but somehow life without Ness in it felt bleak.

Which gave her the ability to read you like an open book. She'd seen what you looked like after a breakup—she’d endured countless talking stages with you—and was able to pick out the signs of what your pain looked like.

"He's coming back, you know."

Your heart fluttered at the mere mention of his existence; you silently cursed yourself for it. "Did Wade tell you that?"

She nodded, taking a sip of the shitty cold coffee with a grimace. "I love the man, but he has the worst timing."

"Timing?" You sat up, alert for the first time since waking up alone. "What are you talking about?"

"I figured you didn't know," she sighed. "Logan didn't leave because he wanted to. Trust me I'm pretty sure if given the choice he'd lock both of you in here until we had to call the police." She didn't give you room to interject—even as you started to speak. "He's an X-Man babe. And well Wade—dipshit that he is—decided to drag him on a mission at the worst fucking second."

The words hung in the air for longer than either of you wanted, but your mind was racing a mile a minute. Mission. A fucking mission. How could you have been so quick to jump to conclusions?

You knew who Logan was the second you met. Understood the importance he held. Yet you never pieced together that two weeks of no contact might have meant something entirely different than a breakup.

"He's..."

"On a mission," she replied—lazily biting into her bagel.

"With Wade?"

She spoke around a mouthful of cream cheese. "If he could die, he'd be a goner."

Already the picture was starting to form. Logan stuck for two weeks with a shitty phone that didn't work, constantly bugged by a man who had a mouth that shit talked faster than he could think. He left to try and be the man he wanted people to see him as. The man that still held a legacy in this universe.

You simply forgot to contend with the fact that you weren't just opening your life up to James Howlett...you were making space for the Wolverine too.

"A year's worth of panic just crossed your face. Wanna talk about it?"

What was there left to say? That you'd been an idiot for believing Logan would leave you high and dry? For letting your doubts get the better of you yet again? Or should you explain that for two weeks you felt an emptiness that scared the absolute shit out of you? As if he ripped a hole in your chest with his claws and had no intention of patching it back up.

"Wade told you this himself?"

She stood, heading straight for the vintage cabinet in your living room that held whatever liquor you kept in stock. "More or less. It was hard to hear him over all the screaming in the background."

Somehow her words didn't phase you—even as she continued to speak about the possibility of what they were up to. You caught the words shovel and stole a truck but nothing beyond that. You took the glass of wine without question—mind focused entirely on the man who managed to turn your word on its head in such a short time.

"When do they get back?"

Her lips curved into a smile that told you one thing: I got you right where I want you.

It took no time at all for you to be thinking of the next time you saw him and hiding it from her felt like trying to build a wall with space on the sides. Enough room for her to sneak into your mind and tug out the truth.

"Tomorrow." She took a sip, settled back down beside you, and reached for the remote. "Wade's throwing a party. Your attendance is mandatory."

A second barely passed before your response was spilling free. Excitement now replacing the doubt that willed itself to stay.

"I'll be there."

"Who had money on the great honey badger expedition?" Wade called out to the rather full living room.

You sat curled on the couch beside Vanessa—a red solo cup filled with shitty beer perched on your knee, condensation spilling across your hand. Dopinder was halfway into a story about his first solo job, Colossus was crammed into a small seat, and Logan sat at the table—his eyes a searing burn against the side of your face.

"Shit," Vaness sighed, digging into her front pocket—a twenty slapped into Wade's hand with a kiss.

You gasped. "Traitor."

"I really thought we were gonna win."

"Who did you bet against?" Your eyes caught sight of the cash getting slipped in Althea's hand—her smile cocky enough to give Wade a run for his money. "Of course."

"If it makes you feel better, Wade is done trying to play matchmaker between you two."

You wondered if you said the word bullshit loud enough it would penetrate through Wade's wall of not listening. The temptation was there. Though you decided to remain silent...for Logan's sake.

Since they returned, he barely said more than a few words to you. Them being hello and I tried to call. You both knew the second part was purely fictional, but figured it was easier to remain silent about it. Arguing wasn't something you were keen on doing—given that he had more than enough time to offer an explanation.

Yet he chose to put distance between the two of you. Sitting in sullen silence, a glass of whiskey nursed slowly and eyes latched onto the way you laughed.

He wanted to speak to you. Tell you how often he thought of you—how many times he made a note of something interesting or funny to regale you with once he returned. But the knowledge that you might very well hate him for leaving silently and without a promise of return, put everything to the back of his mind.

Reconciling with you was the first thing he planned to do.

Yet like he did in his own universe, he chose to keep you at arms length. Away from the insanity of his volatile emotions and dangerous demeanor. You were too good; too breakable.

"Fox and friends!" Wade's voice dragged his attention away from you. Even mere feet away Logan felt you right down to his fucking bones. "I have a special surprise for you heathens. Yeah that's right I'm looking at you Sugar Bear."

A hand gripped Logan's shirt, dragging him up from the chair as he struggled not to slam his fist into Wade's throat. "We're gonna play a little game I like to call Forty Five Minutes In The Closet. I'll pick two people and they'll have to hide the two hundred and seventh bone in the human body."

"It's called seven minutes in heaven. Dumbass," Al muttered.

"No. No, that's something else."

Logan felt the hair rise on the back of his neck at the sight of your smile. How you lit up at Wade's humor. You wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, yet he couldn't place a time where you looked more beautiful. If it weren't for the grip Wade had on his shoulder, he'd be asking you to meet him in the hallway—an apology already set on the tip of his tongue.

"Anyways!" Wade shook him violently—knowing that if Logan met his irritation with violence he'd have another problem to worry about. "I nominate this broad shouldered—thick muscled—thunder cunt from down under cunt to be our first contestant."

His eyes flicked to the side, lips curving into a smirk that could only be categorized as diabolical. "Drink some water girls cause things are about to get good."

Vanessa smiled, yanking your arm into the air without warning. "I nominate her to go with him."

"That's right you do baby!" Wade shouted.

"No," Logan growled, yanking his arm away from Wade.

Only to catch how your face fell. You tried to mask it with a laugh, but he could see the damage was done. All the doubts that you fought against began to slowly rise to the surface; each moment spent with him now a time you wanted to get back. But like a trooper, you stood with a glare in Vanessa's direction, and walked towards the hall closet barely big enough for two coats and a broom.

"Go go," Wade shoved him (violently) in your direction, and held the door for Logan to squeeze in beside you. "Now some ground rules. The walls are paper thin so if you end up dancing the Devil's Tango, we'll be making popcorn to go along with the show. Oh and any procreations that come out of this automatically get named Wade."

"You're disgusting," Logan snarled.

"Wade I don't think–"

You heard a loud have fun from everyone outside before the door slammed shut. Darkness swallowed the both of you whole. Yet you felt how close he stood even with your eyes still trained on the door. Heat radiated off his body in waves, soaking into yours with ease. His breath came in quick but released slowly as if he was trying his best to keep his temper steady.

At this point blaming him for losing it wasn't an option. Not when you never expected the night to wind up like this.

You sucked in a deep breath, hands shaking when your heart began to race. You tried to appease every improper thought that entered your mind, but failed spectacularly as they kept on coming. Another sharp inhale echoed mere inches away—his body tensing as your scent deepened. Calling to him like a siren song he needed to answer.

"Stop that," he ground out, fingers curling into fists to keep himself apart from you.

Your eyes met his searing gaze even in the pitch black. "I'm not doing anything."

"You're not. But your body is." He huffed, feeling his willpower begin to splinter when your heart jumped. "How long do we have to...ya know..."

It took you a minute to realize that Logan was suddenly bashful. The urge to reach for a flashlight to see the red that most likely tinted the top of his ears reared its head. You would have done it if it weren't for the way his entire body flinched. His back now pushed against the wall furthest from you.

"Seven minutes," you murmured. "Are you okay?"

"'M fine."

You'd never seen him this on edge before. So close to snapping.

Perhaps it was the way he reacted whilst in your vicinity, or the fact that this was the most he'd said to you in twenty four hours. But the doubt you harbored for two weeks slowly began to shift into a wave of anger. One that demanded at least one final answer as to what you were doing here. What this meant to him.

You wouldn't continue pining after a man who couldn't give it to you straight; not after you gave him so much.

"At least now I can ask you what's going on."

He stiffened, his head snapping up to see your face begin to shift—your tone sharper than before. "What?"

"You heard me Howlett." His lips twitched at the sound of his last name. You fought the urge to land a punch to his jaw he'd barely. "Two weeks of no contact. You gave me nothing. And I was fine with it because I knew you were with Wade, but this? Avoiding me so you don't have to give me a reason as to why?"

"Honey–"

Your eyes narrowed, shutting him up quicker than he expected. "I'm not done talking." Another deep breath set off the last of your rant. "If you don't want to continue whatever this is then that's fine. I've moved on from guys like you before. I can do it again. But now you don't even want to be near me. I don't know what I did to make you–"

The step he took came unexpectedly. As did the next and the next until you were pinned to the wall behind you—his hands on either side of your head. Whatever fight you had left in your system fizzled out when his head dipped and lips slid down the side of your neck. Kissing gently at the vein he longed to sink his teeth into.

"Logan," you gasped, tilting your entire body his way. The reaction was involuntary. As if he possessed you in ways you never expected.

The smile he pressed to your cheek told you he liked it.

"That's what you think huh bub? That I don't wanna be near you?"

"Y-Yes..."

He chuckled. "I just spent two fuckin' weeks in a car with that walking mouth. You think I went of my own free will?" The breath that ghosted along your cheek caused your whole body to shiver. "'M stayin' away honey cause if I get too close I'm gonna do things to you that you aren't ready for."

A fire began to unfurl in the base of your stomach, rapidly coursing through your body without a single warning. He let it happen. He held you there, lips so close you could taste his whiskey on the tip of your tongue, and waited for you to speak. Waited for you to make your final choice about him.

"And if I am?" Your fingers curled into his shirt, chin lifting in a show of defiance. "Ready?"

He groaned at the sight of your fire coming back, his forehead falling to press against yours. "Don't say shit you don't mean."

"I do mean it."

Logan felt his entire body crumple as the familiar sound of his claws echoed in the small space—dust from the now split wall dropping onto your clothes. He could hear Wade's shout of disdain through the already thin walls. But his sole focus was on the way your breath quickened, how your fingers dug beneath his flannel and onto his thin beater.

"What do you want from me honey? Say it. I'll fuckin’ do anything."

The echo of your breathy whine fucked him up for good; ruined any chance of sanity for the rest of the night. If the closet wasn't so damn small he'd grind you along his thigh to watch your mouth go slack. He'd drop to his knees to taste you and drag you over the edge again and again without any intention of stopping.

"I want an apology," you replied, shaking him loose from the haze of lust he found himself stuck in.

His lips curled into a smile. "That right?"

You nodded, fighting against everything in you that screamed to keep this going. To let him kiss you senseless and fuck you against the wall. You didn't care that you were still in Wade's apartment, you didn't care that you were probably down to four minutes and a handful of seconds.

This felt pivotal to the shaky ground you both balanced on. And you were desperate to see what became of the mess that would no doubt come crashing down around you.

"You left." The words were a high gasp as his hand splayed against your stomach. "I-I missed you."

A rumble echoed from the bottom of his chest. "Yeah bub? Ya missed me?"

The words were on the back of your tongue, an explanation on just how much you ached for him. How nights without hearing his voice left you battling demons you usually kept at bay. But his hand was rucking up the bottom of your shirt and the heat of his calloused palm was against bare skin. Dipping lower as your mouth dropped open.

"You got no idea," he growled, lips so close to yours it caused your heart to scream. "How much I fuckin' thought of you. Of this." Fingers slipped beneath the top of your jeans and your head fell back against the wall. "Thought about how sweet you'd taste for me."

"L-Logan–"

He smiled. "Let me give you a proper fuckin' apology."

Echoes of laughter filtered through the already thin door as someone (most likely Wade) told yet another joke. At any other time you would dig up the last strand of your common sense and put an end to Logan's movements. Any other time you'd have enough coherency to understand that if you got caught neither of you would live this down.

Any other time that would have been the first thing on your mind.

But Logan's fingers brushed the edge of your navy blue laced underwear, effectively killing every thought in your head before it could fully form. Your hips canted up into his touch, fingers burying in his hair to tug his face closer. He felt too far even as he pressed you against the cold wall—his body emanating enough heat to have you gasping for air.

"I can smell it," he rasped. "Drivin' me insane honey."

A moan climbed up your throat, but he silenced you easily. His lips found yours in the darkness and you felt your heart cry at knowing he was back. That he wanted you.

You clung to him, tongue meeting his in a messy reunion. All teeth and quick stunted breaths and spit you felt cling to your joined lips. You swallowed his groan with a soft whine of your own. His hand dipped one inch further, fingers prodding against your patch of hair, and you felt your stomach clench.

"Oh–" Your gasp was sharp, loud enough for Logan to cringe as it echoed in the small space.

That didn't stop his fingers from sliding through your slick with a stunted moan. His lips a hot press against your cheek—body caging you into the drywall.

"Gotta be quiet," he whispered.

"S-Sorry–" You dug your teeth into your lip hard enough to taste copper. All in the hopes that it would silence every sound that was desperate to be set free. With the curl of his fingers he struck against your clit in rough strokes, dooming you to the shame that would no doubt come once the both of you stepped out of this closet. "Ah!"

His lips slammed against yours, tongue plunging into your already gaping mouth. He tasted like whiskey. Like everything you longed for in the past two weeks.

Your heart clenched in your chest as he upped the pace of his fingers—the wet echo of your slick now bouncing off the walls. A tremble began to form in your legs and you tugged on his hair to signal what was about to come. But Logan remained one step ahead of you.

He smiled, ignoring the aching throb of his cock as he coaxed you towards a quick and blinding release. One he would replay in his mind for the rest of the night. He knew Wade probably stood outside the door with his ear pressed to the wood, but found he didn't mind. Because you were in his arms, with your lips against his in a dazed kiss, and he had never felt such bliss before.

"C'mon honey. Lemme see you."

"'M almost there," you breathed, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted.

He wanted to eat you alive.

"I know you are. Can feel you leakin' on my hand." His teeth scraped against the shell of your ear, hips grinding along your thigh for some relief. "Let go so I can fuckin' taste you."

A blinding heat began to build faster than you had time to latch onto it; his fingers now tapping roughly against your pulsing clit. You reached for it, let that feeling begin to consume you. Only for something heavy to slam against the closet door—startling the both of you.

Logan ripped his hand away, his body stumbling to the opposite wall. He looked flushed. As if you were the one about to rip a mind numbing orgasm out of his body. Not the other way around.

You coughed, fixing your shirt and jeans as the door swung open. Wade's cocky smile told you everything you needed to know. Being subtle and playing this off was no longer an option, because he knew what you were up to. He could read it on your face.

"What ya thinkin' about?"

"Wilson–" Logan growled, moving to stand in front of you—his claws itching to slide free and dig into Wade's super-healing flesh.

"Wasn't talking to you peanut." He peeked over Logan's shoulder, his smile big and bright and glaringly obvious. "Don't tell me. You two were also debating the logistics of bringing back Robert Downey Jr. to the MCU."

"Shut your goddamn–"

"Because I think it's a money grab. I mean come on Iron Man? Again?"

Logan began to reach for his neck, but your hands pressing to his waist forced him to freeze. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder with a laugh as you squeezed past the both of them. He felt his heart twist in his chest tight enough to send pain down his spine.

Wade still smiled like an all knowing asshole, but the sight of you joining Vanessa on the couch with a sheepish smile eased the nerves that still jumped under his skin.

"Not another word," he spit, shoving a finger into Wade's chest to force him back a few feet.

The man merely smiled—eyes flicking down to the glaringly obvious bulge in Logan's jeans. "Don't tell me. Whiskey dick again? I've told you it's common–"

His claws came free with a roar. Wade's familiar shriek now echoing through the apartment as he sprinted towards your spot on the couch. In the hopes that you might be able to tame the animal intent on ripping him to shreds.

He could count on one hand how often silence echoed throughout the apartment at night. Each time being when Wade disappeared to Vanessa's place with the intent of returning well past the afternoon. Trash still lingered here and there after the small party, but he ignored it in favor of pouring another glass of whiskey.

Falling to the couch with a groan, he felt the weariness of two weeks with Wade on the road resurface in his body. Eventually he'd will himself to sleep. Still plagued by nightmare after nightmare. Except his mind was stuck on the thought of the closet. How you arched into his body with a whine, how wet you were for him in such a short span of time.

There was something addicting about seeing you confront him with your anger. All the fire you kept locked away suddenly became the sole focus of your energy and Logan found he couldn't get enough.

An hour after you were walked home by Vanessa (Wade in tow behind her), he still could smell you on his fingers. The way your scent clung to his shirt when you were up against him. How you moaned for him. So pretty and willing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd sported a hardon for longer than an hour; yet in your presence they always seemed to fucking happen.

The whiskey kept his mind settled on the present moment. On Althea's snores in the background and the city noise that spilled in through the open window. If he was lucky, he'd get twenty minutes in a hot shower with his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

That alone kept him from passing out on the shitty couch—his mind hazy and drunk on lust.

A beep from his now charged phone drew his attention to your window across the street. The light was on. So he knew you were awake. But the sight of you walking out into your living room—a black robe wrapped around your body—had him sitting up straight. He reached for the device, flipping it open to see your name flash across the small screen.

Logan couldn't even remember pressing answer. All he knew was that your voice filled his ear seconds later.

"Hi," you said, tone breathy and high. Flashes of you from earlier began to enter his mind.

"Thought you went to sleep honey."

You smiled, pushing the window open—your phone tucked between your cheek and shoulder. "I tried."

"Nightmares?"

"No," you sighed. "Something else."

The feeling from earlier began to lick at his veins again, smoldering beneath the surface of his skin. "Yeah?" You nodded. "What is it?"

The sharp inhale of breath gave him a clear and straight answer. One that had him spreading his legs a bit wider on the couch—eyes fixed on the way you fidgeted with your hands. He wasn't able to get you off earlier; just barely on the precipice of an orgasm before you were rudely interrupted. And though you wouldn't say it out loud, he knew you still felt the remnant of an ongoing fire.

"Wade was kind of an asshole earlier about it," you mumbled.

Logan had never seen you this shy before. He wanted to sear the sight into his mind.

He chuckled, low and raspy; you felt it in your stomach. "He's usually that way."

"He got in the middle of us," you sighed.

"He did." Logan leaned forward, elbows braced on his thighs, and watched as you stepped a bit closer to the window. "What about it honey?"

"Well–" Your fingers toyed with the tie of your robe, eyes glued to the way he got to his feet and moved towards the glass. "My door is unlocked."

The robe dropped to the ground with a soft flutter and Logan's mouth went dry. You stood bare before him, the phone clutched in your hand—determination on your face. He felt every part of his body scream at the sight of your skin—your breasts and cunt—presented to him this way. You were a marble statue straight out of a museum and he wasn't worthy of even getting a mere glimpse.

Your heart hammered in your chest at the sight of his claws coming free—a growl ripping through the phone line. He looked starving. Practically feral at the sight of you like this. You'd never wanted a man to devour you this way before; as if you were the meal to be served up on a silver platter.

Cold air seeped in through your open window, tightening your nipples, and Logan clutched the side of his window frame hard enough for the wood to crack. Your scent lingered in his nose—driving him past the brink of sanity.

"Don't fuckin' move," he snarled, slamming the phone shut in his large palm and heading straight for his door.

Counting the seconds, you remained stuck on the sight of his now empty apartment. People milled along the street down below—the late night goers that headed towards the subway entrance. You only hoped that no one bothered to look up. Or else they'd see you naked and standing before an open window.

Five minutes barely passed before your door was being shoved open, his boots a loud echo in the stark silence of your apartment. You turned—gasping at the sight of him disheveled and panting. His claws slid back as he shut the door with a soft thud that felt like a gun going off. Whatever words you wanted to say—explanations you longed to give for your behavior—died the second he walked towards you. Intent painted blatantly on his face.

Meeting him halfway, you collided against his body with a breathless kiss. Your fingers clung to his back as his hands gripped your bare thighs and hoisted you up. He stumbled forward, slamming you softly against the nearest wall, and took your mouth with a possession you'd never experienced before.

Logan kissed you with a heady fervor that left you dizzy. After so long, the aching need for you began to ebb into a madness that swallowed him whole.

One that demanded to be felt in its entirety.

"I'm sorry," he gasped against your lips, tongue licking along your teeth. "For leaving."

"Logan–"

He shook his head, gripping the back of your neck to draw you in for another kiss. "'M never leaving you again honey. Got that?"

With a nod, you pulled him back—tasting the remnants of whiskey and a cigar he must have smoked after you left. He growled into you, hips chasing your dripping cunt as it slid along the crotch of his jeans. Soaking him before he could even get a chance to taste.

There was no denying what this would lead towards. What those days of conversations and quick glances would amount to when the tension finally broke. Logan expected to be left with the fragments of a broken relationship that never was. You were adamant on making it become more.

"I want–" You pulled away with a sharp gasp, his lips slotting against your neck—working down the skin with gentle bites. "Want you inside me."

His forehead pressed to your shoulder, a groan ripping from his chest. "Fuck."

Your lips connected to his neck when he began to walk, teeth sinking into the veins that ran down into his shirt. Logan had to struggle to keep his feet straight—his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass. He couldn't figure out how he managed to have such a stroke of luck. What occurred for him to have you in his arms, naked and wanton and grinding against his leaking cock that smeared inside his jeans.

A soft moan was pressed to his ear when he dragged your hips along his. The final steps into your bedroom now turning into a race to get you spread beneath him. To finally have you in ways that left him worried for his own psyche.

"Driving me fuckin' insane honey," he bit out against your ear, dropping you onto the soft mattress.

You smiled—eyes dark and shining with a cloud of lust. "So are you." Your fingers tugged at the bottom of his shirt. "I've been wanting you to touch me for weeks."

He wasn't going to fucking last.

Yanking off his shirt, he let both of them fall to your floor—giving you free reign to drink in the sight of him above you. The soft touch of your fingers trailed down his arms, tracing the veins in fascination. Your lips parted, chest rising and falling with each quick breath, and Logan felt the strings holding his self control in place snap.

He dipped down, sucking your peaked nipple into his mouth with a groan.

"F-Fuck," you sighed, nails digging into his shoulders so hard he felt his skin rip before it healed over. His cock jumped with the pain—hands fisting your soft comforter to keep himself stable.

"Do that again."

He caught a glimpse of your fucked out smile before your fingers were digging into his back, scratching lines across his skin. A loud moan slipped past his lips as he worked his way down your body. Lips trailing along your stomach—teeth sinking into your hips so hard it would hurt tomorrow. And you scratched line after line into his skin.

Adamant on leaving a mark that might stay till the morning.

"I didn't get to taste you," he murmured, hands moving to spread your soft and supple thighs.

"The closet was too small—oh–"

His nose pressed to your mound, inhaling the scent that drove him feral for weeks on end. Logan was fully aware how animalistic he turned the second his eyes landed on your glistening cunt. He wouldn't be surprised if drool began to slip from his mouth at such a pretty sight.

"Fuckin' gorgeous."

Hazel eyes darkened at the sight of you clenching around nothing—your hand delving into his already mussed hair. No response existed when he looked at you like this. When his thumbs spread you obscenely with a hoarse groan.

"Logan," you mewled.

Trying to form a coherent word flew out of your mind, his touch all you could focus on. A sharp cry fell past your lips when his mouth sealed over your cunt. Tongue flicking your clit and thumb sliding between your dripping folds.

Your legs were hitched to his shoulders, body bent upwards as he ate you like his last meal. His eyes fluttered shut with a moan and he sucked at your clit, rolling it along the tip of his tongue. Sounds you'd never heard before ripped from your chest, your fingers scrambling to grab onto his arms. To find an anchor in the dizzying pleasure he dragged you towards.

The simmering heat from hours before rose up in your body quicker than you expected. Reminding you that he'd already brought you to the edge once.

This time wouldn't take long at all.

He groaned, two fingers prodding at your entrance, and buried his tongue between your folds. The wet sound of his mouth sent a flare of need through your chest—drawing your lungs tight and near the precipice of pain. Breath became nonexistent as he lapped at you—his fingers sinking right down to the knuckle. You clawed at his skin, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Fuck–" Rough pads curled along your walls, striking against a spot you'd never reached on your own. It tore a cry from you, your legs now a trembling mess over his shoulders.

But he kept going. Ate you without stopping. As if breathing was secondary to the taste of you spread on his tongue.

"I-I'm gonna—fuck Logan!"

A growl was mumbled into your cunt, eyes now sharp and focused on your face as it screwed up in pleasure. The echo of your slick filled your ears, his fingers pumping into you and mouth drinking down everything you gave him. It all became too much. Until something bright and searing began to unfold in your body.

His teeth scraped your clit with another rumbled sound, and whatever remained to hold you together snapped. A sob of his name was yanked from your throat, fingers gripping at his hair to keep him still as you grinded against his tongue. And he collapsed onto the mattress, hips pushing into the bed while you used him.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes when the final dregs of your release began to seep from your body. Even while his tongue continued to lap at you—roughly moaning at the taste of you leaking into his eager mouth.

"Wait," you sucked in a breath, hand pressed to his head to keep him at bay when pain sparked through your body. "T-Too much."

His lips curled into a smile, canines on display and mouth shiny with your slick. "'M gonna do that again." Your eyes widened in protest, only for him to get to his feet. "But first honey. I'm gonna fuck you."

The flame sparked to life again, slowly simmering at the base of your stomach. You met him halfway, crawling to your knees to reach for his belt buckle. Lips sliding against his in a messy kiss as he shared your taste, licked it into your mouth with a sigh. It wasn't until your hand dipped into his jeans that he stopped you—his eyebrows pulled together and lips swollen.

"Hold on."

"What's wrong?" you murmured, kissing his chest and biting at the muscle.

"Not—ha—" His hand gripped your ass at the feeling of you tugging at his jeans; your fingers slipping down to cup him gently. "Not gonna last very long if you do that bub."

You grinned. "It's only fair. After you got to taste me...James."

"Shit." A hand on your throat dragged you back to his lips, to the hot slide of his tongue along yours. "Later. I'll let ya do whatever the fuck you want with me later."

Oh how you liked the sound of that. Images of getting him beneath you, of his head tipped back in pleasure, filled your mind. They begged you to make it reality.

Logan however had other plans.

"But I want to suck you off," you pouted.

He felt his cock leak down your hand, the pearly precum now spread along your thumb that rubbed at his vein. Weeks of starving for you left him an impatient man. Yet something told him you saw it clearly in the way his whole body tensed. His fingers digging sharply into any part of you he could reach.

Reaching for your leg he hooked it around his waist and knelt on the bed—his jeans and boots in a heap on the floor. Your lips never strayed far from his, fingers dancing along his bare back—feeling the muscles shift beneath hot skin. He wanted to lay you out beneath him, but the need for more began to eat at both your hearts.

This wasn't a quick and fast fuck. He wouldn't leave in the morning with no notice. No, Logan knew that when it came time for the sun to rise in the sky, he'd be back between your thighs with a sated smile on his face.

"Gimme a second honey," he panted, gently removing your hand from his cock. "Don't want to fuck this up."

You laughed, nuzzling his cheek as he dragged his head through your folds. "You won't baby."

The word slipped off your tongue with ease, but he felt like a shot had just gone through his chest. Somewhere between the two weeks spent apart and getting you like this—wrapped around him entirely at peace—Logan made a choice. He understood what this meant. He knew that you weren't temporary.

Perhaps it was stupid of him to dive in so quickly. Perhaps you’d regret this choice in a month or two. But he was tired of hiding from a past version of himself that continued to haunt his waking life.

He wasn't going to be the man who ran.

He would forever remain the man who stayed.

Your face contorted the second he began to slip into your dripping cunt—fingers sharply digging into his shoulders as he stretched you slowly. Teeth sunk into your bottom lip before your head fell back—a guttural moan pulling from your throat at the feel of him.

"Big," you rasped, hips canting down to help him.

White flashed behind his eyes when you clenched, a broken grunt pressed to your chest. "You can take it for me."

"I–" Another short thrust had him slipping into you with a sigh of your name. "O-Oh fuck."

He felt his claws bite at the skin of his knuckles, his teeth now a sharp prick at the top of your breast, as you settled into his lap. Sitting on his cock with a garbled shout of his name. His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face back to his, and Logan could feel the pull of his orgasm draw tight in his body at the sight of you entirely fucked out.

"You with me?"

Lips curled into a soft smile, your eyes fluttering open. "Feels like you're in my chest," you mumbled.

Pride bloomed in his stomach, mixing with the heat that ate him alive. "Yeah?"

No answer was given because you'd decided it was time to move with a shift of your hips. He let you take the lead, giving what you could take and pulling back when your face screwed up in pain. He wasn't a small man—that he understood plainly. But the sight of you grinding along his lap, fucking yourself on his cock, had him nearly begging for more.

You gripped his shoulders, clambered to your knees, and sunk down on him again in one swift plunge. Logan choked on his spit the second you started to ride him in earnest. Sinking down on him in short repeated thrusts, you found his lips in a kiss that melted away into a mess of teeth.

"So fuckin' perfect." He gripped at your hips, pulling you down on his red and aching cock. "Takin' me like you were made for it honey."

A whimper met his ears at the slight shift in angle—the head of his cock now pounding against the spongy part of your walls. He grinned at the sound, helping you move just a bit quicker in order to chase the high that built rapidly in your body.

"You were made to fuckin' take it huh?"

You nodded, eyes bleary with tears. "Uh huh," you sighed.

"Made to fuck my cock," he growled. "To cum on it."

"L-Logan–" you whined, thighs shaking with the effort of riding him. He noticed seconds before you did.

"I know baby," he cooed, pushing you back onto the bed and sinking into you with a sharp thrust that sent his name careening from your mouth. "'S too much for you."

Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he claimed your lips in a final kiss before setting a pace that had you clawing at his shoulders. It was almost punishing how good he fucked you. His hips pounded into yours, the repetitive slap of skin against skin now louder than your combined moans.

You felt the string begin to draw tight again, pulling at each muscle and tendon in your body. The walls of your cunt clamped down tight, drawing him in as your hands braced against his chest—your eyes rolling back at the feel of his body dragging against yours.

"There we go," he grunted, fingers sliding through your slickened mess to rub at your clit in small rough circles. "C'mon bub. Fuckin' cum on it yeah?"

"Ah!" Fighting for breath, you felt your entire body break as bliss flooded your system.

The scream of his name pierced his eardrums and Logan swore he felt his soul snap in half at the sight of you so lost in your pleasure. Chasing his own high, he bracketed his arms against your head, his claws now scratching at the wood of your headboard as he fucked into your pulsing cunt. The feel of your hand on his back, your lips against his jaw, sent him flying off behind you.

A rough snarl tore from his mouth as he came, burying himself deep enough to send pain down your thighs. The warmth of him spurting into you sent another flare of heat down your spine, sating whatever unconscious need you harbored to have him this way.

His head dropped to your chest, claws embedded in your now ruined pillow, as his cock began to soften. Your bodies reaching a level of comfort that hadn't been there before.

You ran a hand through his hair, toying with the locks as your eyes fell shut and legs moved to wrap around his hips. It shocked you how much you longed to remain like this. Pressed against his naked body with sleep lingering on the edges of your mind. You nearly asked if he felt the same, but the contented sigh that brushed against your breast gave you the answer you wanted.

"We're doing that again," he mumbled, kissing at your still hard nipple.

"Soon hopefully," you smiled.

"Mm." His cock stirred to life slowly, sending a wave of surprise down your spine. "Careful what you wish for bub."

"At least let me get some water," you mumbled, drawing his face back to yours—thumb running along his cheek. "Then you can–"

Your eyes flew open at the sound of something blasting from across the street. Logan turned with an irritated grunt as a song began to filter through your open living room window. One that you recognized instantly as WHAM!. Careless Whisper if you were shooting for accuracy.

Logan groaned, dropped his face to the crook of your neck. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill him."

A shout bounced off the buildings, Wade's voice suddenly louder than the song. "That's what I'm talking about honey badger! Al give me back my fucking twenty!"

You laughed, trying to listen to what else he said, even as Logan began to kiss a trail down your shoulder. His mind focused on far more important things than his fucking roommate. The song continued to play, Wade singing along horribly, and you suddenly felt your future encompass you with a warm smile.

A life of joy, of passion, of family.

Sinking into his touch with a sigh, you let the worry fall from you in layers. The promise of this, no longer a fantasy.

note: they finally fucked y'all! if you finished all of this then i love you. drink some water per wade's words from earlier.

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #my writing

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austinbutlerslovers · 2 months ago

Text

The Good Girl

Label Mature 18+

One Shot

Summary Shy timid and sweet by nature you have trouble adjusting to the real world until a fateful chain of events compels you to do something a good girl would never dream of.

Heading from Michigan state back to Wisconsin for spring break you get stranded in a downpour with your roommate on the out skirts of Chicago.

Luckily for you there’s a bar nearby to seek help where you meet a handsome stranger who blurs the lines between right and wrong, until you find yourself drawn into a wild night of passion.

⚠️ Hardcore Smut ⚠️ dubcon •coercion • inexperience •shyness •corruption •age gap• power play• overstimulation •fingering •nipple play•teasing• size kink • orgasms • protection

Inspo two requests similar theme for Benny ☺️ age gap +innocent reader + smut (obsessed so I combined them 💞) enjoy *Special thanks @thejoywillburnoutthepain

The Good Girl

You and your friend, Darlene, have been driving for hours when you finally reach the mile marker for Chicago. The relentless downpour makes it nearly impossible to see through the windshield.

The wipers work frantically, but the rain falls faster than they can clear it and Darlene’s brows furrow as she concentrates on the road.

The two of you are heading back to Wisconsin for spring break from Michigan State University. You had only been at the university for a few months, and everything still felt new and overwhelming.

The campus was massive, and you, timid and shy, had found it hard to fit in right away. Meeting Darlene had been a stroke of luck.

She is confident and outgoing with a knack for effortlessly making friends—fun in a way that draws everyone in. You, on the other hand, are shy and strait-laced, always playing the good girl, the one who follows the rules unsure how to step out of your comfort zone.

While Darlene charges into life without hesitation, you tend to observe, fading into the background, content in your quieter world. But somehow, despite your differences, you’ve become inseparable.

When you first moved into the dorms, you had been so nervous about sharing a room with someone. The thought of spending months with a complete stranger had filled you with anxiety, but Darlene quickly eased your worries.

From the moment she introduced herself, she had a way of making you feel comfortable. It helped that she was also from Wisconsin, and the two of you bonded quickly over the familiar feeling of home.

Darlene was everything you weren’t—bold, loud, and always up for a good time. She had quickly become the center of your small social circle, and while you were still adjusting to university life, you admired how easily she navigated it.

Always quieter and more reserved, you were happy to let her take the lead in most things, and Darlene didn’t seem to mind your shyness one bit. If anything, Darlene had made it her mission to pull you out of your shell.

She’d coax you into doing things you’d never dream of, flashing that infectious smile that made it impossible to say no.

Whether it was dragging you to social events or encouraging you to take risks, Darlene seemed to thrive on challenging the boundaries you set for yourself always making sure it was in a way that made you feel a little spark of confidence.

As she drives through the storm, you can’t help but feel a little more at ease with her behind the wheel. Even though she plays around a lot, she’s focused now, her hands steady as the car moves cautiously along the rain-soaked highway.

“You alright over there?” Darlene asks, glancing at you for a second before returning her eyes to the road.

“Yeah,” you reply quietly, your hands resting nervously in your lap. “Just… this weather is pretty bad.”

Darlene chuckles, her confidence unwavering. “Don’t worry, it’s just a little rain,” she says, and though the intensity of the downpour would make most people nervous, she stays calm and upbeat.

You can’t help but smile a little. Even though you’re shy and still adjusting to this new chapter of your life, Darlene has a way of making you feel like everything will be okay. For someone like you, who’s always been more cautious and hesitant, having her around feels like a safety net.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never had a boyfriend,” Darlene teases, glancing over at you with a mischievous grin, trying to keep the mood light despite the weather.

You blush, feeling self-conscious. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it,” you mutter, looking down at your hands in your lap. “I just… I don’t know. I’ve never met the right guy.”

Darlene laughs lightly, shaking her head. “You’ve gotta stop waiting for some prince charming to show up on a white horse. Sometimes you just gotta go for it.”

You smile softly, fiddling with the edge of your dress. “Maybe. But I don’t want to rush into something just to say I’ve had a boyfriend.”

Darlene rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re too sweet for this world, I swear.”

Just as she says that, the car begins to sputter. Darlene frowns, glancing down at the dashboard. “That’s not good,” she says, concern flickering in her voice.

Before you can ask what’s happening, the engine stalls completely. The car coasts to a slow stop on the side of the road, the rain pounding relentlessly against the roof.

“Oh, great,” Darlene groans, slumping back in her seat. “What now?”

You both sit in silence for a moment, the sound of the rain and the dead silence of the car making it clear you’re stuck.

“What do we do?” you ask, glancing around at the empty, rain-soaked road.

Darlene sighs. “I don’t know, but we can’t sit here forever. Maybe there’s something up ahead.”

Squinting through the rain, you spot a faint neon sign flickering in the distance. “Hey, look,” you say, pointing. “There’s a bar up there. Maybe we can get some help?”

Darlene turns to see the sign and nods quickly. “It’s worth a shot. Let’s go.”

Without a jacket or umbrella, you and Darlene step out into the pouring rain. Within moments, you’re completely soaked, the rain drenching your clothes and hair. You hurry toward the bar, the neon sign glowing brighter as you approach.

When you finally reach the doors and step inside, the warmth of the bar wraps around you, and you let out a relieved sigh. The room is filled with low chatter and the sound of pool balls clacking together.

Every male patron glances up, momentarily caught off guard by your appearance as you and Darlene enter, dripping wet from the rain.

One in particular, catches your eye—he’s leaning over the pool table, his muscular arms exposed in a sleeveless tee, a cue stick resting in his hand. His sandy brown hair is tousled lightly and his striking blue eyes immediately lock onto yours as his full lips curve into a knowing smile.

You’ve never seen a man like him before—so rugged, so effortlessly confident. His eyes seem to hold you in place, like he can see through every layer of you, and your cheeks burn, suddenly realizing your dress is clinging to your form.

A wave of nerves and excitement washes over you as and you quickly look away, feeling flustered as your hands fidget nervously pulling down the hem of your soaked dress.

You can still feel his eyes on you, the heat rushing to your face, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop yourself as you sneak another glance at him.

He sets his cue stick down, the game long forgotten as he starts walking your way. His friend follows his gaze, pausing mid-shot, but all you can focus on is him. Your mind is a blur of emotions as he approaches, and you struggle to compose yourself.

“You’re gonna catch a chill like that,” he says, his voice deep and warm, his eyes never leaving yours. “What happened to you?”

Your words stick in your throat, and you try to speak, but only a few soft breaths escape. You take in how tall he is, your eyes flicking over the strength of his muscles before managing to lock eyes with him again. Up close, he’s even more gorgeous, and your heart skips a beat.

Darlene notices the effect he has on you and grins, stepping in to lead the conversation.

“Our car stalled,” she explains, glancing at you, clearly amused by how dumbstruck you are staring at him. “We don’t know why it happened, but it’s up the road. I’m Darlene by the way and this shy one here is—“

She nudges you to introduces yourself and when you tell him your name it’s barely more than a whisper as you look up at him still caught in a daze.

“I’m Benny,” he says, his expression softening, his gaze lingering on you. “I’ll get you some help,” and with that he heads toward the bar, leaving you standing there with your pulse racing in his absence.

You and Darlene wait as Benny asks the bartender to call a local tow truck. The bartender nods, picking up the phone to make the call, but you can barely concentrate.

Your thoughts are completely consumed by Benny—his voice, his easy confidence, the way he moves. Your gaze keeps drifting over his body, noticing how the biceps in his muscular arms flex in his sleeveless shirt, every movement smooth and effortless.

“So, that’s your type, huh?” Darlene teases seeing the way you stare at Benny with an all knowing grin. “No wonder the college boys aren’t doing it for you.”

You flush with embarrassment, glancing at Darlene, unsure of what to say. “I—what? No, I can’t just…,” you stammer, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

“Why not? He’s gorgeous. You should go for it,” she encourages, her grin widening as she nudges you playfully.

“I can��t,” you murmur, shaking your head. The idea feels too bold, too daring, but your heart races at the thought.

Before you can protest further, Benny returns, a reassuring smile on his face. “Looks like you’ll get a tow when the rain clears up,” he says, his eyes flicking to yours with a warmth that makes your pulse quicken.

“Where do you live?” Benny asks casually, his gaze still fixed on you, making you feel like you’re the only one in the room.

“W-Wisconsin, I’m on spring break…from…-M-Michigan State” you finally manage to get out, your voice stuttering as you try to calm your rising nerves.

Benny tuts softly, shaking his head with an amused grin. “Long way from home sugar,” he says smoothly, his tone low and infectious with a look in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. You nod eagerly, unable to shake the butterflies swirling inside you under his gaze.

He glances out the window, noticing the rain still coming down in sheets. "Looks like we’ll be here for a while," he smiles. "How about a game of pool to pass the time?" He asks as his eyes lock onto yours, and the way he says it makes your heart skip a beat.

You fidget nervously, your fingers brushing against the hem of your damp dress shy under his attention. "I’ve… I’ve never played before," you admit, feeling a flush in your cheeks.

Darlene, ever the bold one, nudges you with a grin. "She’d love to learn," she teases, giving you a knowing look, clearly amused by how flustered you are around Benny.

Benny grins his eyes softening as he looks at you. "C’mon, I’ll show you sugar," he coaxes gently, his voice like honey with warmth and reassurance. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know."

His charm works its magic, and despite your nerves, there’s something about Benny’s easygoing nature that makes you feel a little more comfortable.

He gestures for his friend, a tall guy with a laid back smile, to come over. "This is Cal," Benny introduces. "Cal, this is Darlene."

Cal flashes an easy grin, nodding at Darlene,“Nice to meet you,” he says, and the way his eyes linger on her makes it clear that he’s more than happy to take over the role of entertaining her for the night.

Benny brings you over to the pool table and once there, he quickly pockets the scattered balls from the previous game until only a white and red one remain.

You can’t help but admire the way his muscles flex beneath his sleeveless tee as he lines them up, the white ball at the edge near you and the red ball in the center, each placement deliberate and smooth. When he’s done he looks up and catches you watching him, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his lips.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice low and inviting. You nod and he picks up a cue stick placing it gently in your hands, you stare down at its size and feel its weight in your palms unsure of what to do.

"Here," he says softly, his fingers brushing against yours and he positions you over the table.

The heat of his body is almost overwhelming against you and your pulse quickens while he guides your movements.

"Just like this," he murmurs, leaning in, his breath warm against your ear. "You gotta line it up to take your shot, then you ease into it until it feels right."

The sound of his voice, so deep and close, sends a shiver down your spine.

His chest presses lightly against your back as he adjusts your grip on the cue, and the firm feel of his body so close to yours has you nearly forgetting how to even hold the stick.

Your try to focus, but it’s impossible with Benny pressed against you, his touch is smooth and casual as he leans in even closer, his hand gently guiding yours as you prepare you take your first shot.

"You’ve got to get it just right," he whispers softly near your ear, and the simple gesture has your breath catching in your throat.

You look up from the game and see Darlene having a blast with Cal, their laughter filling the bar as they sip drinks and select music from the jukebox carefree and completely at ease.

"Do you drink?" Benny asks suddenly, his voice low, his blue eyes flicking over to you with a teasing glint.

You shake your head, barely managing to answer as your mind races with the feel of his hand still resting over yours on the pool cue. "No… never," you say, your voice breathless.

Benny’s smile grows approvingly. "Good girl," he says in a low, teasing tone, his gaze lingering on your flushed face for just a moment longer before returning to the game.

His compliment sends a wave of warmth through you, and you can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

His hand moves to your waist and for a moment, just from his touch, your heart races even faster.

"You’re doing so good," he says softly, his eyes catching yours again, and the way he looks at you makes your stomach flip.

His grip tightens on your waist as he adjusts your stance and warmth of his palm through the thin fabric of your dress ignites something deep within you.

Despite trying to focus on the game, all you can think about is Benny and how close he is, every subtle movement of his body feeling impossibly intimate.

Benny flexes his arm, as he holds you to line up the shot, and a small, breathy sound of pleasure escapes your lips.

His smile widens instantly, hearing it “You alright there, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice soft, laced with a teasing tone.

You can feel your face burning, embarrassed by how easily you’ve been overcome by him, but Benny doesn’t seem to mind.

The way his eyes linger on you with his fingers gently pressing into your waist, says he’s enjoying every second.

“Relax for me,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear.

His entire body presses against yours as he helps guide the pool cue forward, and all you can focus on is the sensation of his strong arms wrapped around you, the firmness of his chest, and the way his breath is warm on your skin.

“We’re almost there,” he whispers again, teasing against your ear.

You’re completely overwhelmed by him, and you can tell he knows it. His smile stays soft, as if he’s testing just how easily he can make your heart race with a single touch.

He thrusts into you hard as you both push the stick forward. The flex of his body against yours makes pleasurable sigh escape your lips.

You feel a warmth flood through you as the ball rolls smoothly across the table and lands perfectly in the pocket with a satisfying clack.

His smile grows even wider, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Just like that,” he murmurs, his voice deep and smooth, the words sending a shiver through you.

As you slowly stand back up together the heat between you intensifies, with a single glance, your eyes lock on his in a way that’s more than just a feeling—it’s deeper. Every breath feels heavier, the air charged with something unspoken, heavy with anticipation, waiting for what comes next.

Neither of you notice the bartender approaching until he speaks, “Sorry to say, ladies,” he says, looking between you and Darlene.

“Even though the rain’s let up, I can’t reach the tow truck driver again. Seems he’s already clocked out for the night, I’ll have to try again in the morning.”

You stand in shock, exchanging a worried glance with Darlene, the reality sinking in that you’re stranded without a way home.

“There’s a motel not far from here that’ll take you in for the night,” the bartender offers.

Darlene, always practical but a bit frustrated, sighs. “That’s nice and all, but we don’t even have a way to get there without the car.”

“I can take you,” Benny says, his voice steady and reassuring, his eyes locking on yours. “On my Harley.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of his motorcycle, excitement and nerves swirling inside as you look up at him, shy and hesitant.

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before,” you admit quietly, your voice barely a whisper.

Benny’s grin widens, a knowing glint in his eyes. “There’s a first time for everything,” he says, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “Didn’t have any trouble learning how to play pool,” he adds, his gaze slowly looking you over, lingering on you with a heated intensity.

The hint of seduction in his words makes your knees weaken slightly, your heart racing as you nod shyly, completely captivated by the effortless charm in his voice.

Cal, glances at Darlene. “I can take you, too, if you’re game,” he offers with an easygoing smile.

Darlene doesn’t miss a beat, grinning as she says, “Sounds like fun! Sure, why not?” Her carefree attitude puts you a little more at ease, though your heart still races with anticipation.

Benny’s gaze lingers on you, his smile softening. “You’ll be alright with me.” He promises and the protective edge in his voice makes you quickly nod as you look up at him.

After closing out the tab, he brings you in close pulling his leather jacket on to you, the scent of leather with the faint hint of him surrounding your presence.

“Can’t have you catching a chill, sweetheart,” he says with a smile, his voice low and smooth as his eyes lock onto yours, causing a surge of warmth to rush through you at the unexpected gesture.

He leads you outside as the damp night air settles around you, still heavy from the rain. You follow him to his motorcycle, a black, metallic shiny thing with chrome glinting in the low light. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before—sleek, powerful, like it could tear down the road without a second thought.

Benny moves with a natural confidence effortlessly swinging his leg over the bike, settling into place with ease. When he kick-starts the engine, it roars to life, the low, rumbling sound vibrating through the air, sending a thrill straight through you.

He turns, offering his hand with a calm smile.

“Come on, sugar,” he says, his voice smooth and reassuring. His hand is warm as you take it and your heart is pounding as you climb onto the bike behind him wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. The feel of his solid body beneath your touch makes you feel safe, despite the wild excitement racing through you.

His sleeveless tee does little to conceal the firm, hard muscle beneath your fingertips, heightening your awareness of his strength as you hold him tighter, feeling every movement of his powerful body under your grasp.

You glance over and watch as Darlene climbs onto the back of Cal’s bike with an eager smile, and soon both bikes rumble to life as you all take off into the night.

The engine hums beneath you, the power of it reverberating through your body as the wind whips around your face. The lights from the town blur past, the wet streets reflecting everything like a mirror.

The sensation of being so close to Benny—feeling the wind whip around you, his warmth steady in front of you as the bike rumbles under your legs—leaves you breathless. You feel a wild, exhilarating sense of freedom, like you’re untethered from everything as you speed through the cool, rain-soaked air.

Benny slows the bike as you near the motel, the rumble of the engine softening as he pulls into the lot and the bike rolls smoothly to a stop.

You tighten your arms around his waist reluctant to let go. The warmth of his body against yours, the security of his presence, makes you want to stay just like this for a little longer.

He shuts off the engine, and the sudden quiet is almost startling after the roar of the ride. His hand rests on yours as he turns his head, glancing back at you.

“You alright?” he asks softly, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small smile. His voice is calm, reassuring, but there’s something deeper in his gaze, as if he can feel the reluctance in your hold and you nod to him not quite ready to let go.

Darlene and Cal arrive, pulling up beside you, and you feel a wave of dismay as you realize the ride—and Bennys closeness—is coming to an end. With a soft sigh, you release him from your grasp.

Benny swings his leg off the bike and turns to help you down. His grip is strong, his hands firm as they steady you, and you cling to him, not wanting to let go, feeling so small and delicate in his protective hold.

When he gently places you on the ground, his hands linger a moment longer than they should, and your fingers instinctively tighten around his firm biceps.

Your eyes are soft, pleading for more as he gazes down at you. A knowing smile tugs at his lips feeling the same pull that you do, an unspoken connection between you both, drawing you closer without a single word.

“I’ll go book two separate rooms for us,” Darlene suddenly announces, giving you a playful knowing look that makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

It’s clear what she’s insinuating, and the fact that she said it right in front of Benny makes your face flush even hotter.

You step back from him, your mind swirling with the implications. You’ve always been the good girl, careful and cautious, and now standing so close to him, you’re not sure how to navigate the feelings rushing through you.

As Darlene heads inside to handle the rooms, you stand there awkwardly, feeling a nervous flutter in your stomach.

Benny breaks the tension with an easy smile. “Don’t worry,” he says, his voice low and warm.

“Maybe tomorrow we can grab some breakfast before you get your car sorted?” he suggests, and you can hear the a hint of reluctance in his voice.

His deep blue eyes lock onto yours, filled with the all the unspoken desire that lingers between you both, the weight of what you both want growing stronger, though neither of you says a word.

He steps closer, his chest almost brushing yours as he reaches for his jacket. His fingers graze your skin, starting at your shoulder, the touch slow and deliberate. His fingertips linger just a moment too long as they trail down your arm, sending a wave of heat rushing through you.

His touch ignites something deep inside, a warmth that spreads through your skin, making you ache for more. His movements are unhurried savoring every second of pulling the leather from your body.

As he slides the jacket off, you instinctively wrap your arms around yourself and it’s not just the chill that makes you do it—it’s the sudden vulnerability you feel leaving Benny.

As you look up to him his eyes are darkened with an intensity you’ve never known and in that moment, you’re completely captivated by him, your mind racing with the thought of whether or not you should invite him to stay the night.

Before you can make up your mind, Darlene returns, holding two room keys in her hand.

“Goodnight, boys,” she says with a wink, clearly enjoying the situation far more than you.

“Thanks for the fun,” Cal says, giving Darlene a grin and Benny smoothly pulls on his jacket as Cal mounts his bike.

“Meet you back at the bar,” Cal says with a casual nod, and Benny acknowledges him with a quick gesture before Cal rides off into the night.

Darlene hands you your key with a playful smile. “See you in the morning,” she whispers, the teasing tone unmistakable as she heads toward her room, leaving you standing there, undecided.

Benny’s eyes never leave you as he walks toward his motorcycle.

“I’ll see you tomorrow before you go,” he says, his voice steady and calm, but you can’t shake the lingering feelings you have for him.

You hesitate, watching him as he mounts his bike, and just before he kick-starts it, something inside you shifts. Without thinking, you call out, “Benny, wait!”

He pauses, placing his foot back down as he looks at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah?” He asks his voice is warm and inviting.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you swallow your nerves, glancing down at the key in your hand.

“I was just… thinking,” you begin, your voice soft and shy. “Maybe… you could stay for a little while? I mean, if you’re not too tired.”

Benny dismounts his bike, a confident smile playing on his lips as he approaches. His hand reaches out, gently cupping your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes meet his.

“You sure about that, sugar?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, carrying a hint of challenge.

“Because I’d be more happy to stay, just as long as I know I’m not rushing you into anything.” He confirms his thumb brushing lightly across your chin.

You nod, feeling the warmth of his touch as your nerves begin to fade.

“I’m sure Benny,” you respond with a reassuring smile.

“Alright then,” he says softly, leaning in just enough so you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, “Lead the way.”

You grin and head toward your room with Benny following close behind. The sensation of his presence making your heart pound in your chest as the quiet anticipation lingers in the air.

When you unlock the door and step inside, the atmosphere shifts as you look around the quant motel room feeling a quiet intimacy that fills the space.

Benny enters after you, the door closing softly behind him, and he quietly locks it.

As you turn to face him the warmth of Benny’s presence so close makes your heart pound in your chest. His eyes linger on you with an unspoken understanding, as if he already knows what you’re about to say.

You swallow hard, feeling a little self-conscious, before finally admitting,

“I… I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Benny’s smile widens, his blue eyes lighting up with a mixture of affection and amusement.

“I know,” he says softly, his voice as smooth as velvet.

There’s something about the way he says it, the gentle confidence in his words, that makes your heart beat faster causing your face to flush.

He reaches out, brushing the back of his hand lightly against your cheek, his touch sending a wave of warmth through you.

His gaze is intense, filled with affection and something deeper—something that has you both nervous and thrilled all at once.

He leans in until his lips hover just near yours, the space between you charged with anticipation and then he kisses you. His lips press on yours soft, and unhurried savoring every second.

His hand gently cups your face with his lips warm against yours, each subtle kiss leaves you completely captivated, your breath catching as the arousal begins to stir deep inside.

His tenderness makes you feel lightheaded, completely drawn into him, completely lost. And then, just as you begin panting into his mouth he pulls away leaving you lightly trembling with your lips still warm from his touch.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks in that smooth, deep voice of his.

“Why don’t you get out of those wet clothes for me sugar?” he suggests softly, his tone gentle but firm, as if he’s already certain you’ll listen to him.

You look up to him and hesitate for a brief moment, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks, but there’s something about the way he says it that makes you nod quietly.

There’s no pressure, no urgency in his voice—just a gentle suggestion, and you find yourself readily obeying him.

You look up at him through your lashes, feeling both shy and cautious as you pull down the sleeves of your damp dress.

Benny leans back against the door, watching you with a soft smile, his eyes never leaving you for a second.

His gaze isn’t overbearing, or insistent, instead it’s filled with a desire that makes you feel entirely wanted.

“Don’t be shy,” he smiles seeing you pause not letting your dress fall lower than your chest.

His words make your heart flutter, and with a deep breath, you pull your dress down to your waist, hooking your thumbs into your panties and stepping out of them.

As your clothing drops to the floor you kneel down, slipping off your socks and shoes as your bare feet sink into the plush carpet of the room.

You can feel the heat of his gaze as you stand up in front of him. Now completely naked your hands tremble slightly, the cool air mixing with the excitement rushing through your body and you Instinctively look down, too shy to meet his eyes.

“That’s better,” Benny says with approval, stepping closer. You can feel the warmth of his presence as his hand finds yours, pulling you gently to him. His other hand rests lightly on your waist, the simple touch making your heart race all over again.

“Look at me,” he whispers, his fingers softly tilting your chin up, guiding your gaze to meet his and intensity in his blue eyes draws you deeper into the unspoken desire that lingers for him.

“Not like you to fall for someone like me, is it?” he smiles, his hand sliding up your back, pulling you into his embrace.

“Never…” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you look into the depths of his eyes, falling harder for him with each passing second.

“First time for everything,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours before capturing them in a kiss that melts all your nervousness away in an instant.

His lips are warm and soft as his mouth moves against yours, and this time a soft whimper escapes you as he deepens the kiss.

The simple sound ignites something in Benny, and his lips move against yours with more intensity, drawing you in until you’re completely caught in his rhythm, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

Your hands reach up, clutching his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you as the intensity of his kiss steals your breath away.

His hands begin to explore you, trailing down your back before settling on your curves, his firm grip igniting a heat that spreads through your core.

You can feel your arousal building, warm and slick between your thighs. Your mind races, trying to keep up with the emotions flooding through you, but all you can focus on is him—his touch, his kiss, the way he makes everything else fade away.

He pulls back just enough for you to catch a small breath, his lips barely an inch from yours and you’re already craving for more.

“You want me?” he asks, his voice low, laced with an edge that makes your heart race even faster.

You nod, unable to speak, your voice caught in your throat as the rush of emotions and desire collide within you.

He grins, seeing the way you tremble, and without breaking eye contact, he shrugs off his jacket pulling up his tee and revealing the hard, sculpted muscles of his chest and abs.

His body is powerful, each line carved and defined, and the sight of him leaves you slack-jawed,

You’ve been wanting to see him like this all night, and now that he stands before you, your eyes widen in delight, taking in every inch of him.

“Don’t be shy,” Benny grins, stepping closer, guiding your hand to his chest. “Feel me,” he urges softly, his voice calm and commanding.

His hand covers yours, encouraging you to explore him and your fingers glide down the hard planes of his abs his muscles flexing slightly under your touch.

The sensation of his strength beneath your fingertips sends a wave of heat rushing through you, making your breath hitch.

He steps back, his eyes never leaving yours, the intensity of his gaze locking you in place as he leans down to unlace his boots to set them aside.

When he stands back up, his gaze is even more intense, every movement deliberate as his fingers undo the button of his jeans making your heart races with anticipation.

He pauses lowering the zipper, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he looks at you, savoring the moment and drawing it out.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” he asks his voice teasing and seductive like velvet as it wraps around you.

“Yes, Benny,” you breathe, your eyes flicking up to his, your chest rising and falling rapidly, charged with desire.

A slow smirk forms on his lips as he watches you, and with a practiced ease, he slides his jeans down exposing his long, hard cock as your eyes go wide.

It’s big — even bigger than you expected, the sheer size overwhelming you.

You chest tightens with nervousness, as you quickly look away feeling the heat rush to your face.

Benny reaches out, gently guiding your chin back to him. “Eyes on me, sugar,” he says, his voice low and commanding as he holds your gaze steady. “This is all for you,” he assures and his words are so certain, they leave you speechless.

He pulls a condom from his jeans and tears it open, drawing your eyes back down to his cock.

With practiced ease, he positions the condom at the tip, his fingers expertly rolling it down over his girth all the way to the base.

The way his cock stands, so heavy and full, sends a throb straight to your core and you try not to stare, but it’s impossible not to.

Your eyes take in every detail, the thickness of it, the way his skin stretches over the veins, how firmly it extends in his grip.

A flicker of nervousness runs through you, the thought of what’s coming next makes your body tense with both excitement and hesitation.

Benny notices the shift in your expression and smiles softly, leaning in close his hands moving to cradle your neck. “We’ll take it as slow” he promises, his voice gentle as he caresses you, his thumbs tracing down the delicate lines of your neck.

You take a deep breath, feeling your heart race from his words as you slowly nod.

He moves gently as he guides you to lay down on the bed, the linen sheets soft against your skin. He follows your movements, his body just above you as he climbs on top, the bed dipping under his weight.

His fingers trace the curve of your cheek, down your neck, and then linger on your waist. He takes his time, letting you feel the warmth of his body as he slowly settles down on top of you.

“You alright?” he asks his voice soft and reassuring as his thumb strokes your hip and his eyes meet yours, filled with a quiet confidence that sets you at ease.

“Yes, Benny,” you nod, finding your voice barely above a whisper and the way you breathe out his name makes his lips quirk into a small smile.

“Good” he says as his hand slides down to your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze.

He leans in close, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, his lips lingering there, savoring every touch.

He slowly nudges your legs apart, his movements patient and deliberate as his fingers push in between them causing a jolt of to pleasure shoot through your core.

The slickness of your arousal coats his fingers as he slips the them over your folds and he spreads your wetness with soft strokes making moan in pleasure.

His lips brush against your jaw in reverence as he feels how wet you for him, a satisfied hum vibrating through his chest.

His thumb grazes your clit in just the right way, with a teasing pressure making your breath hitch, and he explores further, feeling the tension in your body melt under his touch.

He slips one finger inside feeling your walls adjust and then slowly adds another. He begins stretching you with a slow, gentle rhythm the sensation overwhelming—tight and warm, coaxing deep moans from your lips with each stroke.

The pressure of his fingers inside you builds with every thrust, steady and sure making your whole body arch from the bed, quickening with every gasp that escape from your lips.

His eyes never leave yours, watching your every reaction, every breath, every flutter of your eyelids, memorizing the way you respond to him.

“That’s it sweet heart,” he whispers, his voice like a low purr, as his thumb presses into your clit with just enough pressure to make you moan and tremble beneath him. “Gonna work you open nice and slow for me” he whispers, his breath warm as it mingles with your own.

You can hear your wetness slicking between your thighs as his fingers work a rhythm that feels achingly perfect.

“You ready for me?” he asks as his fingers moving in just the right way, making you arch against him even more as he pushes into you deeper.

You gasp from the depth of his fingers as you hesitate, your body unsure, already overwhelmed by the sensations he’s giving, not certain if you can take any more.

“I-I don’t know if I can,” you manage to say, your voice breathless, trembling under his touch.

Benny presses a slow, tender kiss to your neck, his thumb circling your clit again with practiced ease. “Yes you can sugar,” he whispers, his voice low tempting. “and just so you know with out a doubt, I’m gonna make sure you’re begging for it” he says with certainty.

You feel his fingers begin to work firmer inside of you, each thrust deliberate, coaxing a deeper response from your body. His words a promise, as you begin to moan in pleasure completely unraveling beneath him.

Benny grins, his lips finding your neck as he softly kisses the delicate skin there. “Your starting to feel it aren’t you.“ he hums, his voice affectionate as he moves lower, his lips wrapping around your nipple, sending a new wave of pleasure through your body.

His tongue flicks gently over your sensitive skin, and your body arches instinctively, surrendering to his touch. He sucks gently making you push against him, as his fingers never stop coaxing more of your wetness.

Your body reacts in ways you can’t control, your thighs softly tremble as your chest rises and falls with uneven breaths. Your legs part instinctively under his touch, your thighs slick with the evidence of your desire.

A deep moan escapes your lips as he sucks harder on your nipple, his tongue flicking against you in a way that leaves your body craving more.

Your fingers clutch the sheets, your body writhing under the slow build of pleasure he’s giving. Your hips moving on their own, lifting towards him as your body seeks him out, needing more.

No longer unsure, your desperate for more of him feeling an emptiness you know only he can fill, and you moan for him your chest heaving as the pleasure builds tighter inside you.

“Benny!” You whine feeling all the sensations inside you at once, the warmth starting deep in your core and radiating outward, leaving you flushed and trembling.

Benny stops, his lips hovering over your nipple as he gazes up at you. “You’re ready for me now, aren’t you?” he asks his tone heavy with desire.

“Yes I’m ready,” you quickly pant your body trembling with need.

He wraps his had along the base of his cock and you gasp as you feel his large tip push against you, the size making you softly moan as he uses your wetness to coat it.

“Gonna give you a taste“ he says slipping the tip inside pulling back just enough to make your body pulse with a desperate need for more.

“There you go,” he says, his voice a soothing as he grips your thigh, steadying you. “Feels good doesn’t it?” he breathes.

You can feel his cock twitch in your impossibly tight walls and you nod feeling the pleasure radiating through you racing with the beat of your heart. You want more of him the anticipation almost too much to bear.

“Take me all the way” you say craving it and he responds moving his hands to your hips as he slowly, gently pushes himself forward, inch by inch, guiding his large cock into you until you suddenly cry out, feeling an intense ache.

“Benny!” you whine, trembling as your nails dig into his arms, losing your mind as you feel him stretching you apart. You shudder and moan uncontrollably, pushing against him. “You’re… you’re … my first!” you finally cry out unable to hide your secret anymore feeling like he might break you.

Benny slows his penetration a big smile forming on his lips. “I know, sugar,” he says, his voice like velvet, his words soothing the intensity of the pain building inside you.

“Y-you Knew?” You say in shock and his hand reaches your face stroking your hair back.

“From the moment I laid eyes on you.” He says softly. “The way you looked at me like I could solve every problem in the world.” He grins his eyes soft.

“Why’d you think I went along with what you wanted?” He asks studying your reaction.

Your eyes study his face stunned realizing what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Benny….… I do want you, I want you so much …but …. I didn’t think it was would hurt so much” you confess and his face lights up as he holds his laugh seeing how serious you are.

“It won’t hurt for long” he says looking at you affectionately. “I promise” he says in a way that eases your worry.

“Just let me take you all the way just like you wanted” he says, his voice sure and you nod swallowing hard.

Your breath hitches and a soft moan escapes your lips as he sinks deeper into you, every inch of him filling you slowly, leaving your body completely at his mercy. You begin panting and he kisses you trying to take your pain.

You’re impossibly tight, squeezing him hard as he pushes into you further, and he brings his thumb to gently stroke your clit, coaxing you to relax. “You’re doing so good” he whispers, his voice velvety and soothing “just relax and let me in.”

You lift your hips instinctively as he slowly fills you up, and you whine through the stretch as your fingers dig into his back.

“That’s it” he whispers. His cock twitches, and you see him bite down on the inside of his lip, holding himself back. It aches in you, but the pain dulls as Benny lets you get used to the fullness inside you.

You softly whimper as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “It’s all gonna feel better now,” he whispers, slowly dragging his cock out of you.

You tilt your hips, opening yourself to accept more of him as he pushes in again, filling you to the hilt.

You moan wrapping your arms around his shoulders burying your face in his neck as his cock pulls back once more. “Just like that,” he praises, his voice deep with satisfaction as he thrusts into you.

He takes you again, and again each time he groans in your ear, his voice filled with satisfaction.

You pull your face from his neck to meet his gaze. His blue eyes lock onto yours as he pulls out and pushes back in, the connection between you intensifying. You hold onto his neck, your fingers digging into his shoulders, feeling the tension in his body as he builds a steady rhythm inside you.

All you can do is moan from the overwhelming sensation as it begins to feel so good it brings tears to your eyes, your pleasure spilling over uncontrollably.

Hearing your moans, he grins, “Gonna make you come now,” he says, moving faster, his pace quickening as his fingers grip your waist, guiding your body as his hips roll against yours, each thrust hitting deeper, more intoxicating.

The pain that once existed is gone, overtaken by the ecstasy of his thrusts. You feel completely satisfied, filled with his thick cock driving into you with purpose. He maintains a quick rhythm, his body pressing into yours as your mind drifts into pure euphoria. You had no idea you could feel this way—so much pleasure flooding every inch of you at once.

You’re moaning freely, the intensity overwhelming as your body begins trembling, your mind lost to the sensations. “There it is,” he pants, snapping his hips against yours, his voice rough with need as you take every inch of him.

Suddenly, you feel it—the wave building deep inside you, tightening your core, making your entire body quake. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your walls fluttering around him as you cry out, completely lost in the moment.

He groans loudly as your body grips him tight, and with one final thrust, he joins you, his release hitting hard as he spills into the condom. His hips jerk against you, his groans mixing with yours as both of you ride out the aftershocks together.

He collapses gently on top of you, his chest rising and falling rapidly against yours, his breath warm on your skin. You lay there, stunned, your body still trembling as you try to catch your breath. The room growing quiet except for the sound of your soft breaths together.

After a few moments, you find your voice, soft and unsure. “Are you ever going to come to Wisconsin or Michigan State?” you ask, your voice small and vulnerable, reeling from what just happened.

He peeks up at you, his blue eyes sparkling with that familiar teasing look. “I’m thinking about never letting you leave Chicago,” he grins and his lips press against yours in a soft kiss, a newfound promise lingering between you both.

He rolls onto his back, pulling you close against him, wrapping his arm securely around you, holding you in place. Your hand rests gently on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. You bury your face against his neck, inhaling deeply, the familiar scent of him soothing you as your eyes flutter closed, and sleep finds you quickly, wrapped in the comfort of Bennys embrace.

The next morning, you awaken, your eyes blinking slowly as you take in the quiet room. The bed beside you is a mess of tangled sheets, and as you sit up, a sudden pang of panic grips your chest. Benny is gone. The absence of his presence makes the room feel colder, emptier, and your heart sinks as the realization settles in.

A soft, saddened sound escapes your lips, barely more than a whisper as you sit there, staring at the rumpled sheets, replaying the night before in your mind. It had felt so real, so intimate—how could he just leave?

“I’m so stupid!,” you mutter under your breath, cursing yourself for letting your guard down, for hoping he’d be there the next day.

Quickly, you throw the covers back and swing your legs over the edge of the bed, a knot of disappointment twisting in your stomach.

You stand up and head straight to the shower, trying to shake off the feeling, but the emptiness you feel clings to you like a shadow.

Once in the shower your body aches, a dull soreness reminding you of everything that happened last night, and as the hot water cascades over your skin, warm tears mix with the water, falling down the drain. No matter how hard you try to stop, you can’t shake the trembling in your body, a mix of emotions overwhelming you.

After what feels like forever, you step out of the shower, wiping the fog from the mirror to reveal your reflection. “Stupid stupid good girl ” you whisper to yourself, the words biting as you turn away from the image in front of you.

You dry off as you head back to the bedroom, slipping into your now-dry clothes, that you realize were placed on the heater as you slept and the sadness lingers.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. Your heart leaps in your chest, pounding wildly as you rush to answer it, ready to spill everything to Darlene. The disappointment, the confusion—all of it.

When you swing the door open, you freeze. There, standing in front of you, is Benny, a soft smile on his lips, holding two bags with breakfast.

The sight of him makes your mouth fall open in shock. For a moment, you can’t believe it—he didn’t leave.

Before you can even process what’s happening, you let out a relieved squeal and jump into his arms, wrapping yourself around him.

Benny chuckles softly, catching you easily as his arms come up to hold you close.

“Aww, sugar,” he murmurs softly, holding you close as you gasp for breath,shaking with emotion trying to hold back tears.

He shushes you gently, his arms strong and comforting as he carry’s you in and sets you down on the bed, his smile warm and reassuring.

”l-I..I thought you left” you choke out.

“I’m right here, baby. I wouldn’t just leave you,” he says softly, kissing the top of your head.

You hug him again, so relieved to have him there. He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes soft and sincere. “I wasn’t going anywhere,” he says gently, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I just went to grab us some breakfast.”

Benny opens one of the bags, pulling out a breakfast sandwich and handing it to you. Without hesitation, you begin to eat it realizing just how hungry you are. The roller coaster of emotions leaving you famished.

“You were hungry,” Benny smiles, his thumb brushing your cheek as you finish your meal and you rest back on the bed, feeling sated as a sigh escapes your lips.

After a while, Benny glances over at you, a more serious expression softening his features.

“I want you to be my girl,” he says, and you pause, your heart skipping a beat as the words sink in.

“Benny, how?” you ask, your voice soft, a mix of surprise and hope. “You live here, and I’m going back to school at Michigan State after spring break in Wisconsin ”

Benny lays down next to you taking your hand in his.

“I’ll come to Wisconsin,” he says firmly, his eyes locking with yours, filled with sincerity. “Every chance I get, I’ll be there and When you’re back in school, I’ll visit you whenever I can. It won’t be easy, but I’m not letting this go.” He says and his words hit you hard, the weight of them wrapping around your heart.

He’s serious—there’s no teasing or hesitation in his voice now, just a solid promise.

He gently takes your chin in his hand, lifting your face to meet his eyes. “I’ll even go with you to Wisconsin now if you’ll have me,” he says softly, sincerity and warmth flooding his voice.

Your eyes light up with excitement, as an overwhelming joy fills you. Without a second thought, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss, full of emotion.

“Yes, Benny!” you exclaim breathlessly against his lips, your heart swelling with happiness. He grins, pulling you close as he returns the kiss, his arms tightening around you.

The thought of taking him to your hometown, spending two weeks together, fills you with so much excitement that you’re practically shaking.

You rest against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, your heart full and content. Benny’s your boyfriend now, and everything feels right—exactly how it’s supposed to be.

🏍️ The End 🏍️

🔗 Master List

🏍️ Benny Cross Tag List 🏍️

@ashleybutler @finley-08 @ifuckindontknow @landlockedmermaid77 @jvanilly @oceanablue @12joeywheelerfangirl @autumnleaves1991-blog @presley1992 @rose-deathman @sillylittlethrowaway @lillypink @faephoria @nostalgichoya

🏷️ Always Tags Me List 💌

@purejasmine @faegoddessog @burnthheparaphilia @lindszeppelin @abswifey @ausssbutlershortstories @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @unicoreads @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @jkdaddy01 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade @gravesdiggergirl

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kingthunder · 8 months ago

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I saw a few of those "bg3 characters driving a car" headcanons and decided to do one myself for fun.

Lae'zel: She learned how to drive on the opposite side of the road from everyone else and her instincts are all wrong for her current location, but back home she's an excellent driver with a spotless driving record. She actually follows the service schedule in the car manual. She gets incensed at people who don't maintain their vehicle properly or who disobey road rules. Her car is immaculately clean. She would love to speed a motorcycle down one of those desert highways with no speed limit, but she's never gotten the opportunity and knows it's too reckless besides. But she wants to.

Karlach: She's had a motorcycle for ages and is a skilled if aggressive driver. However, she only recently learned how to drive a car. She is very enthusiastic about it and always volunteers to drive even though she's not very good yet. She's one of those people that do driving "pranks" like swerving back and forth to make people shriek/laugh, or doing "3, 2, 1 BLASTOFF" and gunning it. Could easily be provoked into an impromptu street race. Drives way too far on empty or with the check engine light on.

Shadowheart: Drives stick so that no one else can drive her car. It's a beat up old station wagon with a busted tail light and looks like shit on the outside, but inside she turned it into a goth mobile with like black velvet seat covers and stuff. She named the car but she won't tell you what. She has an air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror that smells like night orchids. She's a perfectly good boring driver with nothing to note about it UNTIL one day a cop tries to pull her over for her busted tail light and she hits the gas and pulls out all these street racing moves that you had no idea she was capable of and shakes the cop. She'll let you pick the music but if she doesn't like it her silent disapproval is so withering that you voluntarily change it to something she does like.

Astarion: Never got a driver's license and isn't about to get one now. Passenger princess who likes to control the radio but his taste in music sucks. He makes funny mean comments about other drivers and pedestrians. He'll complain if you ask him to fill the gas tank but he'll do it; you're paying for it, though. Actually pretty fun to go on a road trip with because he doesn't care about stuff like "making good time" and he's up for stopping anywhere that looks like it might be entertaining.

Gale: Never got a driver's license because he was always too busy with his studies to care and his mom drove him around and/or did all his errands for him anyway. He's real good at maps though and likes to be helpful by being the navigator. He's the smartest man in the world but he's completely stymied by a gas pump; you're better off pumping the gas yourself and sending him into the gas station for snacks. He always manages to conjure a full meal out of convenience food, somehow, and he's really good at feeding you while you drive.

Wyll: He saved up and bought his own fixer-upper car after getting kicked out of the house as a teenager. Good driver in general. People always think he would make a good designated driver, but actually he likes drinking socially and will politely decline requests to be the DD unless there's no one else available. Sometimes when he's having a bad day he blasts music really loud and finds a deserted area to just fuckin tear ass down as fast as he can go (he'll only do this alone and doesn't tell anyone about it). Never lets you pay for gas even if you offer. Will pick up hitchhikers.

Halsin: Has been driving the same car since 1973. Drives that specific car really well. If you gave him a modern car he would have no idea what anything on the dashboard does. Honestly, he prefers to walk or bike anyway.

Jaheira: Has a fuck-off huge SUV full of empty cans and wrappers from her kids. Absolute maniac of a driver who tailgates and speeds with no regard for road signs or lane markings. She is going to GET where she is GOING and gods help you if you get in the way.

Minsc: Failed the driving test three times and just gets rides from Jaheira. This does not bother him in the slightest. He tells you that Boo can drive vehicles you've never even heard of.

Minthara: Has run someone over on purpose.

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evilminji · 9 months ago

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Okay, but... now I'm wondering >.>

@the-witchhunter We talked about Danny being Morningstar's feral, probably engineering oils and ectoplasmic goo covered, mad scientist/himbo hybrid (attack) purse dog. His special lil guy.

But!

I seek your Knowledge(TM).

From second hand accounts? He seems to HATE the hypocrisy. The blaming HIM for humanity's own choices. The rat race and endless song n dance of "Righteous Good VS. Cartoonish Evil". Because it let's humanity paint themselves the helpless victims. Because it's all surface level. Because it is not so easy to escape the ugliness of your Sins, yet they keep trying to scapegoat him.

Fuck um.

He was tired of it.

But? He still has CONSIDERABLE POWER. It's probably written down. And the Ring Of Rage? Is proooobably not the loveliest of artifacts? I imagine, like the Crown, it's NOT leaving Danny alone. One of those "we don't CARE if there is no throne left to sit upon, you WILL wear us, as King" sort of systems.

It genuinely would not and DOES NOT matter, if not a single soul in all the Zone bows to him. Did he defeat the previous holder of their Right To Rulership? Yes or No.

If No, fuck off.

If Yes, new monarch.

Is it hurting him? Not the rings problem. Nor the Crown's. Heavy is the weight, etc etc. But! DANNY would certainly care. He is... is ANGRY all the time now. Has no idea who would even MAKE this bullshit ring. Why JUST Rage? Yeah, it makes ghosts stronger, but at what COST?

He can't even get rid of it!

......by himself.

Luckily, he's still clear headed enough to know that he's NOT in this by himself. And it's amazing what "mom, dad, this ring is trying to drive me insane. Help me" in a terrified and tearful voice, can brush over. No one threatens their baby and all that.

It would honestly be hilarious, seeing the extended Fenton clan decend like LOCUSTS on Pariahs Keep, searching for clues, terrifying the local ghosts, if... if he wasn't so tired.

God he's so tired.

It's Aunt Alecia who... "politely encourages" a passing scholar to lend them the book they need. Took the poor sucker right out of the sky. Guy never stood a chance. RIP.

He learns he has to head..... over? Like... 27 that-ish way, then up. Huh. 27 WHAT?

Realities, apparently. He's in the wrong bundle. Branch? Neighborhood? Eh. Clan Fenton rolls back out, he packs his bags, and hilariously enough? Goes off to the devils night club. Hopes he likes rings. Or hates them.

Thankfully, being "king" means the Zone? Kinda... humors him? Like... it still has RULES(tm). He can... can FEEL that now. But it's willing to bend some for him, if he asks. And anything NOT against the rules? If it's in the right mood? He need only ask. It's weird. Being suddenly so powerful, yet NOT, at the same time.

Cause none of it's his.

All he has is the Zone's attention. The ability to ask pretty please. If you don't mind. And then? The highways between... ALL will just? Shift and change for him. He can see how it went to Pariah's head. The Zone is pretty agreeable. Is by nature Amoral, cause it's not a Being, it's... well, it's the Zone.

And everyone wants him to ask things. Do things. Demand this or that. Use this power.

Maybe he doesn't WANT too! Maybe he didn't WANT to be king! Doesn't he have the right to say NO? To refuse? Why do they think he OWES them service? An eternity of politics and people trying to kill him, for something he never wanted in the FIRST PLACE.

He's so tired.

The nightclub's pretty cool.

So he comes to ask, politely of course, cause the guy's probably busy, if Morningstar could... dunno, fix or destroy it? Want a ring, maybe? Also he heard you MADE the stars. Huge fan of all of that. Can I ask about the process? Or are you in the middle of something?

And? Lucifer? Turns around, from where he's Leaning Seductive Yet Elegantly(tm) to see... scrawny. Tiny corpse child. No... half? Corpse? Alive. Dying. Alive yet dying. Huh. Well, that is different. And here he didn't think he'd get see anything NEW. You, child, are NOT a zombie. What are you?

Halfa.

I have no idea what that is. What do you want?

He gets shown the ugliest, crudest, peice of shit ring imaginable. A genuine foul little curse. Really stinks up the place. He destroys it, obviously. This club has STANDARDS. Hope that wasn't important?

Kid just smiles the biggest fangy lil grin. No. No it was not.

Obvious, lie, but cute lil teeth. He'll allow it.

He gets dragged into talking about the stars. And talking. And talking. Mostly bragging and explaining. Kid hangs off his every word. Follows him around as he makes his rounds. Asks good questions. Completely focused, dispite the booze and barely dressed dancing all around him.

Lucifer can't help notice the crown.

Lovely little thing. Space ice and star dust, glittering like jewels and light catching the mist. If he remembers right... that one iiiiiis..... not Limbo, it's.... Zone! That crown is the Zone, it changes to suit the wearer. He recognizes the vibe. Awfully young, aren't you?

And.... it all burst forth. He didn't even need to press. Use persuasive words and honeyed tones. Like an inflamed, festering wound. The merest brush is enough to spill everything.

Negligence, greed, blood lust. Bigotry and xenophobia. A tyrants endless quest for power. Ah, humans. They truly don't change do they? Realities away, dead or alive. Now they're harrasing a child. He honestly looks miserable. Whereas just a moment before, listening to Lucifer talk about his work on the stars, his soul practically GLOWED with light. A tiny little star unto himself.

.......maybe it's the big ol "I'm you BIGGEST FAN" eyes. The sad wet cat aura. Perhaps the scrawny "could snap you like a twig" teenager, all elbows and knees. The fact he is, in fact, NOT human; for all that he once was. But?? The kid? Is... not terrible company.

He'd even go so far as to say? It's like having a pet intern.

He can sleep on the couch.

Tell you what, you stay here? I'll keep taking about stars and YOU can do the chores I don't feel like doing. I'll take care of you and all that.

And Danny? Honestly was sold at the word "stars" but? This sounds like a phenomenally terrible idea... and he has yet to meet one of THOSE he hasn't made out sloppy still with, so deal! But as a minor, that DOES make you his new gaurdian for the next four-ish years. He's legally obligated to finish schooling.

Ah.

.....well shit.

(Just? Local stressed 14-15 year old Ghost King does RESPONSIBILE thing and finds Adultier Adult. With more qualified Adult powers. Unfortunately for everyone, the adult is Lucifer Morningstar, night club owner. Even MORE Unfortunately, said ghost kind has pack bonded with the Nice Star Man, who saved him from the Bad Ring, and effectively offered to let him crash on his swanky couchs.

Now Morningstar has to? Somewhat VAGUELY pretend he gives a shit local schooling system, as he puts his charge INTO it. Actively giving waking terrors to the magical community. What evil plot is afoot? Where did he get this tiny minor death god? What is his end goal FOR said child?

No one knooooows~

But Lucifer is just doing this cause he's a Being of his word. He hates the tedious minor chores he'll be foisting off onto Danny. And? Most importantly? Look at that face. *shoujo sparkly eyes of Star Sempai Noticed Me!* it's like having a golden retriever puppy. Ffs he has STANDARDS.)

(It'd be hilarious to watch the hostile 5th dimensional chess DC characters have going on in the background, all while? Danny is like? Man! Isn't this universe GREAT? Everyone here is so CHILL! And nice to me! I'm so relaxed now! Finally, I can finish my education in peace.)

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #tw wounds #but only as euphemism for emotional state

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uhyeahnoabsolutelynot · 2 years ago

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list of what i personally consider to be joel’s biggest “i forgot that i keep insisting i’m not your dad” moments:

-“well now i have to see it” / “i don’t want you to” just the tone in which he says this and the thing of being like i’m not going to stop this from happening but i’m going to make my disapproval known, very dad

-his face softening and posture opening up a little in ep1 when she’s like “but you know where to go? so we’re gonna be okay” because even though he’s pissed to be babysitting and thinks she’s more trouble than she’s worth, he is not immune to scared little kid

-also ep1, all of his annoyed eyerolling at ellie instantly respecting/listening to tess and not him

-the Single Silent Nod of Capitulation™️

-becoming increasingly able to sense when ellie is about to ask for a gun from a mile away

-becoming increasingly able to sense when ellie is about to ask him to explain something he doesn’t know jackshit about

-saying under his breath “just wait goddamn it” while jogging after her

-loud coffee slurp in response to being told it’s gross

-also, assuming a 14 y/o who grew up in military school would like coffee

-dad infodumping infused with mild griping (i.e. pre-pandemic air travel, gasoline, how fedra cleared the highways)

-“lookit”

-oH i ThouGht yOu weNt tO ScHooL

-“you’re gonna break your neck”/“slow down”/“what did i just say”

-impatiently telling someone to straighten up is very dad

-the white lie about everyone loving contractors and contractors being cool obv

-doing the “is there anything bad in here” / “just you” bit not once but twice. he really does cycle through the same like 6 weak-ass jokes

-asking someone else to navigate while driving and then stressing them out for not navigating well enough for his liking

-being able to guess her favorite astronaut, i am weeping

-laying down 3 ground rules and then pretty much immediately and continually letting ellie get away with breaking 2 out of 3

-starting to look over at her in surprise when she says “i don’t want to talk about it” because it’s the first time that’s happened and he can tell he’s touched on something that really bothers her, and you see him having to wrestle with the dad impulse to be concerned

-when ellie tries to get him not to go after the sniper; impatiently being like ugh come on that guy is not gonna shoot me he literally sucks (pedro’s read of this line always makes me laugh)

-and of course also the follow-up, when he sees he’s going to have to do better than that to convince her that everything will be fine and his tone softens and he asks her to trust him. the “no questions, just do it” to “do you trust me” pipeline bro, fuucckkk

-the wyoming scenes when they’re nearing jackson and joel’s losing his cool a little and acting kinda grumpy and agitated really remind me of when you have to run errands with your parent while they’re in a bad mood

#tlou #the last of us #not to admit to too much here but ive been gradually working on this list for like 3 weeks now #im sure i had other interests at one point #i can vaguely remember that time #maybe someday ill have other interests again! won’t that be a relief for my family and friends #my stuff

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cuntstable · 8 months ago

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i was talking about it the other day with zel and i think marcille would genuinely have the worlds most fucked case of roadrage ever. like she drives like her perfectly wellkept audi that has like her alumni and honors pumber stickers and a cute bunny plushie hanging from the front mirror and she follows road safety rules to a T but if someone honks at her at a redlight shes gonna cast an explosion spell at the entire highway. or tbone you

#dungeon meshi

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imagine-darksiders · 4 months ago

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Transformers Prime: Optimus X Reader. Chapter 2.

The Letdown.

Part 1

Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family, Optimus is a big, overprotective worry-wort with a soft spot for humans, Reader has more issues than Vogue.

Let me know if you'd be interested in a part 3 :]

------------------

Optimus has always been an honest mech. Even before he was bestowed with the Matrix of Leadership, Orion-wet-behind-the-audials-Pax was about as good at carrying a lie as Miko is at keeping herself out of trouble.

Not much changed after Orion became a Prime.

Deception never came easily to him. Frank and truthful in all he does, there are times when even the principled leader of the Autobots has to concede that sometimes, deceit is a regrettable, but unavoidable necessity.

That doesn’t mean he’s grown better at it though.

Lying, in any capacity, makes the stoic and unflinching mech feel as if his glossa has been dipped in a coat of lead. To his own audial receptors, the insubstantial white-lie he’d coaxed you with sounded clumsy, even stilted – just two more things unbefitting of a Prime.

The Matrix had bucked inside his chassis when he fabricated the story that convinced you to accept his assistance. It had, however, quickly settled down after Optimus reminded himself that this was a lie borne from the best of intentions.

He may be the most fastidious in following his own self-set rule to remain incognito on Earth, but even a stickler like him could hardly ignore a human in need.

And you were in need, he reflects as he tentatively adjusts his rear-view mirror, angling it towards your face as surreptitiously as he can.

The memory of your desolate, beaten expression is bruised right into the forefront of his processor, where it’s sure to remain for some time to come. Bathed in the dim glow of his headlights, you’d stared up at his grill with the same frightened trepidity of a doe peering down the barrel of a hunter’s gun. You’d approached his open door with such caution, your tiny yet vital pulse rabbiting inside the veins and vessels that pump precious blood through your fragile, little body.

You were afraid of him, and it would be remiss of the great Prime to deny that the realisation had plucked at a tender node running through his spark-chamber.

It felt like a rejection.

‘Really, Optimus?’ He can almost hear Arcee’s cool, bemused ribbing now. ‘One human doesn’t like you, and suddenly your self-esteem takes a hit?’

She’d be right to tease him, of course. A Prime ought to be above such concerns.

Yet still…

A human had needed help, and Optimus’s very presence – once described as a comfort by Jack when the boy thought he couldn’t hear – was enough to almost instil a fear in you so profound, you’d have sooner braved the cold emptiness of a desert and your own exhaustion than accept his aid.

Optimus eases his engine to a constant, steady hum as he drives down Highway 49, his weary passenger secured inside his alt mode. Distantly, he notes how some of his custodial protocols have settled back to lay dormant amongst his codes once again, the same protocols that rear their heads like spitting cobras whenever he sees one of the children in danger.

But for now, there is no danger, and so, contented, the Prime allows himself to cruise at a lax pace towards the distant, twinkling lights appearing on the dark horizon.

Jasper.

You mentioned that your journey ends at the dairy pastures out towards the East of town, where well-watered fields of grass are nestled beneath the shadows cast by enormous, twisting rock spires.

But why are you heading there in the first place?

The silence inside his cab starts to grow stifling. And although the quiet doesn’t bother him in the least, Optimus is conscious of your bouncing leg, and the small, quivering fingers kneading anxiously around the straps of the bag you’ve yet to remove.

It doesn’t look heavy… The note you left on the window of your truck claimed that the vehicle is all you have, and he has no doubt that what little else you might call yours is tucked safely within the leather rucksack that’s currently pinned between your spine and Optimus’s seat.

It may not look heavy, but neither does it look particularly comfortable.

Beneath the shell of armour and metal parts concealing his face, Optimus feels his brow plates twitch in their attempt to furrow gently towards one another.

“Perhaps you’d-“ he starts, only to hurriedly cut the feedback to his voice box when you promptly go rigid against his seat, your drooping, crimson-tinted eyes flying open to roll around his cabin like a spooked equine mammal. “My apologies,” he amends contritely, letting his voice drop to such an unobtrusive pitch, it almost mingles with the purr of his engine, “I only meant to tell you, there is ample room in the footwell for your belongings…”

Leaving an indicative silence in his wake, Optimus regards you curiously as you tighten your grip on the tattered, leather straps slung over your shoulders, though your gaze does flick down to survey the space around your shoes.

You may have traded your name for his, but it’s clear you’re still wound up tighter than a coiled spring.

“Oh,” you eventually murmur, and he’s pleased to see your white-knuckle grasp go slack.

As you begin to slowly slide the bag from your shoulders, every movement stiff and uncertain, Optimus nonetheless lets out an approving hum and returns his senses to the road ahead, though his focus remains almost entirely on the soft speck of warmth shifting around in his passenger seat.

Not for the first time, Optimus is struck by how much larger cybertronians are than humans. Even when you lean forwards and lower your rucksack down towards his footwell, his sensors barely register your presence.

At least your weight is more substantial than Rafael’s, he muses.

Once, during a rare but pleasant occurrence in which he was the only bot available to shuttle their tiniest member from school to the Base, Optimus had tried – and failed – to refrain from checking that the boy was still safely strapped in his passenger seat every ten nanoclicks.

Giving his engine a rev to shake himself from the memory, Optimus speaks again, mindful to keep his volume low this time. “May I ask you something, Y/n?”

He watches as you finally relinquish your hold on the bag, letting it drop with the utmost care into the space by your feet. “Of course,” you say genially, turning less and less guarded as the warmth of his cab envelopes you, beckoning you towards a much-needed rest.

“What brings you to Jasper?”

Small talk is hardly Optimus’s forte, but the nature of your unfortunate circumstances had shifted something deep within his spark and left it murmuring unhappily behind his colossal chassis.

Oblivious to the Prime’s concern, you cast another doleful glance towards the driver’s side, leaning back until your shoulders just barely ghost the fabric of your seat. “Only business, I’m afraid,” you offer, vaguely, “Nothing exciting. What about you? Are you based out here?”

“I am,” your mysterious driver responds just as concisely before he swings the topic back around to you, much to your dismay, “But this… Terry-“ He says the name as if it’s entirely foreign to him, like a word in another language that he isn’t sure how to pronounce. “-Is he a friend of yours?”

Puffing out your cheeks, you raise a hand, pivoting it lazily from side to side. “Not exactly…” you eke out. After a moment mulling it over further, you let your hand flop down into your lap again with a sigh. “Actually, no, not at all. He’s barely an acquaintance. I’ve only spoken to him once over the phone when he called to offer me a job.”

Optimus is too slow to mute the heavy hum that rolls through him, reverberating across his cabin and up through your seat.

You must pick up on his apprehension because you quirk one corner of your lips and exhale through a humourless chuckle. “I know… Ironic, isn’t it? I didn’t want to hop in a stranger’s truck, but I’ll travel all the way to Nevada to work for a guy I’ve spoken to once.”

Inwardly, Optimus fights back a frown. Soon enough, his cab is once again filled by his rich, mellow tone, just a few iotas shy of admonishing. “I assume you must have had a good reason for coming here.”

At that, you bark out a slightly louder harrumph. “I have a reason,” you admit before dropping your voice and tugging your brows together until they pucker at the middle of your forehead, gazing solemnly out through the windscreen, “Still haven’t figured out if it’s a good one or not…”

Frowning at the distant lights of Jasper, you miss the way the semi’s rearview mirror twitches microscopically to bring you into centre-frame.

The Prime casts his hidden optics discreetly over your strained expression.

Jaw cinched tight… Hands curled rigidly over your knees. Your whole frame is hunched in on itself, shoulders lifting towards your ears as if you mean to hide between them…

He doesn’t need to scan your vitals to know that your amygdala has just kicked itself up a gear.

You’re scared. And this time, something tells him that he isn’t the cause.

“Perhaps,” he starts slowly, waiting for you to unclench your jaw in response to his voice, “I could offer a third-party perspective.”

Snorting quietly, you reply, “To help me work out if I’m doing the wrong thing?”

“It may ease your troubles to share them,” he offers considerately, having to override the urge to send a soothing stroke through your EM field – or lack thereof.

Sometimes, Optimus finds himself stumped for how to connect with humans on the same level as he can Cybertronians. It’s through no fault of their own, nor his. It simply comes down to a difference in biology.

With the latter, he can so clearly convey a feeling or notion through the electrical impulses cast out by his matrix, and the spark housing it.

Oftentimes, he’ll have to brush his field against Ratchet’s when the agitated medic starts kicking out frustration and, so often, despair. He more frequently does the same to Bumblebee if ever the youngling grows despondent from Rafael’s absence. Arcee’s bouts of fury at the Decpticons, and Bulkhead’s ferocious protectiveness over Miko… Prime has felt it all, brought them into his field, and countered with a presence intended to calm and reassure without having to offer a single word.

But humans… They’re more difficult to soothe.

He has to go by tone and expression alone. The children are easier to read, but adults are a different story; masters at hiding their truest and most vulnerable thoughts behind facades they’ve had years to perfect.

How often has he caught himself trying to wrap Jack, Miko and Raf up inside his solicitous EM field before he remembers they’re human children, not sparklings? They can’t feel his energies like a Cybertronian would.

But regardless, he hopes they know that despite maintaining a poised and collected exterior, Optimus has a spark that’s familiarised itself well with their own, precious heartbeats.

He’s pulled from his musings by your soft, sardonic laugh. “What’re you gonna charge me the going rate of a therapist?” you joke, giving the empty driver’s seat a wry smile.

“I would never dream of charging you for anything,” he insists at once, so sincere that you think he either missed the joke entirely or he’s trying to bulldoze through your defences simply by being nice.

“Good,” you hum, “Because I couldn’t afford a minute of time with a therapist, let alone a whole session. Spent the last of what I had on fuel just to get here.”

“If you require financial aid,” Optimus tells you resolutely, “I would be happy to provide it.”

There are responses you’d expect to hear, and then there are those that make you choke on your own spit.

Lurching upright in your seat, your brows shoot up towards your hairline and you whip your torso around to gawk at the invisible driver. “What!?” you all but blurt, throwing an arm out to steady yourself against the dashboard. “What the- What!?”

The vehicle around you seems to churr apologetically.

“Ah… forgive me,” Optimus hedges, sounding uncharacteristically contrite, “Have I offended you?”

Blinking in rapid succession, you flap your mouth open and closed wordlessly for a few seconds, reeling your heat back up from the bottom of your shoes. “Wh-I… No,” you stammer at last, shaking your head, “No, no. I’m not offended, I’m just..”

Cutting yourself off to huff out an incredulous laugh, you press a few fingers to your temple, rubbing at it tenderly. “Christ, you’re a hoot, Optimus.”

A quick search on the internet only serves to baffle Optimus further. And as he attempts to make the connection between himself and a nocturnal bird of prey, you drag a hand down your face and let out another disbelieving little chuckle.

“Scooping me up in the dead of night, and now you’re offering me money… People will talk.”

Flicking the information on Strigiformes from his HUD, Optimus politely returns his attention to you and asks, “Is it unusual to offer money to those in need?”

“Not if that they’re a charity,” you clarify, the smile on your face turning limp as you shoot his seat a glare that lacks any kind of heat, “I’m not a charity, Optimus. I’m just an idiot who can’t keep a job.”

The truck’s engine suddenly kicks out a guttural growl just as it’s driver firmly states, “You are far from an idiot, Y/n. And… my offer still stands.”

“An offer I’m afraid I’ll have to respectfully decline,” you counter, though the frown on your face is slowly being replaced by a tentative smile, “Look, I appreciate the offer. I do. But you’re already going above and beyond to help someone you don’t know. If you keep being so nice to me, I’ll start thinking you came from the sky!”

All of a sudden, the semi’s brakes dip, only a little, barely enough to jostle you from your seat, but enough that you hastily glance out the windscreen to see if he had to slow for an obstruction in the road.

In the background, Optimus’s speakers give a burst of static before he forces out, “I don’t… The sky?”

“Yeah,” you answer blithely, “You know, like an angel.”

A hush falls over the cab as Optimus processes your words. After a time, the only think of any substance he can come up with is a soft, considering, “Oh…”

The same quiet settles itself over your shoulders, weighing them down, and you start to wonder if you’ve inadvertently insulted your mysterious driver by rejecting his offer too harshly. Before you can open your mouth to try and salvage your standing with him however, he clears his throat and utters, “You flatter me.”

“Do I?” you ask, sinking back into the seat and turning to peer out of the window, glad he doesn’t sound affronted, “Sorry if I seem out of practice, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to in… in a while.”

Optimus goes silent again, leaving you to listen to the rumble of his semi’s tyres travelling over the tarmac for several, lonely moments until he speaks again.

“You’re lonely,” he deduces, so gently and so condolingly that something in your chest gives a squeeze. Then, once again, just as you take a breath to protest his assumption, he asks, “Y/n? Why did you leave your home to come here?”

“… Ah…” Sucking a breath through your teeth, you sit up, lifting your back off the comfortable seat, much to Optimus’s private dismay, “Well, that’s… that’s a long and boring story,” you try to laugh.

As if in response, the truck slows down a few notches until the needle hovers over the forty mark. “I’ll wager it isn’t boring at all,” he prompts, “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension in your brows starts to cause an ache, and you stuff your teeth into your bottom lip to distract yourself. “It really is a classic,” you chuckle, wholly intent on brushing his concern aside, “You’ve probably heard it a hundred times before. Straight from the runaway’s handbook.”

Softly, the strange but kind man chides you. “Y/n…”

A lump starts to form in your throat but you force another laugh through it, pulling your chin from your knuckles to aim a look over your shoulder, hoping that his cameras don’t pick up your quivering lip. “Wait… Are you actually a therapist?” you joke, “Is that your day job?”

“Please?”

With a single word, your mouth snaps shut.

Swallowing, you try to bristle defensively, wishing you weren’t so hatefully tired and vulnerable that a simple ‘please’ could knock down a wall of indifference. “Come on, Optimus,” you scoff weakly, “I’m not about to offload my baggage onto a stranger. And we both know you’re not really interested.”

Unheard by you, a strong puff of hot air blasts from the semi’s smokestacks.

“I am loathe to contradict you, youngling,” he retorts, briefly throwing you off with the unusual word, “But I am interested. If you are in some sort of trouble-?“

At once, your spine turns stiff and you cut him off with a scowl, snapping waspishly, “-Who says I’m in trouble?”

Somehow, when he falls silent this time, he manages to exude an air of mild objurgation, and you can’t help but feel like a teenager again, slinking home well after midnight to find your parents still up and waiting for your return.

The comparison humbles you, takes some of the wind out of your ruffled sails.

Optimus’s pointed silence sinks over the cab like a thick, cumbersome blanket, too itchy. You want to throw it off.

Sullen, you swivel yourself back to face the window and lean your forehead against the cool glass, frowning out at the silver-soaked desert drifting by. Your mysterious stranger’s semi drives so smoothly, you can’t even feel the bumps.

But you can feel Optimus’s eyes upon you… somehow, as though he’s just waiting for you to make the next move.

Shifting in your seat, you stubbornly ignore the awkward silence, but it isn’t long before that awkwardness evolves into a kernel of guilt that embeds itself under your ribcage.

Here’s a man who so far, has been nothing but cordial and helpful to you. Hell, even downright generous. All he’s asked of you in return is to hear your reason for being here.

And what did you do?

You threw his – likely genuine – interest back in his proverbial face.

But to tell him…-

‘-Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,’ you scold yourself, ‘You’re not that exciting. You could have been through far worse, after all.’

Resisting the impulse to groan aloud, you knock your forehead gently against the window, considering.

For his part, Optimus doesn’t press you, he doesn’t clear his throat or try to change the subject, he just… waits.

And finally, alongside a great heave of your chest and a woebegone sigh, his patience is rewarded.

“You ever feel… like…” Squinting, you work the sentence over in your mouth before pushing it past reluctant teeth, “Like you’re not living up to everyone’s expectations?”

If you had any idea who you’d just asked that question of, you might have realised what the sudden lurch of his engine means.

Chalking it up to the truck changing gears, you peel yourself away from the window and stare down at your lap, fingers absently fiddling with one another. “It’s like… Okay, so, you know how people around you always say, ‘just try your best, that’s all you can do?”

When it becomes clear that you’re actually poised, expecting an answer, Optimus ventures a careful, “I have heard that many a time, yes.”

“And you want to try your best for them, right? You want to be a better person?”

“Of course,” he says far more easily, only to hesitate when you go still and your face crumples.

“But… you don’t want it badly enough...” you eke out slowly.

“…I’m sorry?”

“You don’t want it badly enough to actually put any effort into being that person, you know?”

This time, Optimus doesn’t offer a response.

You almost want to smile. Of course he doesn’t know. Look at him. Picking up a random stranger in the night to drive you where you need to go, offering a sympathetic ear to listen to your troubles, offering money when you tell him you lost your job… If he put effort into being better, they’d have to make him a Saint.

“I wasn’t… giving my best,” you finally sigh at the centre console, “At my job, at home… I knew I wasn’t giving my best, and I didn’t try to. I had everyone fooled into thinking that what I was giving them was all I had…. But it wasn’t…”

Suddenly, your eyes blur over with stinging, salty tears, and you duck your head at once, frowning angrily at yourself, “Not even close.”

Optimus murmurs your name, but you can’t bear to let him try and say anything kind to you now, not when you’ve just plucked at such a tender wound, and kindness would only rip the scab off sooner than you’re ready to let it bleed.

“I was, um… I was late to work one morning at my old job,” you clear your throat, sweeping a finger roughly under your eyelid, “Overslept. That was grounds for firing me. Lost my apartment because I couldn’t make the rent anymore… When I eventually bit the bullet and went home to tell dad, he…”

Your voice fades out, clogged by the memory of that day so many weeks ago, another in a long line of disappointments you’d walked over your parents’ welcome mat.

But Optimus is still waiting, still reserving his judgement until you finish, so you take a breath, remind yourself that all of this is nobody’s fault but your own, and continue. “I think… it was slowly killing my father to see his kid wasting a perfectly good life instead of being the person he thought I’d become.”

You try so hard to remain aloof, but the late hour, the solitary journey, this stranger’s amicable nature… Something akin to a shard of glass wedges its point under the soft tissue of your heart.

And jabs.

Suppressing a wince, you plaster nonchalance into a shrug and sniff, “So, I figured if he couldn’t see me, like at all, he might… be happier.” It’s hard to admit, just as it was when you made the decision to leave your house that night and set out to find your own way in the great, wide world.

Finally, just as the semi drives past a large, green sign that reads ‘Jasper city limits,’ Optimus’s voice rumbles through the speakers.

“You left your home,” he begins slowly, “Because you thought you might disappoint your father?”

Close.

You left because you knew you already had.

Not just him either.

Partnerless, childless, you’ve been drifting through life by yourself on the path of least resistance, and every year, you grow older, and you watched your mother and father grow older too.

Leaning your head back against the seat, you nearly let your eyes slip shut before remembering you’re supposed to be staying awake, pinning them open to peer up at the blue light reflected off a dark ceiling.

“… Does he at least know where you are?”

You smile sadly, rolling your neck around to your other shoulder and giving the empty driver’s seat a heavy-lidded blink. “He knows I’ll be okay.”

Just then, the seatbelt seems to grow ever so slightly tauter around you, just enough that you can feel it press against your abdomen, but so briefly that you can’t be sure it isn’t your chest hitching.

“He must be worried about you,” Optimus prompts.

Shrugging, you turn back to face the window. “Like I said, he knows I’ll bounce back. I… usually do. I mean I have done so far.”

Another disquieted hum trickles out of the speakers.

“That’s why I had to get to the dairy tonight,” you sniffle, blinking hard as the truck passes beneath the first street-light, bringing you safely within the city outskirts, “I have to make sure Terry thinks I’m worth keeping on as a farm-hand. If I’m late on my first day and he decides I’m not worth it…” Your hands ball into clenched fists in your lap and you grit your teeth, determined not to let your misty eyes spill all over Optimus’s seats.

“I need this job,” you croak, more to yourself now than your invisible listener, “Not sure how many bounces I’ve got left in me.”

This time, you’re certain the seatbelt tightens. You even spare it a glance when it doesn’t slacken again, and you force your fists apart to slide your fingers beneath the fabric, gently working it loose.

Optimus is barely aware of your touch. “You should try to contact your father,” he says at last, “I’m certain that if he hears of your circumstances, and learns why you left and where you are, he’ll be able to help you.”

He watches you blink, frowning suddenly and sitting up to give his side of the cab a baffled look. Slowly, your expression opens up as a realisation dawns on you, one not yet privy to the mech.

“Oh,” you say, mildly surprised, “You think it was only my decision to leave.”

-----------------------------------------

Optimus doesn’t know which is worse.

That you could feel like such a burden to your family, you thought leaving would make them happy.

Or the fact that your family had done nothing to stop you from walking out the door.

--------------------------------------

There aren’t a great many things that a Prime is permitted to regret.

That does not, however, make them incapable of regret. Only the admission of it.

By the time Optimus’s gargantuan tyres turn onto the long, sandy driveway of Terry’s Dairy, he realises he’s added one more contrition to his ever-growing list. He’s gone behind your back, turned a blind optic to your wishes and invaded your privacy in a way that made the matrix in his chassis squirm and howl.

But it’s all he could think to do for you at short notice, he laments, short of carting you back to the silo and ensuring you get some proper rest. Ratchet would probably take one look at your vitals and order a week of inactivity. Then he’d likely tear Optimus a new finial for bringing yet another human into their fold.

It would be counterproductive, he supposes. After all, the Decepticons aren’t aware of your existence, and affiliating yourself with the Autobots will only paint a target on your back.

No, leaving you here is for the best, he reasons, though he resolves to avoid going behind your back again in the future.

He also resolves to make the drive up to the pastures part of his weekly patrol… Not for any particular reason – it’s possible the Decepticons also prowl along these old roads… And if, on his way by, he happens to cast a glance over and see you, well… All the better.

“Are you certain you’ll be alright?” he asks for the umpteenth time as he trundles to a stop in front of a modest, wooden farmhouse, his headlights bathing the little white porch in their dazzling glow.

Giving a jovial roll of your eyes, you haul your rucksack out of the footwell and reach down to press the seatbelt release, having to jab at it with your thumb a few times before it eventually relents and lets go of the metal buckle.

“Don’t you worry about me,” you tell him stoutly as you reach for the door handle. That too, you struggle to open, tugging at it with no success until the lock promptly goes ‘click’ and the door swings open of its own accord.

Clicking your tongue at the temperamental tech, you arduously slide yourself from the seat and swing the rucksack over a shoulder, climbing backwards down the steps. “You just worry about getting this truck in tip-top shape. Sounded like the engine had a mind of its own.”

Dropping the last foot to the ground, your knees threaten to buckle, but you manage to remain upright, stepping back to smile up into the cab before the door tugs itself shut.

Right on cue, the semi’s idling engine lets out a noisy rev, instantly drawing a laugh out of you.

“Ha!” you grin, “Yeah, just like-”

You’re promptly interrupted by an unexpected commotion from the house.

Whipping your head towards the porch, you let out a yelp as the screen door suddenly bursts open, and from the darkness comes barrelling a short, stocky man wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama shorts, a single shoe, and a ferocious snarl.

But most alarmingly of all, is the shiny, side-by-side shotgun held aloft in his arms, the stock braced against his shoulder and one, keen eye staring straight down the sights.

All the moisture in your mouth dries up when you realise those long, glinting barrels are aimed directly at you.

“What the-!?” is all you can bleat out.

Without a moment’s warning, the truck beside you roars to life and suddenly lurches forwards on its wheels, thrusting itself like a wall of metal into the space between you and the gun-toting farmer.

“Wh- Optimus!” you exclaim, trying to stand on your toes to fruitlessly see over the semi’s grill. “Terry!? Is that you!?”

“I told you sons of bitches,” the incensed man hollers, “F’I ever caught you tryn’a mess with my cows again, I’d-!”

“Terry!” Stepping sideways, you attempt to move around Optimus’s semi, only for the truck to roll forwards, keeping you hidden safely behind its bumper.

“Optimus, stop it,” you hiss, planting a palm on the warm, thundering hood and darting around the front of his truck, too quickly for him to move forwards again lest he squash you beneath his radiator.

Lifting your voice, you hurriedly call out, “Terry, i-it’s me! Y/n? We spoke on the phone! About the job!”

You’re met with a stunned silence as you manage to skirt around to the other side of the semi’s bumper, keeping your hand on the metal as if that alone could keep the ten-tonne machine at bay.

Finally, ‘Terry’ comes into view, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you meet his steely glare through the sights.

Then, just as swiftly, he blinks, and the gun drops almost at once, his face bursting open in surprise. “Y/n? That you, kid?” he calls.

The palpable relief almost brings you to your knees. Taking your hand off the truck’s grill, you step forwards, eyeing the gun warily as it dangles at the farmer’s side. “Yeah, it’s me… Sorry.”

“Goddammit, Kid! You about gave me a damn heart attack!”

“I gave you a heart attack!?” Expelling a shaky breath, you card your fingers through your messy hair and add, “Jesus, Terry. Was the gun really necessary?”

There’s a line of sweat beading on the farmer’s wispy brow as he flicks his gaze between you and the revved-up truck lurking behind you. After a moment of squinting, he returns his eyes to you. “Can’t be too careful,” he grunts, “This old thing ain’t even loaded. Just use it to scare away some damn kids who’ve been comin’ round here and spookin’ up my herds.”

True to his word, Terry breaks the shotgun’s barrels, flipping the gun around in his hands to show you the empty chambers.

At that moment, as if he’d been waiting to determine that the danger had passed, Optimus puts his semi in reverse, rolling it backwards over the sand as you turn to watch him leave, absently raising a hand to wave farewell as he turns the truck around.

Just before he does, the semi’s headlights blink once, then twice, on and off, a farewell in his own right, before its wheels carry it around in the spacious yard and it begins to drive, leaving the way it had come, back up the lonely, sand-choked track.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Terry breathes, draping a wrist over his forehead and letting out an incredulous chuckle, “The Angel…” Tearing his eyes off the truck’s retreating taillights, he stares over at you, mouth crooked into a lopsided grin. “How the Hell’d you get a ride with the goddamn Angel?”

“I’m sorry,” you sputter, eyelashes flickering in disbelief, “Angel?”

Terry’s expression morphs from giddy excitement to a wistful, faraway gaze. “The Angel of Highway Forty-Nine,” he says breathlessly, his eyes sharpening once again as he turns them back onto you, “He’s a legend. Just showed up one day in that big ol’ truck of his. Noone knows who he is or where he came from! A ghost, that’s what folks say, who drives his rig up and down the roads around Jasper. Never stoppin’ for gas. Never gettin’ to where he’s goin.”

Suddenly, his demeanour shifts again, and he closes the distance between you, lowering his voice conspiratorially and lifting his hand up to his mouth as if to shield the words from prying ears. Though the only ears you can see are those of the cows watching sleepily from their barn, no doubt awoken by the ruckus. “I know folks who swear, when they drive past him on the road, they look, but not one of ‘em has ever seen a person behind that windscreen!”

“Oh my,” you return, feigning intrigue with a tired expertise, “That’s spooky. But… maybe the glass is just tinted?”

Terry leans backwards out of your bubble, spreading his arms wide and pursing his lips. “Maybe,” he concedes, only to immediately drop his arms again, and you watch in mild concern as his face splits into a wide, borderline-manic grin, “Or maybe… He’s an alien, and that big rig there?” He points the barrel of his shotgun down the farm track at the spot where Optimus had disappeared. “That’s his craft.”

…. Ah.

Paying dutiful attention, you follow his line of sight, eyebrows high on your head and a carefully pensive gaze laid bare for Terry to see.

“His craft?” you echo, “You mean like a spaceship?”

The old farmer’s face lights up and his eyes zero in on you like a car salesman who’s just spotted a clueless customer stumbling into his showroom.

It took twenty minutes for Terry to show you to the little annex you’d be living in from now on. And only another five for you to thank him profusely for giving you this chance, bid him goodnight, shuck off your shoes and rucksack and finally, finally flop face-first onto the bed. A real bed. With pillows and sheets and a blanket. Not the bed of an old pickup truck and a coat tossed over your legs for warmth.

Rolling onto your back, you splay your arms out on either side of you, sending a tiny smile up at the ceiling.

“Alien… Ha,” you laugh softly. Terry’s a character. Decent enough, but the scent of stale beer and hops lingering on his breath when he leaned in close stole some of the credence from his theory.

Now, Angel… you can get behind. Optimus had shown up right when you needed him, after all, even if you couldn’t see it for yourself at the time.

Ah, but Optimus is the good sort. And good sorts tend to drift to where they’re needed, helping out wherever they can. You’re not the good sort. You just muddle on through and go wherever you can, helping out where your help is invited.

You resolve to bite the bullet and just check how much is in your current account. See if you’ve got enough in there to hire a tow, or a friendly farmer with a tractor and a rope…

The passcode screen flicks away, and you’re left blinking tiredly at the figure on top of the page.

You blink once.

Then again, harder.

Then you promptly drop the phone onto the bed with a soft ‘whump.’

Snatching it back up, you gape at the screen, drop it again, then throw your hands over your mouth in abject horror.

There must be some mistake. You’re dreaming, you fell asleep, and this is a dream, surely to god!?

A third check yields the same results, and once again, you toss the phone away from you to the foot of the bed, staring after it as if it might come alive at any moment.

No matter how hard you squeeze your fingernails into your scalp, you can’t wake up from whatever twisted fantasy you’ve stumbled into.

The numbers and words are burned into your retinas, flashing dimly every time you blink.

‘$10,000 has been added to your account.’

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