#i know what i'll be thinking about this evening that's for sure...

[mythalism]

You seem to be both a solavellan and mythal fan so maybe I won’t get shot for this question lol

Veilguard was my first game. I kept default settings, which meant solavellan world state.

I genuinely wonder: what makes people think Solas loves Lavellan? Or that if being with Mythal possible, he still would choose Lavellan?

He is so clearly not over Mythal. Last game is filled with references to their connection, she herself confirms that both still love each other. He is very protective of her while arguing with Elgarnan. Statues of them everywhere, him painting and playing songs about her, his very own room having statues of Mythal… In the end he discloses he does it all for her, refuses to stop after Lavellan’s appeals, and only does so after Mythal shows up.

In comparison, Solas describes what he had with Lavellan as “entanglement he selfishly grow close to” he both regrets and cherishes. Most of the romance is carried on Inquisitor’s shoulders, as she both explicitly tells what he means to her, reaches out to him and ultimately shares his burden of atonement.

I couldn’t understand why this ship was so popular, so I watched solavellan romance in DAI. And while it was beautifully done, having the context of Veilguard, I just keep seeing Mythal in every “we shouldn’t”/his face after balcony kiss/ultimately abandoning her in the end. It feels almost unfair and cruel for him to enter another relationship while his heart isn’t free. And to visit Lavellan’s dreams afterwards

What am I missing?

a lot of people would shoot you for this. but dont worry i am not one of them. be careful out there tho

i think the first thing i would say is that instead of watching a video, you would need to do play a full solavellan playthrough of the game if you do want to genuinely understand the relationship and why it is so beloved. im not sure which compilation you watched, but even one that includes all their conversations (rather than just the cutscenes, of which there are very few) cannot do the relationship justice. so much of understanding solas as a character and how he loves people, by extension, is wrapped up in how he reacts to the world at large, its people, its history, its institutions, and its metaphysics. assuming you're new to DA and wouldn't know this, solas's romance in inquisition is the shortest, most sparse romance in the game, and was added later in development. as a result, much of his essential characterization happens outside the bounds of romance content, but still adds deeper meaning, context, and depth to the relationship. even in terms of romance specific content, some of my favorite content occurs in banter that probably was not included in the video you watched. the solas romance is less a standalone love story, in the way many of the romances are, and more of a big juicy delicious cherry on top that helps you better understand the overall dragon age solas plot/cake you're eating.

theres a couple non-romance specific scenes that shed significant light on solas & mythal's dynamic from his perspective that i am not sure if you have seen and honestly i wouldnt recommend watching them because, again, i think you should just play inquisition and experience them in the proper context. but solas's companion personal quest is directly about his corruption at the hands of mythal, though we didn't know that until veilguard came out and contextualized it. and this quest pretty explicitly demonstrates how he feels about what she did to him: rage, beyond forgiveness, deserving of death. he also comments on her at the temple of mythal, and his comments are mostly neutral but verging on judgemental, and do illuminate that while he may have loved her, he certainly did not trust her. it is he who first clarifies that she was a goddess of vengeance, rather than justice. which i cant think about too long or else i'll get angry that they ret-conned it to benevolence -> retribution or whatever the fuck and erased the anders/justice/vengeance parallel... anyway

but i think more telling is his absolute refusal to drink from the well if asked, and most telling; how he fears for an inquisitor who drank.

he specifically calls mythal dangerous, arrogant, and fickle, absolutely refuses to submit to her will once again via the drinking of the well, and begs an inquisitor he loves not to do the same lest she suffer the same fate. he loves mythal, of course, but he also fears her. he is critical of her behavior and wary of her motivations. his love for her exists alongside his recognition of what she was.

another fairly vital bit of information is how according to trespasser (cole banter), solas used to wear mythal vallaslin until he burnt it off his own face when he developed his vallaslin removal spell. its how he got the little scar above his eyebrow. meaning, if vallaslin were slave markings, that solas was effectively enslaved to her. this is... pretty important context, obviously. but we never find out what it might have been like for him. veilguard.... didnt forget but rather deliberately ignored this because it wasnt willing to interrogate the issue of slavery which had been vital to solas as the leader of a slave rebellion. ugh. anyway.

this leads into my next point which is that veilguard really drastically changes solas's motivations to be far more mythal-centric than what was set up in inquisition/trespasser. we always knew something was up with them, and people always wondered if they might have been lovers, but veilguard goes in on this idea in a way that many people would actually call out-of-character compared to how he behaves in inquisition. veilguard itself though does present their relationship as rather complex though, in my opinion its one of the best parts of the game. the two moments that i chew on most frequently are the letter from felassan in mythal's weird little dragon pit that reveals how he made that island for her but locked it away when she was killed. and my ultimate fave is how she reveals that in the literal thousands of years she has been sitting there alone since her murder, many of which he was alive and fighting a rebellion partly in her name, and in the 12 years since he woke up from uthenera, he never went to visit her. not once. its giving jane eyre and i fucking love it. in this same conversation, she also says that when he killed flemeth, he wept. this, i think, is the crux of how he feels about her. he can barely look at her. he resents her. he will use her like he did anyone else. he loves her. he feels lost without her. he will never forgive her. he misses her. all of these things are true at once, and mythal seems to feel similarly; she loathes him. she understands him better than anyone. she resents him for betraying her and abandoning her. she calls him a pathetic little crybaby pussy ass bitch. she loves him.

i dont think anything you said in your message is necessarily wrong. i do think he loves mythal still. i think he always will. i think mythal is valid when she says that they have a bond that no one will ever understand. i agree he is protective over her. i also interpret their relationship as romantic though a lot of people do not. i just love drama. but i think you are misinterpreting his reluctance to be with lavellan as coming from his attachment to mythal as a person, rather than his attachment to his duty to what mythal represents - the world he ruined, everything he's ever done wrong. to say that solas would actually consciously choose mythal over lavellan if they were the final two contestants on the bachelorette is honestly, absurd. sorry. because actually he would choose neither, he would dramatically let the rose fall to the ground and run off to restore the elven people while chris hansen (felassan) dramatically runs after him. both women are secondary to him when it comes to the good of the entire world, and fixing what he broke. he has had plenty of moments to choose mythal and run away with her if he wanted. he has literally had her bertha-ing out in his crossroads attic for 10 years. he also literally does kill her via flemeth. which isnt to say that he wouldn't kill lavellan if forced to, i think he would. but the point here is that its not mythal vs. lavellan. its mythal vs. the world, and lavellan vs. the world. he should have chosen the world over mythal. he didnt. he created the blight instead. he destroyed everything. he cannot make the same mistake again, so he will choose the world every. single. time.

regardless, every time solas turns away from lavellan in the romance, he is not thinking "i wish you were her". he is thinking "if i do this to you, i have become her". prioritizing his own desires over the good of the world, stringing her along, using her as a tool to do his bidding (getting the orb back), are all things mythal did to him. he told her he would follow her anywhere. and when he begins to realize that lavellan would follow him anywhere (as she says in veilguard), he freaks out and has to end it. he knows he will have to continue to kill and cause destruction to bring his world back, so if he did allow her to join him in walking the dinan'shiral, or did anything other than break her heart and leave her, he would be corrupting her the way mythal corrupted him; a weapon to achieve his goal. but he refuses. in his mind, he already destroyed the world for love once; at mythal's behest. if he abandons the world for lavellan, he is destroying the world for love again, and making her an accomplice. so, every time he leaves her it is an act of love.

the way the inquisitor is the driving force of their romance is partly just... gameplay lol but its also consistent with the overarching theme of consent in a relationship that is fundamentally unethical and unequal. lavellan has to be the initiator or else solas becomes a predator. some would say he is anyway lol, but its clear much of the writing was designed to avoid this with the way he is constantly denying himself, backing away, trying not to give in. it might have been juicy, but for him to knowingly romantically and sexually pursue a young woman 10,000 years younger while lying to her about his identity and using her for his plans would make him an entirely different character. a character that would be a hit on romantasy booktok, but not solas. consent and ethics are so central to not only the relationship thematically, but to solas himself, and some of that is because of mythal and the inequality of their own past dynamic. solas is so passive in the romance not because he doesnt like this weird clingy bitch who wont leave him alone, but because he does not want to recreate the same dynamic that corrupted him into pride and uhhhh literally destroyed the world. i'll leave you with another essential quote that you may not have encountered yet:

Cole: It isn’t abuse if I ask! Solas: Not always true.

in trespasser, solas's duty to bring down the veil was more unambiguously to the elven people and the alleviation of his own crushing guilt, while mythal was collateral damage in his way and he used her like he would use anyone else (including lavellan loool) as a tool to achieve his goals. we see this when he kills flemeth and takes mythal's power. in veilguard they had to obscure this slightly to make him "less sympathetic", to use the devs own words. and they did this by shifting the crux of his motivations to mythal. i dont think his lap dog devotion is out of character, i adore it, but i hate that it came at the expense of his more complex and sympathetic motivations of saving the elven people and spirits from the damage of the veil. as a result, when looking at his behavior in the context of inquisition + trespasser + veilguard, i interpret it as mythal being symbolic of the destruction of the world at his hands. and not to toot my own horn but trick's interpretation that they shared on bluesky does support this, when they said that to solas, mythal represents the past and lavellan represents the future. ive written about his statement that it was all for mythal, and the tldr is that i think it is also supposed to be interpreted as symbolic and reflective of his psyche. but even if he did do it all for her, i dont think that necessarily negates his relationship with lavellan. he needs mythal to break the cognitive dissonance, alleviate his guilt, and release him, because she is the source of all of those things in the first place. lavellan could never break them because she is frankly irrelevant to those things. he is so caught up in his sunk-cost fallacy that he feels the only way is through. lavellan may not be able to break the hold the past has on him because she is separate from it, but she can offer him another path once it has been broken, a fork in the road he thought was straight; her, their future.

i think to say solas's heart is not free is a misunderstanding. he denies his heart's desire over and over, we see this clearly in the letter he sends to lavellan in veilguard that expresses how badly he wanted to put down his burden and stay with her. in his expressed reluctance to leave her in crestwood, how he refuses to lie and tell her it meant nothing. in "no matter what happens, i want you to know that what we had was real". his indulgent final kiss in trespasser. in "i will never forget you". its especially apt that you worded it this way and that vhenan means "my heart". if anything, his heart is the most free part of him. it is everything else that belongs to mythal: his body, created at her command. his path of destruction and ruin, which she set him on. his purpose, which she distorted from wisdom to pride. she, then, is the only one who can give it all back to him. and as soon as she does, he is free to prioritize his heart. and he quite literally does.

tldr; play inquisition <3

[thegreeninyoureyes]

Sylus wants to comfort you but someone interrupts

thoughts thoughts random hurt/comfort scenario

[gender neutral MC/reader]

it is one of those moments where you need to search for him. fear is creeping in and your trembling voice cannot stand a call, so a few messages asking for help and his location would have to do. sylus knows you well enough to get the message, and walks towards the entrance of the base to try find you in the city's dark. he'd offer you a ride to his home if you needed to, because it is also yours in a way, especially when you need to escape, be it from physical or mental enemies.

you can run into his arms when you see him— he'll catch you. he always will.

"let's go inside, it's cold out here. you need something warm and for me to take care of you. I can carry you inside if you want."

if you start crying against his chest, there's no way he's moving away. sylus pulls you in a relaxed embrace, wrapping you in his arms and slowly letting his head rest on yours. you needn't speak, you needn't explain. he'll take you somewhere safe and quiet, somewhere you'll get to lie against him until words come back to you.

and yet in this occasion, the comfort doesn't last for long. perhaps it was a client, or a visitor you didn't know sylus had at the base. your thoughts start racing again when you hear angry footsteps followed by a voice asking for sylus in a demanding tone. perhaps I'm exaggerating it, you think about your own perception. but then sylus sighs.

"stay here, love. I need to... clear up some things to someone. I'll be back in a minute, I promise."

he takes a good look at you before even drawing away, and for a moment you think he was going to kiss your forehead. he doesn't, and you are suddenly left alone with the dim lights of his bedroom. the flame of the scary thoughts he was blowing away starts to reignite very against your will. but that's how struggling works, right? what can you cling to now?

you catch glimpses of the conversation, which slowly turns into an argument, and realise you might actually be part of what's caused it. unable to stand the atmosphere and the thought of bringing trouble to sylus, you try to put yourself together as decently as possible and get out of the base.

when the door closes on you, you start to run. you need to get away— from the noise, from trouble, somewhere safe, somewhere you no longer know where. the moment sylus realises you've left, he ends the argument in the middle of it, clearly pissed off at the other person's attitude. he rushes to get his jacket and also leave, hoping to still find you near the building.

the panic and its emotions didn't let you get far, and sylus approaches you with his motorbike. it's started to rain. you don't know if you've been crying or if the sky's been doing so for you. but sylus' first reaction upon seeing you is to take off his jacket and put it over you, and his care hits you like the strongest wave against your wall of insecurity.

"I'm gonna drive you home, and I'm hoping you don't mind me staying over this time. I'm sorry things got complicated in there. you'd never, ever, cause me trouble for needing me, and I'll make sure to make that clear to others, no matter who they are. now, hold on tight. I still owe you tonight."

if there's someone you can call when things aren't right, it's him. the one whose presence makes any place feel like a safe home.

[ssentimentals]

hellloooo can u please do idol!coups x reader for sleep deprivation on cheol’s part with reader taking care of him xx

helloooo anonie, sure i can, thank you for requesting! 💜

prompt: sleep deprivation

you try not to hover. you try not to act like mother hen in fear of being annoying. you try but it's so god damn hard when seungcheol looks like a dead man standing. your boyfriend has always been a hard worker, that's one of the qualities you admire about him, but his work ethic is also your biggest worry. seungcheol is present but just barely - you are sure that he didn't hear majority of the things you said with his mind being very, very far from here, buried in new dance routines or lyrics that had to be finished. it's amazing to see how work energizes seungcheol and gives him purpose, but it's horrible to watch him crumble under pressure. slowly you reach out for his hand, giving it a light squeeze: 'cheollie, baby. you're with me?'

seungcheol blinks at your touch and it takes him few moments to sit up straighter on the seat and send you a fake smile. 'yeah, baby, sorry, i'm here. what did you say?'

god, you can't believe this man wanted to pick you up after your work. seungcheol can't be trusted with a car now, not when he can barely focus. 'i asked if yuo're sure that we should go out tonight. you look really tired, cheol.'

he stubbornly shakes his head. 'no-no, i'm good. i'm so caught up at work that we haven't seen each other much lately.'

you kind of want to strangle and kiss him at the same time. he is so good for trying to make time for you amidst his hectic workload but he is so bad for not taking care of himself properly - you sigh loudly. 'when did you sleep last time?' you ask straight to the point. thank god for traffic at this hour, so you can fully turn to your boyfriend without paying attention to the road. 'you look like a zombie, baby.' seungcheol purses his lips and you instantly understand what's the problem. 'cheollie... you can't fall asleep?'

seungcheol sags in the passenger seat, looking embarrassed and done with himself. 'yeah,' he admits quietly. 'i- it's so fucking stupid. i don't know, i'm trying everything but it's just not working.' he sighs and rubs his eyes tiredly. 'i don't think i actually slept properly in the last 4-5 days.'

this admission breaks your heart. seungcheol is running on fumes and yet despite it all, he still is here, with you, because he doesn't want you to feel neglected. without thinking you enter new address to the gps, knowing full well what can help him this time. 'instead of the restaurant, let's have a picnic,' you announce in an overly enthusiastic tone.

'at eight pm?' seungcheol asks, confused. 'i mean if that's what you want then i don't mind but-'

'that's exactly what i want.' you squeeze his hand, sending him a small smile. 'no worries, baby. we are very close.'

it doesn't happen often, but it did happen before. sleep deprivation is, unfortunately, a part of seungcheol's life as an idol and you learned hard way how to deal with it. familiar scenes of home or studio don't calm him mind down, but fresh air and water always help. you park the close as close you can to the river and roll down all windows, letting cool evening breeze in. 'alrighty,' you turn to him with a gentle smile and snatch small blanket from the backseat. 'you take this and get comfortable. i'll order us some food.'

seungcheol grabs the blanket, frowning. 'what is happening?'

'we are having a picnic in the car,' you explain, opening food delivery app. 'and you are sleeping until the food arrives, getting much needed rest.' seungcheol opens his mouth to protest and you cut him off: 'this is a date. this is our date that i want to have.'

the thing is, you don't really care about specifics of date as long as seungcheol is close. he doesn't look convinced at first, but when you start talking about your date with a quiet music on the background, he relaxes. it doesn't take him long to fall asleep - adjusted seat, warm blanket, fresh air and your hand in his do their magic. you watch quietly as his breathing slows; in sleep seungcheol doesn't look as tired. still holding his hand you adjust your own seat and lower the radio volume. seungcheol going out of his way to be with you makes you want to do the same; and if date is about you letting him finally sleep and guarding his sleep then you're not complaining, not at all.

a/n: writing this made me so soft :') pls give cheollie all the hugs and sleep he deserves!! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[arc-misadventures]

The Bro Code

Ren: Oh, I'm so glad to be home!

Jaune: So am I. I know it's not my home, but this place has always felt like a second home to me.

Ren: I'm glad you think so. We'll be spending our time here at my mothers place, is that alright?

Jaune: That's just fine. Can you tell me about your family again? As confusing as mine family is because of my dad, yours just baffles the mind.

Ren: My mom is a human, and so is my dad.

Jaune: And, your sister is a god...?

Ren: She is the latest reincarnation of my villages guardian, the spiritual deity know as the, Emerald Dragon.

Jaune: Okay, and how did that happen? Did your mom sleep with this, Emerald Dragon, or...?

Ren: The Emerald Dragon has always been a female, so she didn't impregnate my mother!

Jaune: I'm sorry! I don't mean to imply anything, it's just... that can happen.

Ren: ...

Ren: I-Is that how one of your sisters...?

Jaune: No, but certain dragons can change genders, so...?

Ren: ...

Ren: The Emerald Dragon reincarnates into the child of any woman whilst it is in the womb. When my sister was born she came out as part dragon, signifying that she was the latest host of the, Emerald Dragon.

Jaune: Ahh... Now it makes sense. It's weird, but I've heard worse.

Ren: Okay, but Jaune there's something we need to talk about before we see my family.

Jaune: Which is?

Ren: Don't you dare fuck my sister!

Jaune: Okay.

Ren: I mean it, Jaune I'm invoking the bro code here! So don't even think about flirting with my sister!

Jaune: Okay.

Ren: I may see you as my brother from another mother...

Jaune: And, I too brother!

Ren: But, stay the fuck away from my sister!

Jaune: Okay.

Ren: ...

Jaune: ...

Ren: Okay then.

~~~

Li: Lie! It's so good to see you!

Ren: Hi dad, it's nice to see you too.

An: Renny! Oh my little baby is home!

Ren: Mom, please don't embarrass me in front of my friend...

Jaune: No please! I'm enjoying this~!

Ren: Traitor!

Li: Hahaha! Hello, Jaune it is nice to see you again.

Jaune: It's good to see you as well, Mr. Ren. And, to you as well, Mrs. Ren.

An: Hello, Jaune it's wonderful to see you again. I know, Rin was looking forward to seeing you again.

Jaune: Oh... is she?

An: Indeed she is, why in fact... Oh, Rinny~?

Rin: What is it mom?

An: Ren's home!

Rin: OH, cool that's nice...

An: And, he brought his friend, Jaune with him~!

Rin: J-J-Jaune?! Jaune's here?!

"Crash! Shatter! Thud!"

Rin: Jaune!? Ahem! Hi, Jaune it's nice to see you~!

Jaune: Hi, Rin it's a pleasure to see you too.

Rin: So, Jaune you interested in doing anything later~? Like say taking a walk by the pond... the lily pads are in bloom...

Jaune: Oh, that sounds lovely! Would you like to accompany us, Ren?

Rin: Eh...?

Ren: I would love to!

Rin: Oh.. oh no you didn't... !

Li: Well before we go do that, Jaune.

Jaune: Yes?

Li: To the bath with you. I'm sorry but you, Valians tend to stink when you get all sweaty.

Jaune: Considering my family I could also add a number of other reasons why, but I would greatly appreciate that! The last bath I had was mostly to clean the gore off my gear. Of which my armour also needs a thorough cleaning... Well then, off to the bath!

Li: Please follow me, Jaune.

An: I'll go start supper while you do so.

Li: Thank you dear. Jaune, follow me?

Jaune: Lead the way. Ren, are you coming?

Ren: Yes, I'll join you.

Rin: Wait, can I talk to you before you go, Ren?

Ren: Sure what is it sis?

Rin: And they're out of sight...?

Rin: Okay good!

"Pow!"

Ren: OW?! What the hell, Rin?! Why did you punch me in the face?!

Rin: To tell you that I don't give a shit!

Ren: ...?

Ren: About what?

Rin: About your fucking bro code! I've been waiting for months for, Jaune to come by again so he smash my sacred treasure again! And, no one, not my mother, my father, my brother, and not some fucking stupid bro code is going to stop me! You understand?!

Ren: But... but the bro..?! Wait... Again?!

Rin: Shut the fuck up! I'm going to fuck that blonde Adonis, and if you try to stop me, I will fucking barbeque you! You here me?!

Ren: ...

Ren: Okay...

~~~

Jaune: Ahh... This nice...

"Splash."

Jaune: Hmm? Oh, hey, Ren the waters... Why do you have a black eye?

Ren: Jaune... You may sleep with my sister... again...

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay...

[count-on-mi]

Twice Interactive Story Part 17 Protect You (Mina, Feat. Sana, Dahyun)

You slowly fall asleep when you are thinking about Nayeon, Jihyo, and Momo.

When you wake up again, you see Mina is making the alarm for you as usual. It's a new week already, you gonna back to work.

"Thank you Mina." I caress her cheek, and let her continue.

'Morning boss.' Mina smiles at your compliments and continues her work.

You put your hands on her head, slowly guiding her movements. Mina is now licking the rod.

'Are you feeling better at the weekend, boss? I was so worried last time.'

"I'm feeling better Mina. You might want to hurry Mina, we need to get to work."

'Minari is glad that boss feel better, Minari will hurry up.' Mina focus back on your tips, she licks it a while and start swallow your whole cock again.

'OH, Mina, you always do a great job, I am happy to have you as my secretary.' You moan Mina's name due to the pleasure.

'Thanks for the reward, boss. Minari will try to make boss cum sooner next time.' Mina swallows all of your cum and helps you to wear the clothes.

Jihyo and Dahuyn still haven't wake up, so you two leave after breakfast directly. You Starr at Jihyo's room before you leave, and it is noticed by Mina.

'Still fascinating about Miss Jihyo's tits, boss?' Mina caresses your cock when she gets on the car.

"That’s not it Mina. Let's just make sure we're ready for the day." I say as I drive to work.

'Boss, I see the way you look at Miss Jihyo's room, you want more than her tits I can tell.' Your cock is hard again by Mina's touching, she frees it from your pants and start jerking you off.

'Boss, please don't tell to Minari, I can see you are telling lies, Minari wants to help boss, for everything.'

"You can help me in the office Minari, I need to relieve some stress. You'll be getting a lot more than breakfast. So just hold on."

'I'm hungry now, Boss.' Mina bends down and start sucking you while you are driving.

'Miss Sana must want to share boss with Minari when we back to the office, Minari wants some private time with boss.'

'If Boss doesn't want Miss Jihyo's tits, maybe boss can play with Minari's.' Mina unbutton her shirts and show you her tiny tits.

"Mina, I can't drive and play with you at the same time. Let me find us somewhere quiet."

Mina gives you a thumbs up but doesn't stop her mouth, still sucking your cock. Worrying you may crush the car, you just park at a secret place that no one will disturb you.

You adjust your seat and enjoying Mina's blowjob, which you use one of your hands to play with her tits.

'So horny today, Mina?'

'Minari is always horny for boss.'

“Maybe we should spend a day making sure you get all the cum you could ever want." I say as I push Mina's head down. "You're so good to me Mina, I love you."

Mina does not resist, she allows you to push her head deeply to your base. Mina starts choking as you reach her deep throat, but she signals you she is all good and tell you to keep going.

'OH, Mina, such a nice mouth...' You raise your head as the sensation is too much.

As my left hand moves her head my right plays with her nipples, flicking and pulling them.

Mina is more excited as you tease her nipple, she moans even with a dick in her mouth. 'Umm...ummm... ummmm!'

But maybe she is too excited, she starts choking again, she hammers your thigh, wanting you to let go.

I'll let her go and cup her cheek. "Minari is struggling today isn't she?"

'Minari has disappointed boss, sorry.' Mina looks down while she is breathing heavily.

'What does Boss want for compensation?' Mina strokes your dick and grabs your hands on tits, want to keep your excitement.

I move Mina onto my lap, "I think you know what I want Mina."

Mina shyly nods and starts riding you. 'Ah, Minari will make sure boss feels good this time.'

Mina guide your hands to her tits again. 'If you can't play Miss Jihyo's tits for now, use Minari's. Minari will help boss to get Miss Jihyo.' Mina says this before she leans her head to kiss you.

I'll push Mina down while I thrust up. "But I already have you Minari." I start fucking Mina at a good pace soon afterward, kissing her nipple and lightly biting them.

Mina pushes your head toward her chest, she raise her head, enjoying your gentle bite to her nipples. 'Boss, Minari really loves you.' Mina says in a light sound which you cannot hear.

Mina tenses her pussy, making it tighter and you are happier for every thrust.

I bounce Mina on my cock faster driving her toward her orgasm. "I know you want to Cum Mina. Do it."

'Ah, boss, Minari wants boss to cum with Minari.' Minar rides you faster as her orgasm is near. Mina looks right into your eye before kissing you again.

As we kiss, we both orgasm. I fill Mina's pussy with my cum. As we relax i kiss her neck. "We should hurry along now."

Mina raises her head, and let you mark hickeys on her, she just moans when you do it. 'Boss is right, maybe we should continue in office.'

Mina helps you tidy up before you restart the driving, she slowly caressing her belly, feeling your cum inside.

Once we arrive to the office I send Mina in first and wait for a couple of minutes before walking in.

Mina kisses you before she leaves the car. 'See you later, boss.' You wait a couple minutes before going up.

'Having a nice weekend with Mina, boss?' Sana smirks at you when you walk past her seat. 'I wanna join too.'

"Why don't we spend a day at your place instead?" I whisper back before continuing to my office.

'I did send you the invitation, but you reject it.' Sana slap your ass before you go. 'I will find you later, boss.'

You return to your room and see Mina is tiding your desk.

I come up behind Mina, my hands grabbing her tits. "Why are you cleaning my desk little Minari? You know we're just going to make a mess again." I start kissing the back of her neck, and start undoing her shirt.

Mina relax and let you take the initiative, 'Boss, Minari haven't finished yet, can you wait a while?'

But Mina's hands do not stop, it going down and jerks your dick without removing your trousers, soon your have a bulge.

I start tugging at her skirt. "I want to fill you up with more cum Mina, don't you want that too?"

Mina helps you to remove her skirt and panties, she is now fully naked and she put her upper body on the table.

Mina spilled her cilt for you, the cum is slowly dripping out, she gets some of it and tastes it. 'Boss, Minari needs more.'

I waste no time and thrust into Mina. "I'll make sure to give you all the cum you want Mina." I caress her ass as I thrust quickly.

You take Mina from behind and your desk soon becomes messy again. 'Boss, Minari will clean it again, later, ah.'

Mina use one of her hands to grab the table, making sure she is balanced; her another hand goes backwards, pushing you to thrust faster. 'Minari like this so much, boss.'

"I like it too Mina." My cock has become slick with her juices as I continue thrusting into her. It's allowing me to thrust faster and harder, and I give Mina all that I can. I even spank her ass until it becomes a deep red.

Mina moans as you spank her, she grind her ass with you, increasing the friction you thrust in everytime, her pussy is becoming tighter, she is going to cum.

'Boss, Minari is cumming, faster please!' Mina's hand is pushing your hip faster, her ass also moving backwards at the same time.

I follow her orders thrusting faster, "Let's cum together Mina. I'm going to cum inside."

'Um, um, ahh...' Mina stops her moan when she reaches her peaks, you shoot the third time of today in her, Mina's body jerks when you cum in her.

You move to your chair without pulling out, Mina sits on your lap. You slowly wipe the sweat on her forehead, admiring her beautiful side profile.

I pinch her nipples and kiss her neck, "You're one of the most beautiful women in the world Mina. Can you keep going?"

'Only one of them?' Mina pours her face, also raising her head and pushing you harder to her neck.

'Minari always ready for boss, just tell me what you want, tell me what you need, ahhh... Minari will be there for you.' Mina's breathe go heavier as you are pinching her nipple.

I bounce her softly on my cock for a few seconds while I think. "Then how about we have some fun with your ass Mina?"

Mina shyly nods and rides you one more time before she eventually stands up. Mina strokes your dick a few times before sitting back, this time aiming her asshole, slowly putting it in.

'Ah... it's tearing me apart.' Although your cock is lubricated by Mina's sauce, Mina's ass is too tight, she is slowly adopting it.

Meanwhile you hear someone knocking on the door.

'It must be Sana.' You say to Mina

'Miss Sana could wait, boss.' Mina caresses your cheek. 'Enjoy Minari's ass first.'

"Mina what if it’s someone else? We should be careful."

'OK...' Mina is unwilling to let you go, but she obeys your order. She gets up and allows you to answer the door.

You wear back your trousers and walk to the door. It's Dahyun knocking at the door. 'Surprise? Oppa. Can I come in?'

"Not now, Mina is still helping me clean the room up Dahyun" I say through the door while looking at Mina to silently tell her to get dressed. I quickly open the door slightly and and step out, closing the door behind me. "What's with the sudden visit?"

'You know I am finding jobs right oppa? I come for interview today, haha.' You only notice that Dahyun is wearing suit today.

'Can oppa show me where I should go?' She hands you her phone and shows the address of the venue. It's no good, it seems the interviewer is Tzuyu's boss.

"How about you work for me? I could help arrange something, this position you're applying for is with someone I don't want you around. Please Dahyun let me do this for you."

'Come on, Oppa. I am not children anymore, I have my own route to go, and I can't always rely on you, right? I will find the way myself, see you later, Oppa.' Dahyun takes back her phone and turns around to leave.

I grab her arm "Dahyun please, he's the type to harass the women under him. I don't want you to deal with that. I know you're not a child anymore, but I still want to protect you. What's it going to take for me to convince you? I'll do whatever it is."

'Oppa, if you don't like your colleague you don't need to tell me his bad things, just trust Dubu, ok? I can get the job without your help, I will prove it. Oppa, you don't need to convince me, just trust me please.'

Dahyun looks at her watch, 'Not much time left, oppa. I will meet you at lunch, ok?' Dahyun then leaves before you say anything.

Mina comes out from the room when she saw Dahyun is left, 'Why your sister will come, boss? Did she notice Minari is with you, boss?'

"No, she's meeting with the old man from last time." I rush towards Sana to tell her to visit the old man's department and watch over Dahyun. I explain that Dahyun is my step sister and I don't want anything bad to happen to her. If she can do that for me I'll do what she wants for a day.

'OK, no problem, boss.' Sana stands up and is ready to go for Dahyun.

'If that old man wants to fuck me, should I accept it?' Sana looks you playfully.

"Don't you dare, but thanks Sana. I really appreciate it."

'You can check it later yourself.' Sana leaves, you return to your room and wait nervously.

'Boss, Miss Sana is smart enough to handle it, don't worry.' Mina massaging your head while you two are waiting.

"Yeah you're right, she is. I just have to wait. Why don't you get back to work for now Mina. It'll do me no good thinking about it."

'Boss, Minari don't wanna leave you alone...' Mina stands in front of you and cup you cheek. 'Minari wants to help boss.'

"I'm not in the mood to continue what we were doing. How about we go out for lunch then? We'll pick something up for Sana and Dahyun too, just in case."

'Minari just wants boss to be happy.' Mina keep holding your head and kisses you.

'I'm back, oppa... Oh, sorry for interrupting.' Dahyun standing at the door. Mina blushes and rush out of the room.

"How did it go?" I ask without missing a beat.

'So far so good everything.' Dahyun sits opposite you. 'I guess I can get the job, but someone come in during the interview, the girl tells something to the interviewer and then I was told to leave, so strange.'

'How about you, oppa? Who is that girl? Does Nayeon eooni knows?'

"You mean Mina, She's my secretary. She's been helping me deal with everything lately. Work and regular life."

'Your secretary? Would a normal guy kisses her secretary?' Dahyun is ignited by your answer.

'It all starts before you break up with Nayeon eooni?'

"After Dahyun, she confessed her love after I broke up with Nayeon. She spent the day I broke up with Nayeon watching me cry."

'You have accepted it then? Please tell me you didn't.' Dahyun low down her head and ask. 'Nayeon eooni would be sad if you move on that quick.'

'I don't want my chance leaves before I can catch it.' She whispers to herself.

"Not exactly, but we're getting there. She's probably going to ask something soon."

'Can you not accept her, at least for now, Oppa?' Dahyun raises her head, seems she has made up her mind. 'Please?'

"I suppose I can try but I can't guarantee anything. Dahyun how about we go out to dinner after work, celebrate your effort."

'Having dinner with you is good, but I am not receiving an offer yet, will the celebration be too early?' Dahyun not so sure.

Sana enters your room at the same time, 'Hello, boss.'

"Hello Sana, I haven't seen you today. Have you met my step sister Dahyun?" I say hoping that Sana catches on to the fact I want to make it seem that I had no part in her going to Dahyun's interview.

Sana knows what you mean, she pretends she knows nothing. 'Oh, you are Dahyun, such a cutie. Boss always mentioned you, Dahyun comes to cheer up your Oppa today?'

'No, I am coming for interview today.' Dahyun shyly answers.

'I am glad to hear that, hope you can work here too.' Sana pat Dahyun's shoulder, encouraging her.

'But for now, I have something need to report to Boss, would you mind come back later, Dahyun?'

"Dahyun, we'll talk later. We can get dinner, spend sometime together." I say as I usher her out of the room. "What do you have to report Sana?" I ask as I close the door and turn around.

'Of course, about your dear sister, boss.' Sana put her hands on your chest, and whispers in your ears.

'Or you wanna check have I let that old man fucked me first.'

"Tell me what happened with Dahyun, Sana. That's my priority."

'Of course, Dahyun is safe from that old man, you can see it right?' Sana sits on the sofa.

'I didn't directly involve in it, instead I have used Tzuyu, don't you remember that girl?'

"What exactly did you do?"

'We know Tzuyu has a high influence on her boss, so I make a deal with her, if Tzuyu can stop her boss to approach Dahyun, you will get her in your team, but I didn't say the time, it could be now, it could be when she graduates next year.'

'I told Tzuyu to seduce her boss, and let him know if Tzuyu is no longer the only woman in their team, he won't get anything from Tzuyu again.'

'Does Sana satisfy you, boss?'

"Well you did a good job Sana"

'But how to get Tzuyu in our team is something you should handle yourself.' Sana smirks.

'Is it time for my reward now?'

"Do you want it now? Or would you rather get a Saturday all to yourself?" I ask her as I put my hands around her ass.

Sana holds your hand to grab her ass harder, and blow hot winds in your ear. 'Why not both, boss? Do you sure you can hold on?' Sana then start kissing your neck.

"I can always hold it in, so choose wisely."

'Then maybe I should keep it for the weekend, remember what you promise me, ok?' Sana leaves a hickey before she leaves the room.

'And, don't let Mina know, Dahyun too.'

"Yeah, yeah." I start to clean things up and finish the day. I send a message to Dahyun asking where she wants to eat.

[logaenhowlett]

Hey... so, that hurt.

IN THE BEST FUCKING WAY.

When it comes to Old Man Logan, I love when writers touch on just how weary and exhausted he's become. Makes me wanna wrap him in a blanket and comfort him so bad.

I simply adore the recurring imagery with the porch light. Not sure if this was intended, but I thought the way they saw each other, for the first time, even past the blinding headlights of his car was great foreshadowing of their bond.

The dialogue. Wow, that was very well done! She's incredibly forward (good for her lol), and Logan was perfect, I could imagine him saying all that so vividly.

“Think about it,” you offer as you open the door and slip out of the limo. “Door’ll be open.” 

Like, I'm sorry? That's flirty as fuck, I love it! And the fact that she knows he can't resist. Even that whiskey bit was cheeky as hell.

“I ain’t human.” Your eyes flick to his as you drop his right hand and reach for his left. “You’re human where it counts,” you say, beginning to massage his hand.  Logan scoffs. “Yeah? And where’s that?” You release his hand and place your palm in the center of his chest, your fingers splayed over his heart. “In here.”

That made me tear up. It was so heartfelt and honest, that poor man needs to hear all this from time to time (or all the time). And that entire breakup scene tore my soul to shreds. But it was totally justified for her to react that way and not put up with his behaviour. Also, Charles hitting Logan with a much-needed life lesson (and water) was great lmao

Oh, and the smut? Yeah, I re-read that twice cause that was quite simply exquisite.

As he drives away, he catches one last look at you in the rearview mirror and he’ll spend the next few months wishing he told you—he feels you too. 

The way my smile slowly disappeared after that line. Genuinely, I was like: Oh no, what the fuck is happening.

“You kept the light on,” he husks, unable to keep the break out of his voice.” Your lips quirk into a soft smile. “I always will, Logan.”

The ending was so beautiful! Tying in the plot from the movie, and introducing Laura? Oh. My. Heart!!! I just know they'll be perfect for each other.

Lub, this was definitely your best work. I'm so content right now, and I'll be dreaming of this gorgeous little world you've created. Thank you so much for cooking up this treat <3

Come A Long, Long Way

SYNOPSIS: His days are long and his nights are longer. He comes to you during those hours when the rest of the world stills, lured in by something almost like fate. 

PAIRING: Old Man Logan x fem!reader 

WC: 12.2k

WARNINGS: smut 18+, mdni; angst; swearing; non-explicit mentions of wounds, scars and healing; gratuitous sexual tension; mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption; dirty talk; frottage; nipple play; surprise appearance by Charles; oral (f receiving); fingering; unprotected p in v; sex with feelings; cowgirl; mating press; creampie; brief mentions of Laura; happy ending because I said so

A/N: The idea for this story came to me through a song--My Fair Lady by Kaleo. I was struck by this verse: I'm weary from my travels // I've come a long, long way // I haven't felt a woman // Since last that I was here // Oh, won't you bring me whisky // And run your fingers through my hair? // Oh, won't you whisper sweet words // Oh, so softly in my ear? I thought, "Wow, that's so Old Man Logan" and this is what I birthed from that. This may be one of my favorite things I've ever written, and I sincerely hope you think so too. Huge, huge thank you to @yxtkiwiyxt for betaing this for me and making the final draft what it is; you helped end this in such a beautiful way. Thank you to @saradika for the use of her graphics. And as always, I hope you enjoy this and any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

He shouldn’t care about the car pulled over on the side of the road, hazard lights blinking as the rain pours down. 

For three days, Logan’s entertained a rowdy bachelorette party, chauffeuring them from bar to bar, dinner to dinner. The scent of cheap perfume and desperation still linger inside the limo, the drunken, whispered advances still burn against his skin. 

He’s tired. Exhausted down to his very marrow and he wants nothing more than to crawl onto his sagging mattress and steal whatever amount of sleep his shattered mind will give him. 

So, no. He shouldn’t care about the car. 

But he finds himself easing off the gas, the limo starting to slow as he nears. He feels drawn, like a month to a flame, as if some unseen force has wound itself around his sternum and is pulling him forward. 

Pulling him to you. 

As the limo approaches, he spots you crouched down by the front left tire, struggling with a lug wrench, the tool slipping in your rain-soaked fingers. He can almost hear the curses spilling from your lips as you glance up and look towards where he’s sitting. 

Logan knows you can’t see him, not well anyway with the headlights shining directly upon you and the rain pouring down in sheets, but he swears you find his gaze, your eyes seeming to pierce down directly to his soul. He feels the flutter of something deep in his chest and he feels exposed, like a raw wound that hasn’t quite healed. 

For a moment, he hesitates, and wonders if you’re a siren, out here in your element to lure him to his death. Then your gaze drops and the thought dissolves but only just. Before he can talk himself out of it, Logan’s throwing the car in park and opening the door. 

The rain is frigid, the cold biting at his skin as the downpour soaks him down to the bone. You glance up at him as he approaches, your fingers loosening around the wench but still keeping it firmly in your grasp. Straightening up, you push wet strands of hair out of your face, your fingers trembling from the cold. 

“Need a lift?”

He doesn’t know why he asks. What he should do is swap out the old tire for the spare and let you go on your way. But those eyes of yours are piercing him again, the hook you’ve sunk deep in his sinew pulling taut once more and Logan feels compelled to take you home. 

For a few moments, you continue to silently assess him, your gaze flitting between your car, the limo behind him and back to his now soaked frame. Then, you stand and open the driver’s side door, tossing in the wrench and pulling your purse close to your chest. You follow him to the limo and climb into the backseat as Logan slips back in behind the wheel. 

He glances back at you through the rearview mirror, watching as you lean back into the seat, your wet clothes clinging to every curve of your body. Which is another thing he shouldn’t care about and yet…

Clearing his throat, he turns up the heat. “Where you headed?”

“North. About twenty miles or so.”

Logan nods and shifts the car into drive, heading back down the road as the rain continues to come down. Several minutes pass in silence, save for the rhythmic thump of the windshield wipers. Finally, your voice breaks through the silence, soft and lilting. 

“Got a name?”

“Who’s asking?”

A half smile tugs at your lips as you slide from the seat and slip into the row directly behind the partition. Logan can feel the damp of your skin as you lean into his space, the scent of rain flooding his nostrils almost intoxicating. You say your name and wait for him to respond in kind.

“Logan,” he answers, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“Life hasn’t been kind to you, has it, Logan?” you ask, his name dripping from your lips like honey and just as sweet.

Logan stiffens, his grip tightening on the wheel as your words cut through the night. There’s no pity in your tone, which he’s silently grateful for, but an unsettling mixture of curiosity and understanding.

At the best of times, he doesn’t like anyone trying to scratch below the surface, to worm themselves into all the soft and vulnerable bits he tries so desperately to hide away. Now that he’s older and feeling every bit of his age, the weight of his bones threatening to drag him down with each step, he likes it even less.

“It’s not kind to anyone,” he answers, turning his head just enough to glance sideways at you. 

You tilt your head slightly, a wordless noise humming in your throat. “Maybe,” you concede, voice soft, like you’re mulling over his words. “Except your life has carved itself into you a little more than most.”

He wants to be annoyed, to slam his foot on the brake and send the limo careening into reverse back towards your broken down car. But something stirs in him, thrumming in time with the pulse beating in his veins—a spark of irritation mixed with that pull that’s been gnawing at him since he first saw you. 

“You a therapist or somethin’?”

You chuckle softly, the sound low and intimate, as you lean back into the seat, finally putting some space between you. “No. Just intuitive.”

“Yeah?” He looks up at you through the rearview mirror with a scowl. “Intuit less. Just tell me where I’m goin’.”

A soft, chiding “tsk” falls from your lips and you shake your head, but Logan doesn’t miss the smile playing on your lips. You give him directions to your house and for moment you both sit in silence but the air remains heavy with unspoken tension. 

Logan pulls off the highway, beginning to wind through the smaller streets of the town as he gets closer to your place. The thought of this ride ending, of you leaving this car, both thrill and disappoint him. 

“You believe in fate?”

The question cuts through the silence, pulling Logan’s focus back to you. He glances at you briefly, your expression thoughtful as you wait for him to answer. 

“No,” he finally says, voice flat. 

A soft hum escapes your throat. “Unsurprising. But don’t you think, Logan,” you begin, leaning back into his space, “that maybe fate is what brought us together?”

You have that knowing look in your eye again, a sly smile tugging at your lips. As if you’re in on some cosmic secret he’s not privy to. It unnerves him. 

But it intrigues him, too. 

“I think a broken down car brought us together.”

“Or maybe life decided to be kind to you,” you challenge. “To bring me to you.”

Logan turns into a quiet subdivision as your words rattle around in his brain. The rain has mostly subsided, but is still falling in a gentle drizzle as he pulls up in front of your house, a single porch light illuminated in welcome. It looks small, yet homey, the kind of place he could have seen himself in once if life had been kinder to him. 

“You should come in,” you say as you gather your belongings. “Get out of those wet clothes.”

Your eyes meet his again through the review mirror, a mischievous glint in your gaze and an even more sinful smile on your lips. 

It’s been a while since he’s been with anyone. The thrill of finding a partner for the night having lost its luster around the time his bones started to ache. More often than not, his sexual escapades involve his own calloused hands and memories from when he was a younger man. 

“Think about it,” you offer as you open the door and slip out of the limo. “Door’ll be open.” 

Logan sits, hands gripping the steering wheel, contemplating whether or not to follow you into the house.

Your offer is tantalizing, ripe for the picking, and the baser part of himself wants to accept—follow you into sin. You’ve already injected yourself into his veins, he might as well see the high through. 

The rational part of his brain knows he should leave, throw the limo in reverse and tail it back to the life he’s carved out for himself in the desert. Experience has hardened him, left him unable to, or maybe unwilling to, open himself to others. He doesn’t need whatever it is you think you can offer him, no matter how alluring and sweet your words may be. 

The weight of his wet clothes against his skin begins to feel almost suffocating and with a low curse under his breath, Logan steps from the limo and follows the path you took up the porch and into the house.

A trail of water leads from the front door to a small laundry room just off the foyer and then damp footprints lead deeper into the house. He can hear the low rumble of a dryer as he steps further into the space, the squeak of his shoes against the hardwood doing nothing to hide his approach. 

Logan finds you in the kitchen, lights dimmed low, standing in only a pair of mismatched underwear, the damp fabric barely concealing what’s underneath as you gently swirl a glass of whiskey. A second, untouched glass sits next to your hip on the counter. 

“You seem like a whiskey man,” you say, your smile curving around the glass as you take a slow sip. “Did I get it right?”

Stopping in the doorway, he flexes his hands at his sides, and wills himself to move—forward, backward, he’s not quite sure. The muted light catches along your curves, the damp sheen of your skin enticing, the dark outline of your nipples and curls between your thighs acting like a beacon. Logan can feel himself hardening against his slacks. 

He can smell you—bright and earthy and wholly intoxicating. Your heartbeat echoes in his ears, quick, but steady, betraying no fear. 

“If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done it by now,” you say and he has half a thought to wonder if you can read his mind. 

A sly smile spreads across your face as his eyes finally meet yours, a knowing edge to your expression that further sets him off balance. 

“What’s happenin’ here?” Logan finally rasps, his voice low and rough. 

You give a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders as you grab the glass next to you and take a step towards him, your movements slow yet deliberate. He doesn’t move, rooted to the spot as you approach him. 

“That’s up to you,” you reply, handing him the glass. “You can get out of those wet clothes and enjoy this whiskey with me, or,” you pause to step closer, “you can walk back out that door and pretend like you weren’t curious about what’s waiting for you here.”

Logan’s fingers grip the glass in his hands just a little too tight as you stare up at him, holding his gaze a beat longer than necessary. You’re challenging him, daring him to act, and he knows the minute he breaks, he’s done for. He won’t be able to stop. 

You risk another step closer, leaving barely a breadth of space between you. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, can smell the rain on your skin, as your closeness overwhelms his senses. He wants to drown in you. 

“What’s it gonna be?” you ask in a whisper, your fingers trailing along the edge of his belt buckle. 

Your touch and proximity ignites something primal in him, something he thought long extinguished. Logan can feel pure want, need, surge through his veins and lick flames along his skin. His free hand moves on instinct, wrapping around your wrist, halting your teasing fingers before they venture any further. His restraint is hanging by a thread, fraying and threatening to snap.

“You sure this is what you want?” His voice is low, all gravel and grit as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened by a hunger begging to be fed.

Your lips curve into a slow, knowing smile as you press yourself fully against him, soft and warm. Rising up onto the balls of your feet, you drop your gaze to his lips before flicking your eyes back up to his and ghosting your mouth along his jawline. “Stay with me,” you whisper, sliding your hand up his chest. “Just this once.”

Logan’s restraint snaps. The glass tumbles from his hand, shattering against the floor, but neither of you seem to notice. His hand moves to the small of your back, wanting to press you impossibly closer as his lips crash into yours, hot and demanding. 

You respond in kind, a whimper dying in your throat as your fingers tangle in his damp hair, urging him closer. A growl tumbles from his lips as he trails his mouth down your neck, nipping and tasting as he goes, his tongue finding your pulse point and sucking. His hands roam freely, his calloused fingers sliding over your smooth flesh, palming your hips and gripping you as if you’re the only thing grounding him to earth.

He feels alive. Every cell in his body hums beneath your touch, the constant aches and pains temporarily erased. You’re a balm to his very soul, smoothing the ever deepening cracks and making him feel whole. 

You gasp as he nips at a spot just below your ear and he smirks against your skin, the sound spurring him on. “Tell me where your room is, or I’m fuckin’ you right here on the table,” he husks, his voice thick with desire, breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

Pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your lips swollen and eyes dark, you reach for his hand and wordlessly lead him past the living room and down the small hallway to your room. Once inside, he pulls you back towards him, mouth slanting back over yours, stealing the very air from your lungs. 

His cock is almost painfully hard as he walks you towards the bed, only pulling his mouth away from yours as your knees hit the edge of the mattress. Instead of sitting back on the bed, you reach for the buttons on his shirt, easing them open before sliding the fabric from his shoulders. There’s an eagerness to your movements, your fingers fumbling with his belt buckle as he sheds his undershirt and tosses it somewhere behind him. 

Logan watches with a hooded gaze, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, as you shove his pants down his legs, barely getting them past his knees before you’re reaching for the waistband of his boxers.

His fingers curl around your wrist, halting your movements and you gaze up at him, licking your lips. “Slow down, sweetheart,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “We have all night.”

A shiver runs through you and then his mouth is on you again, hungry and all-consuming. He drinks you in like a man parched, lips and teeth mapping the curve of your jaw, the solid edge of your collarbone as your pretty little moans and gasps fill the air. You tilt your head back and offer yourself to him, your hands grasping at his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle to keep him close.

His hands are rough against your skin as he slides them up your sides, tracing the soft, damp skin below the band of your bra. Unfastening the clasps, he trails the fabric down your arms, his eyes darkening as he finally takes in your bare breasts.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice dripping with raw want.

Any final restraint he has evaporates and he kicks the last of his clothes off before tightening his hands around your waist and setting you down on the bed. Logan steals the gasp from your mouth as his body covers yours, easing himself between your thighs and thrusting once against your clothed cunt.

He cups your jaw, thumb stroking over your bottom lip, pulling it down just enough to wet the skin. “Last chance,” he husks, his breath fanning across your lips. “Last chance to stop before I ruin you.” 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just hard enough to elicit a growl, his teeth bared. A sinful smile spreads across your face. “Oh, Logan,” you coo, “who says I’m not going to ruin you?”

Logan lets out a deep, guttural sound, something between a growl and a groan before he slots his mouth back over yours and follows you into temptation.  

“Figured you’d try and sneak out.”

Logan whirls around at the sound of your voice, claws slowly unsheathing from between his knuckles. Blood wells up from the wounds, dripping between his fingers as he finds you dressed in an oversized shirt, the hem just concealing the edge of your panties. Your expression belies no fear as you take in the metal jutting out between his skin, your eyes alight with an acceptance he’s not use to. 

Fear, disgust, repulsion, but rarely acceptance. 

Slowly, he retracts his claws as you move further into the kitchen, stopping at the sink to grab and moisten a washcloth before coming to stand in front of him. Logan instinctively pulls away from your touch, but you’re undeterred, taking his hands in yours and wiping the blood away from his skin. Your movements are gentle, taking care to avoid the still healing slits.

Washed of blood, you finally glance up at him. “You can stay, you know.”

“I’m not the stayin’ kind, sweetheart,” he mutters.

One of those slow, knowing smiles tugs at your lips as you release his hands and Logan actually mourns the loss. “We’ll see,” you say with a shrug, stepping back just enough to put space between you. “I don’t think fate is done with us yet.”

Your words hang in the air like smoke, curling around him and pressing into his skin. He wants to argue, the words burning on his tongue, but he doesn’t. Because despite his earlier claims that he didn’t believe in fate, he can’t deny the unnatural pull you have on him. A pull Logan doesn’t necessarily dislike.

At his silence, you lean up and press the faintest of kisses to the corner of his jaw. “I’ll leave the light on for you,” you whisper into his skin.

It’s then he knows—he won’t be able to stay away. 

Logan shows up at your door again two weeks later. 

He’s been driving around some bigwig CEO, chauffeuring him from conference to conference during the day and dropping him off at random hotels during the night. When he gives Logan the address to tonight’s hotel, Logan knows instantly he’s in trouble. Just his luck the hotel is in your town. 

Pulling off the freeway, he feels that familiar tug behind his ribs. His hands itch with the want, the need, to turn the wheel towards you instead of the address on his GPS. Since that night, you’ve haunted him, your face showing up in his dreams, waking with the sensation of your softness burning into his skin. 

Logan knows he could stay at the hotel or sleep in the back of the limo like he’s done so many times before. But as he slowly inhales at his cigar and waits for Mr. CEO to stop fingering his mistress in the back seat and get the fuck out, the need to be near you only grows stronger. 

And damned if he knows why. 

He doesn’t need a relationship, or whatever the hell this is. Enough of him has been spread to others, for better or worse, and he’s already worn thin. The last remnants of any family he has are hanging off a very precarious ledge and he can’t bear the heartache of more loss if he opens himself to you. 

But as much as Logan keeps telling himself he’s closed off, fortified against anything new, he can feel himself bleeding through the cracks. 

By the time he finally turns down your street, it’s well past a respectable visiting hour. Most houses are dark for the night, but not yours. The front porch light illuminates just like it did two weeks ago and the dim lights of the kitchen shine through the pulled blinds. You’re up and a frisson of anticipation shoots through him. 

He parks the limo and stamps out the cigar before walking up your driveway. As he approaches the door, he hesitates. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. While your final words to him were open ended, did that give him the right to just show up in the middle of the night? 

You open the door as he contemplates and when his gaze finally focuses on you, he relaxes. A well worn robe is tied around your waist, your hair tied up in a messy bun, your face cleaned of makeup and yet you’re more alluring to him than you were that night in the rain. 

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he confesses, stepping just a bit closer towards you. 

A slow, soft smile spreads across your face. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually,” you reply. You open the door to allow him entrance and he steps in after you. 

Logan follows you into the kitchen, where you already have a glass of whiskey ready for him. Handing him the glass, you nod your head towards the living room. “Come. Relax for a bit.”

He follows you into he living room, the single lamp casting a soft glow within the space. You settle onto the sectional, tucking your legs beneath you and turning yourself towards him as he joins you. For a moment, neither of you speak, but the silence isn’t awkward—it’s comfortable, like it always is around you. 

“You look tired,” you say, finally breaking the quiet. Your voice is soft, a sense of familiarity laced in with your words, as if you understand the magnitude of his fatigue.

Logan huffs as he swirls the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light. “Honey, I’m always tired,” he replies. “Comes with the territory.”

You give a small hum, your head tilting to the side as you assess him. “You’re in pain, too.”

Logan freezes at your words, his eyes flicking up to your face. His gaze locks with yours, sharp and guarded, like you’ve peeled back a layer he wasn’t ready to expose. And yet, you’ve been doing this since the beginning. Finding the cracks in his facade and wedging yourself in until the gap widens, uncovering the raw nerves underneath.

“What makes you say that?” he asks, his tone challenging.

You gaze remains steady and calm, holding a softness that unnerves him more than the question itself. “Because it’s written all over you,” you say simply. “I see it in your scars, in the way your hands are always clenched, as if steeling yourself against a blow that’ll never come.”

Logan exhales a low, humorless laugh before taking a long sip of whiskey, relishing the burn as it slides down his throat. “Don’t even notice it anymore,” he lies, shifting in his seat. 

Your mouth tugs into a gentle frown as you shift, crawling closer to where he sits. You pluck the glass from his fingers, swallowing down the rest of the whiskey before setting it on the coffee table. Logan watches as you swing your legs over his lap, your robe riding up to reveal the smooth expanse of your thighs. 

The weight of you against his lap sends a rush of arousal down his spine and he can feel his cock stir in his slacks. If you notice, you ignore it, instead reaching for a small bottle of lotion on the end table and squeezing a dollop into your palm. You rub your hands together twice before reaching for his right hand. 

Your thumbs dig into the meat of his palm, a low groan slipping from his throat before he can stop himself. You bite your lip, but Logan can see the sly smile beneath. 

“You help take care of everyone else,” you begin, rubbing the lotion further into his calloused palms. “Who helps care for you?”

Logan feels flayed open, that pull that spins him into your orbit only growing stronger as you see down to his very soul. Caliban swore you weren’t a mutant but Logan still couldn’t shake the idea that you were something more. 

“What are you?” he asks, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, watching you concentrate on his hand. 

You slide your fingers along the pink, puffy lines between his knuckles, a slow hiss escaping between his teeth as you massage the tender flesh. He wonders if you know how sensitive his skin is now, how each time his claws come out it hurts just a little bit more than the last time. 

“I’m human,” you reply, positioning his hand to focus on the back, tracing the fine scars there. “Same as you.”

“I ain’t human.”

Your eyes flick to his as you drop his right hand and reach for his left. “You’re human where it counts,” you say, beginning to massage his hand. 

Logan scoffs. “Yeah? And where’s that?”

You release his hand and place your palm in the center of his chest, your fingers splayed over his heart. “In here.”

He swallows hard, his gaze dropping to where your fingers are resting against him. You touch him like you’re unafraid, undeterred by the metal in his bones and the sometimes primal rage that courses through his blood. His killed—for the sake of war, self preservation, and for reasons not so innocent—but you can somehow still see past that, to some soft part of him that still lingers. 

Logan itches to touch you, to pull you closer and—

“You can touch me,” you say, as if pulling the thought from his head. “I like when you touch me.”

Logan slides his palms up your thighs and around your hips, pulling you flush against his lap, your clothed center pressing against the fly of his slacks. He doesn’t miss the gasp that falls from your lips or the shift of your hips as you try and press closer. 

That thrum of aliveness begins to churn in his veins as he slowly unties the sash of your robe, allowing the fabric to fall to the side. You’re bare underneath and Logan can’t help but lean forward and press a kiss to the center of your chest. 

“You dress like this jus’ for me?” he asks, dragging his lips towards your breast and pulling a nipple into his mouth, working into a taut peak beneath his tongue.

Your fingers wind themselves into his hair, holding him close. “Yes,” you breathe, a whimper falling from your lips as he moves to your other breast. “Only for you.”

A surge of possessiveness rushes through his veins and Logan can feel the prickle between his knuckles, his claws threatening to unsheathe at the thought of you with another man. Instead, he doubles his focus onto you, his beard scraping against your skin as he licks a hot stripe across your nipple. “Damn right, only for me,” he growls. 

You shift your hips in response, seeking more friction against the hard length of his cock pressing against you. Logan groans, his fingers digging deeper into the flesh of your hips, urging you to move against him. The soft, wet heat of your cunt through the thin fabric of your panties and his slacks sets his control on a razors edge. 

Logan leans back slightly to lock eyes with you, your pupils blown wide with want, your skin flushed with desire. You find his gaze, hazy with pleasure, but focused and then you smile at him, bottom lip pinned between your teeth. 

“And you, Logan,” you whisper, your hands sliding down the column of his neck, “you’re only for me.” 

That hook you’ve lodged in him sinks deeper and he’s too far gone to care. The mystery behind your presence in his life is one he’s willing to spend the rest of his days unraveling so long as you stay right here, continuing to bewitch him with the beauty of your soul. 

Your allure was more potent than any pheromone, more intoxicating than any aphrodisiac. In his waking moments, Logan found his thoughts drifting to you more often than not and the frequency between his visits grew shorter and shorter until he found himself lured into your embrace almost every night. 

He was good at lying to himself, writing off these visits as nothing more than comfort—the need to find warmth in a world that so seldom offered him that luxury. But that lie grew bitter, warped in the liminal space between midnight and dawn where you stripped him down to his very bones, saw through the gruff and grit he wrapped himself in. Saw him as something more than the sum of his sins. 

Logan couldn’t hide from you and he didn’t know if he wanted to. Those carefully crafted walls that surrounded him cracked and crumbled, turning to dust at his feet. In that mysterious way of yours, you always knew what he needed—a warm meal; your tender, healing touch as you helped him stitch the worst of his wounds; the soft, pliant feel of your skin on his as you kissed him deep, the kind of kiss that burned like wildfire and whiskey.

God help him as your gravity pulled him in closer, your orbits circling tighter and tighter, destined for an inevitable crash. 

“What am I to you?”

Those five words root him where he stands, flaying him down to his very marrow. Logan should have expected this question, should have known that eventually you’d ask. 

He wants to tell you the truth, speak those words that burn against his tongue, begging to be said.

He wants to tell you of his need to find you when the days are long and the nights are longer. When the weariness he feels in his bones aches more than usual and seems to bleed into his very soul. 

When he needs to feel something more than the hollowness that seems to grow inside his chest. The slow carving away of his humanity that’s been scraping closer and closer to emptiness for years. 

When he needs to be wrapped in warmth and set afire by something almost like love. Like home. 

But he says none of this as he gazes over at you sitting at the kitchen table, one knee pulled up to your chest. You look small sitting there, vulnerable in a way he hasn’t seen before. 

And instead, he remains silent, praying you’ll let the conversation slide. But he knows better. 

You glance up at him, your gaze piercing straight through the heart of him and then you devastate him with three simple words. 

“I love you.”

The air punches from his lungs and for a moment it feels like he’s forgotten how to breathe. Your words tear through him, cutting deeper than any knife, and his hands curl into fists as you slice him open. 

“Don’t,” Logan rasps, his voice rough, barely more than whisper. He avoids your eyes, knowing that if he looks and sees the sincerity in your gaze, it’ll be his undoing. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Your voice cracks with emotion as you push away from the table, your arms wrapping around yourself. “What about those words can’t you hear?”

His jaw clenches and for every step you take closer him, he takes a half step back, as if he’s trying to distance himself from the truth beginning to swirl between you. You can’t love him. Loving someone has brought him nothing but misery and pain, loss and suffering and he’ll be damned if he drags you down that road. 

So, instead he lies, the words bitter in his mouth. 

“This ain’t love, sweatheart,” he says, gesturing between the two of you, “This is fuckin’.”

You inhale sharply between your teeth and your expression twists into disbelief, the beginning of tears welling in your eyes. “Fucking?” you bite back, your voice trembling but still firm. “You think after all these months that this is just fucking?”

Logan doesn’t answer. And he doesn’t move. He simply stands there, jaw clenched so tightly he could shatter bones. He can’t say yes. If he does that, if he voices that lie into existence, he’ll have to spend the rest of his days remembering the look in your eyes right now—destroyed. 

Your breath starts to shudder as you continue to step closer towards him. And he can feel you, warm and comforting, even though you shake with barely contained anger. “Look me in the eye and tell me that’s all this is,” you demand, your voice thick with emotion. “Tell me that when you come to me in the middle of the night, broken down, bloody and bruised, it’s just fucking. Tell me that when I touch you, hold you, love you, that it means nothing.” 

He remain silent. 

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “God, for someone with heightened senses, you’re blind to what’s right in front of you.” Your trembling voice matches the shake to your hands, your fury pouring off you in waves. “You really are a coward, aren’t you?”

Logan nostrils flare at the insult and he can feel the prickle of his claws between his knuckles. He knows his rage isn’t with you, but himself. And yet he can still feel his lips curl into a snarl. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he growls. 

“Oh, fuck you, Logan,” you seethe, your voice now raw, pain bleeding through every syllable. “You can’t even look me in the eye when you lie.”

His jaw clenches impossibly harder and he swears he can taste bone. Then, he finally meets your gaze head on, eyes flashing. “You think this ends well between us? You think I get to have somethin’ like this? Like you?” Logan’s voice cracks in a way that he loathes. “I can’t—”

The crack of your palm against his face is deafening. He barely moves from the impact, but emotionally you’ve landed him on his ass. Your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, unblinking.

Logan stands there, immobile, as he processes the sting of your slap. It doesn’t hurt, not physically. It’s the fact that you did it, the fact that you’re standing in front of him, chest heaving from the effort of your breathing as if you just ripped yourself open for him.

“Get out of my house,” you seethe, your voice softer than before, deflated.

Your words shouldn’t sting as much as they do. They shouldn’t wreck him and make him feel like he’s been ripped apart limb from limb. He should relish them, the push, the shove. He should revel in the confirmation that you’re finally seeing him for what he truly is—something undeserving of all the warmth and love you’ve given him. A stray animal that never should have been fed.

Logan swallows, his throat tight as he gives you a small nod. And then he does the only thing he knows how to do. 

He turns. And he walks.

His legs feel like lead, each step a feat and his brain is screaming at him to turn around. To fight. To beg. To plead. To say something, anything. 

But he doesn’t.

Logan exits the house, the front door slamming shut behind him. As he steps off the front step, the porch light above him clicks off, plunging the house into darkness. Your guiding light is gone, lost in the storm of his destruction.

Of all the wounds he’s ever taken, of all the scars that mar his skin, nothing has ever bled quite like this.

Charles watches with sharp eyes as Logan enters the old water tank and shuts the door behind him. The older man is in his wheelchair, tending to his plants as Logan walks around the place, picking up random bits of trash and the tray from breakfast. 

A soft “tsk” falls from Charles’ lips and echos in the small space. “Will you ever learn, Logan?” Charles’ voice seems tired, weary. 

Logan pauses and looks over at him, irritation already prickling along his skin. “Stay outta my head,” he snaps, slamming the tray down on a nearby table. 

He doesn’t need this, doesn’t want Charles sifting through his mind, seeing those pieces of you he so deeply cherishes. Pieces he doesn’t deserve. Pieces he doesn’t know if he’ll ever have within his grasp again. 

“She loves you,” Charles continues, seeming to ignore his request. 

Logan strides over to where Charles is sitting, unable to keep the ire from boiling over. He wants to sweep all the plants to the floor, destroy the one creative outlet Charles has, retaliate for the way he presses into the fresh bruises on his mind. “I’m begging you, just—”

Charles lifts the spray bottle beside him and directs the spray in Logan’s face, showering him in a fine mist of water. Logan freezes, water dripping from his face as his lips tighten in a thin line. He grits his teeth, an ache already blooming in his jaw. 

“What the fuck was that for?” he growls. 

“Are you a cat?” Charles asks, lowering the bottle. “No? Then stop being such a pussy.”

Logan stares at Charles, the vulgarity of the of man’s words leaving him temporarily speechless. He scrubs a hand down his face, wiping the rest of the water off with the sleeve of his shirt, scowl deepening. 

“You’re pushin’ it,” Logan warns. 

Charles simply smirks, finally setting the bottle down on the table. “Someone should. God knows you won’t push yourself. Not when it comes to matters of the heart.”

Logan sucks in a sharp breath and steps back from Charles, sitting down on the bed across from him. The old metal springs groan beneath his weight. He wants a bottle of whiskey, to quiet the thoughts in his head, at least temporarily, and fall into a drunken stupor. Anything but flaying open his feelings, especially his feelings about you. 

“What are you so afraid of?” Charles asks gently. “That she’ll see all your broken pieces?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Charles raises his eyebrow. “No? Logan, she’s already seen them. She knows what you are and she’s still here.”

“That’s not the point!” Logan roars, his voice echoing off the metal walls. His breathing comes out in short gasps and he knows he needs to rein himself in. Not only for himself but for Charles. It doesn’t take much to trigger a seizure these days and he doesn’t need the stress of this conversation to become a catalyst. 

Charles remains quiet, expression calm and Logan hangs his head, his voice softening into something raw. “It’s not about what she knows. It’s about who, about what, I am. I don’t deserve her.”

Bracing his elbows on his legs, Charles leans forward, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. “She knows all that, Logan. And she chooses you. Every night you come to her, she chooses you. How can you not see that?”

Logan doesn’t respond, but the weight of Charles’ words hang heavy against his shoulders. He looks down at his hands, seeing the callouses and crisscrossing scars. His body is a physical map of violence, each faded pink line a story of pain, regret and death. 

But you’ve never seen them that way. You’ve only ever looked at them with reverence, traced your fingertips along each one and wondered about their stories. Made him feel whole instead of broken and used. 

“You have a choice to make, Logan,” Charles says, interrupting the silence. “Let her in…or keep running. Don’t make her choose for you.” 

For days, Logan’s mind is plagued by replays of his last moments with you and his conversation with Charles. His already sleepless nights are further tormented by dreams of you, the devastated expression on your face haunting him.

The memory of your face, the crack in your usually steadfast voice, the tremor in your hand after you struck him. They all play in a nauseating loop in his brain, punishing him in a way he’s never felt before.

His life reverts to autopilot—drink, fight, drive, but nothing quells the gnawing ache in his chest. He couldn’t stay in the smelting plant with both Caliban and Charles staring at him, watching his every move as if he were a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Charles was running out of medications, a few days supply left at most, and Logan knew he was better off leaving Charles in Caliban’s care than his own.

Now, he sits on the edge of a dingy motel bed, the scent of cheap whiskey and cigar smoke clinging to his clothes. His eyes are dry and heavy with exhaustion and his skin is itching with that familiar want to be near you. It started as an annoying tug, but has now grown into a maddening want.

He knows he should ignore it. But he was never that strong.

Before he can talk himself out of it, convince himself that this is an astronomically stupid fucking idea, he’s on his feet, keys in hand and driving down those lonely roads towards you.

It’s late when he reaches your house, like it usually is, and he half expects the porch light to remain dark, a cold, bleak reminder of how badly he’s fucked up. Instead, he finds that single porch light illuminated, shining like a beacon of hope. Logan walks up onto the porch, but you don’t open the door like you’ve done so many times before. 

He contemplates leaving, turning around and getting back in the car and drinking himself into a semblance of sleep. But then he hears you, your heartbeat echoing beyond the wooden frame, as steady and as comforting as it’s always been. Logan pauses, wondering if he should try the knob and come inside—if you’ll even let him.

If you even should.

With a sigh, he lowers himself to the ground, his joints aching in protest as he rests his back against the door. “I’m not good at this,” he finally says, hoping you’re listening. “I’ve been alive for too long. Seen too much shit.” Logan pauses, his words burning in his throat. “I’ve lost too many people.”

He hears you shift behind him, your head thudding softly against the door as you listen. His relief is almost palpable knowing you’re there, that you’re at least willing to listen to him. Leaning back, Logan closes his eyes and exhales a heavy breath. “The only way I know how to keep people safe is to push ‘em away. And I need to keep you safe.”

The words feel foreign leaving his mouth, as if they’re uncovering a truth he’s long kept secret. He feels exposed in a way he’s not used to, raw and honest, and the truth of his words burns. Logan can still hear you on the other side of the door, your breathing slow and steady, yet laced with something—hesitation, maybe, or hurt. It makes his chest ache in a new and unfamiliar way. 

“I’m tired,” he continues, his voice softer. “I’m so fuckin’ tired, sweetheart. Tired of fightin’ when all I want—” Logan swallows hard. “All I want is you.”

The porch light hums above him, the night is alive with the chirping of crickets, but the silence that follows is almost deafening. 

Logan doesn’t deserve you, he knows that. You should turn him away, tell him to leave, to kick him back to the desert to lick his wounds alone. He doesn’t know how to be someone’s partner, their lover. He’s not sure if he ever has, really, too hung up on all the ways he paints himself as a bad man. Someone unworthy. 

Except with you, he finds himself wanting to fight. To prove he’s not as hard and unyielding as the metal bones inside him. That somewhere deep inside him there still lingers warmth and affection and the capacity to love. 

He’s bracing himself for the worst when he hears the faint sounds of the lock turning. The door creaks open and he shifts to look up at you. One of your well used blankets is wrapped around your shoulders, your hair tousled from sleep and your eyes are red and wet with unshed tears. Logan’s heart thuds heavily in his chest as you stand there and he turns to face you, pushing up onto his knees. Your expression is carefully masked, betraying little of your underlying emotions, and he carefully crawls forward, testing the waters of how close you’ll let him get.

His knees ache as he kneels on the hard concrete, but he’d crawl through glass if you asked him to. Slowly, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to him as he nuzzles his face into the softness and warmth of your belly. Your comforting scent floods his senses as he waits for your anger, your rejection.

Instead, you sigh, a long pent up breath released in a steady exhale and your fingers sink into the disheveled hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close to you. “You’re an asshole,” you finally say, though your tone lacks any venom or spite.

Logan feels it then, the tension slowly easing from your body as you allow him to sink further into your frame. His heart lurches his chest, the faintest flicker of hope fluttering against his ribs.

“Yes,” he mumbles into your shirt.

“You hurt me.”

He pulls back as you gently push at his shoulders and sink down to the ground in front of him. But you don’t push him away any further and instead, lace your fingers through his. “I should tell you to fuck off,” you continue, your eyes focused on where you’re touching him. “But I can’t.”

His voice comes out in a whisper. “Why?”

Your eyes meet his and your gaze pierces straight through his soul. “You know why.”

And he does. In truth, he thinks he’s always known, long before you ever spoke those three little words out loud. Words so simple, yet so profound. Words he rarely speaks, while others casually toss them around. Words he has rarely felt, but with you feel as natural as breathing, as the sun rising in east.

Words he’s still afraid to say, despite everything, despite every cell in his body screaming at him.

You look at him like you know, because of course you do. You’ve always known him, in that uncanny way of yours since he first saw you standing in the rain. So instead of ire or disappointment at his lack of response, you simply squeeze his hand, grounding him to your reality. 

“You don’t have to say it,” you whisper, your voice soft and steady. “Not yet.”

Logan looks at you, his brows furrowed. He can’t fathom what he’s done in this life to deserve you, your patience, your unwavering belief in him. “You make it hard not to,” he finally rasps, his voice rough and uneven. “Love you, I mean.”

The admission hangs heavy in the air, raw and jagged, much like him. It’s close to what you want to hear, but not quite. And yet he sees something warm and bright blossom on your face. 

You lean in, raising your free hand to lightly trace the curve of his jaw, scratching at the scruff there. “You’re a man of action, Logan,” you say, pressing in closer, your breath mingling with his. “Wanna show me instead?”

This—this is a language he’s fluent in. 

Using his lips, tongue, hands and cock to write on your body all the words he cannot say. He’s mastered your shape, the way your hips curve beneath his palm, the softness of your belly and breasts, the heat between your thighs stoked hotter only by him. He knows exactly where to press, where to nip and suck and tease to elicit all those pretty little moans and gasps of pleasure. 

Logan’s already drawn one orgasm out of you, his fingers still thrusting against you as you ride out your high, your thighs shuddering against his forearm. You’re flushed and breathy as you reach for him, urging him up from between your thighs.  

You pull him close, fingers sinking into his hair as you lick into his mouth, not caring that your slick still stains his beard and lingers against his tongue. He swallows your gasp as he knocks your knees apart and slots himself between your legs, his cock heavy against your belly. 

He wants you. In all the ways he can think of and not just like this, naked and pliant beneath him. He wants your sleepily whispered hellos each morning and your softly murmured goodnights each evening. He wants the warm, weighty press of your body against his as you sit on the couch beside him sipping whiskey. 

He wants, he wants, he wants. 

As his kisses grow more fervent, you grow impatient and push at his chest, urging him back. “Lie back,” you command softly, your breath damp against his lips, “Let me take care of you.”

He wants to protest, deny you this request. This is supposed to be about you, about using his body to show you all the things his words can’t say. He’d spend the whole night between your thighs, using his mouth, tongue and fingers to worship if you’d let him. But there’s something in your gaze that forces him to comply and he gives in, rolling onto his back. 

You straddle his thighs, your slick cunt sliding along the length of his cock. Logan groans and his hands reach for your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh as he encourages you to move. “This is s’pose to be about you,” he husks as you slowly begin to rock your hips back and forth. 

“Oh, it is,” you answer, licking your lips as you brace your hands on his chest. “Who else can get you hard and needy beneath them?”

A low growl escapes from his throat. “No one.”

A wicked smile curls at your lips as you drag your heat along him, the blunt head of his cock nudging your clit with every slow, deliberate rock of your hips. The sensation has his control unraveling and he slides his hands along your thighs to palm the curve of your ass. 

You press into his touch, continuing to roll your hips as you lean forward to press an open mouthed kiss to the corner of his jaw. “You see,” you murmur, “this is for me.”

Reaching between your bodies, you grasp him in your hand and line him up. Slowly, almost tortuously slow, you sink down on his cock, taking him inch by inch until he’s fully sheathed inside of you. A sharp inhale escapes him as your warm, tight walls surround him and Logan knows this feels different. 

This isn’t merely fucking anymore, the melding of flesh for the pure sake of pleasure, of briefly escaping the nightmare of his life, of finding solace in sin. You’ve somehow managed to bleed yourself into him, to wrap yourself around his heart. 

You feel as if you’re a part of him, lodged deep between his ribs and that if he were to try to remove you, he’d kill himself in the process. A part of him knows this feeling has always been there, back when you first entered his limo. The feeling threatens to choke him, to fill his love soaked lungs until all he can breathe is you. 

He loves you. 

Pure and unfiltered and it terrifies him. 

“I—fuck, I,” he chokes out, the words caught in his throat. “I feel—”

Your hands run over his chest, up along his collarbones, your fingers blazing a trail over his skin. “I know, Logan,” you whisper, your hips rocking languidly against his. 

He grips your thighs, almost tight enough to bruise, helping guide your movements, but also prove to himself you’re real. Logan’s chest heaves as he watches you ride him, your hips rocking harder, faster, dragging moans out of both of you. You lean back just enough to change the angle, driving him deeper and he bucks his hips, meeting your thrusts with a force that has you crying out his name.

And yet it’s not enough. He needs to wrap himself around you, twine his fingers through your hair and hold your mouth to his until he’s completely consumed you. His hands slide up your back towards your waist and he pulls you down against him, mouth hot and insistent against your neck as he continues to fuck up into you. 

In one fluid motion, Logan grips your thighs and flips you onto your back, pinning you beneath him, cock still sheathed deep within your cunt. You arch beneath him as he sets a brutal, devastating pace, the raw intensity of his movements stealing short, gasps breaths from your lips with each thrust. A shiver ripples through you as he draws a nipple into his mouth, his name tumbling from you like a prayer.

“Fuck, there it is,” he growls. “I love all those little sounds you make.”

His choice of word isn’t lost on either of you and your eyes meet his as your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving faint red crescents as you cling to him. “Logan,” you gasp, your voice trembling as he hits that soft spot deep inside you. “More.”

“You want more?” he rasps, gripping your thighs and pulling them higher around his waist. The new angle has you crying out, the sound echoing in the room as he continues to slam into you with a force that has the bed creaking beneath you.

“Ah, fuck, yes,” you moan, your head tipping back. 

Logan takes advantage of your offering, his lips and teeth marking a path down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin in a way that’s sure to leave a burn come the morning. There’s a possessiveness to his touch, a need to claim you, to prove to you that this is all he needs—your embrace, your warmth, your love.

“You’re so fuckin’ good to me,” he growls against your skin, his hand sliding down between your bodies and finding where you’re joined. He can feel himself pounding into you, your combined arousal coating his fingers as he finds your clit and begins to rub in tight circles. “So goddamn perfect. You were made for me, sweetheart, you know that?”

Your cunt flutters around him and he knows you’re close, your thrusts against him growing erratic. He feels his own impending release, but he needs you to come first, needs to feel you shatter against him. His fingers press more firmly against your clit and with a breathy moan, your body tenses, back arching off the bed as your orgasm crashes into you.

“That’s it,” Logan groans, his own thrusts faltering as he feels you tighten around him, pulling him in deeper. “Look at you, comin’ so pretty for me.” He slows just enough to prolong your release, his thrusts deliberate as he draws out every ounces of pleasure until you’re trembling beneath him. 

It’s overwhelming—the sensation of you beneath him, around him; the cling of your fingers to his shoulders; the warm, damp breath against his neck; the absolute perfection of this moment right now. In all his years on this earth, he’s never experienced anything like this. The desire to completely consume someone, body and soul, and be consumed return. He wants his dying breath to be your name.

Something inside of Logan snaps, and as you try and catch your breath as you come down from your high, he presses your legs higher, folding you beneath him in a way that has his cock pressing deeper than before. The change has you whimpering and he looks down to find your expression as wrecked as he feels. He pauses his thrusts just long enough to grasp both your wrists and pin them above your head before he picks up his pace again, fucking into you with an almost ruthless intensity.

“I love you,” he growls, his thrusts growing erratic, his control quickly unraveling with every whimper and cry of his name. “God, I fucking love you.”

For a few moments, he doesn’t even realized what he’s said. Then he looks down at you, your gaze trained on his face and that soft, knowing smile of yours on your lips. “Logan,” you gasp, “I know. I’ve always known.”

Logan lets out a rough, shuddering breath, his entire body trembling with the weight of his confession. Any response he has dies in his throat as he presses his forehead to yours, his entire body wound tight. He’s so fucking close, can feel his orgasm coiling hot and tight in his gut, but it’s more than your warm heat drawing him in—it’s everything. 

“Tell me,” he grits out, his hips chasing, chasing, chasing that release.

You lean up as much as you can with your hands still pinned above you and lick an open mouthed kiss against his lips. “I love you, Logan.”

And that’s all it takes. He groans into your mouth as he finally lets go, his body tensing as his release crashes into him. He spills himself deep inside you, shallowly thrusting into your cunt as his rhythm slows.

Logan releases your hands, and for a long moment, there’s only the sound of heavy breathing, of heartbeats slowing, the two of you tangled in the aftermath.

Logan’s restless and unable to sleep despite your smaller frame tucked alongside him, the weight of your head resting against his chest. From his periphery, he can see his phone illuminating with unread texts, no doubt from Caliban urging his return. Charles has been deteriorating faster than Logan cares to admit, his mind gone more often than not, raving about new mutants. He needs drugs faster than Logan can procure them.

His mind churns, the reality of the outside world looming closer and he contemplates slipping from your grasp when you shift, curling yourself further into him. You don’t speak, not yet, but he can tell you’re alert, floating somewhere in that space between sleep and full wakefulness. Your fingers start to move of their own accord, the gentle pressure of your fingertips tracing over an old scar along his ribs, mapping out an old battle he no longer remembers. 

Beside him, his phone buzzes again and Logan sighs.

“Sounds important,” you murmur, voice thick with sleep.

He wants to keep ignoring it, stay wrapped in the quiet cocoon you’ve thrown around him, but Logan knows he can’t. It’s a cruel reminder of the chaos that plagues him beyond the sanctuary of your embrace. 

“You can go to him, Logan,” you continue, fingers never stopping their slow path along his skin. “I know you’ll be back.”

“How,” he starts, licking his dry lips, “how do you always know?”

Logan’s asked versions of this question before. You’ve always brushed him off, given a coy answer and steered the conversation towards something else. For a moment, he thinks tonight will be the same.

But then you answer.

“I can feel you,” you answer softly, your breath warm and damp against his skin. “I just—” You pause and turn to look up at him and then disentangle yourself from his embrace. “Stand up,” you urge, nudging at his side until he complies.

He blinks at you in confusion, but you just smile at him, soft and sleepy, and gently cup the side of his face. “Now, close your eyes.”

Logan does as he’s told, chasing after your touch as you step back from him, settling somewhere beyond him on the bed. “I’m going to move and you tell me where I am.”

The soft rustle of bedsheets follows and then, stillness. You’re quiet, but he can sense you, just off to his right, but too far away to touch. “My right, but farther back in the room.”

You move again, keeping your movements light. Again, he pinpoints you, this time towards his left, closer, but still too far away to grasp. “Left.”

A final movement, this time even closer, your proximity flooding his senses, sending a rush of warmth down his spine. Logan reaches out, finding the curve of your hips, hands tucking underneath the shirt you had slipped on earlier in the night, splaying his palms against your back. He opens his eyes and meets your gaze, alive in the predawn glow.

“How did you know?” you ask, looping your arms around his neck.

Understanding dawns on him, the answer so simple, yet so profound. Pinpointing where you were had nothing to do with his heightened senses and everything to do with just you—the way you’ve molded yourself to him like a second skin. “I could feel you,” he answers. “I could—I just knew.”

You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses against the corner of his mouth. Logan sighs into your mouth, his eyes fluttering close as you press your forehead to his. “It’s like that,” you whisper. “This undeniable pull, an invisible string that connects me to you and it tug, tug, tugs, until…there you are.”

His phone continues to buzz, growing more insistent as the soft blues and grays of the morning bleed into more golden hues. With a reluctance you both feel, Logan peels himself away, finally answering the phone with an irritation he doesn’t bother hiding. 

You watch him go, standing on the porch with the light casting a halo around your head. Your smile is gentle, but stained with worry and yet you remain stoic, the steady pillar holding up the fractured remains of his life.

As he drives away, he catches one last look at you in the rearview mirror and he’ll spend the next few months wishing he told you—he feels you too. 

The last one hundred miles have dragged on for eons, the road before him stretching into an almost infinite distance. Logan finds himself darting his eyes towards the dashboard clock, growing increasingly frustrated when the numbers move only a few minutes at a time, the slow passage of time seeming to taunt him. 

It’s been months since he saw you last, though no fault of his own. His memories are hazy—a swirling fog of confusion, pain and burning fever. He’s not even sure how he survived, whether it was modern medicine or sheer stubbornness. Or something more. 

You believe in fate?

Your words echo in his mind, soft and sweet, and he feels a familiar pang of longing in his chest. 

Fate or not, something kept a spark alive in him, pulsing through his veins with each sluggish beat as he slowly and painfully healed. His wounds are still pink and tender to the touch, more of his skin marred by death and destruction. 

As he turns into your subdivision, the night quiet, a cold, creeping anxiety snakes along his spine. What if you’ve given up on him? Figured this last absence was the real deal, all his idle promises of staying away finally coming to fruition. 

But as Logan drives down your street, he sees it—the single porch light illuminating in the night. Acting like the beacon it’s always been, leading him safely to land. 

To you. 

Logan pulls into the driveway and shifts the truck into park. Turning in his seat, he glances back towards the young girl curled up on the backseat. Laura’s face is relaxed in sleep, her hands tucked protectively under her chin. She fell asleep several hours ago, the soft rhythm of the tires against pavement lulling her to sleep. 

Logan’s been many things in his life. Son, brother, fighter, friend. Lover. He never thought he’d add father to that list. While he can’t quite find it in him to call himself that just yet—even though Laura readily and easily calls him dad—he no longer denies the protectiveness he feels towards her.

Easing the door to the truck open, Logan steps out and gently shuts it behind him, loathe to disturb her just yet. 

Here he is showing up at your door like he always has—late, quiet, and carrying a heavy weight he feels only he can shoulder. His hand is poised to knock, knuckles clenched, but he pauses, unsure if he even has the right to be here. 

But then there you are, the front door opening to reveal your tired but relieved face, months of worry etched into your skin, your eyes already brimming with unshed tears. 

“Logan,” you breathe, pulling him gently by the wrist and leading him inside. You don’t ask why he’s there. He suspects you already know. 

The air inside the house is just as he remembers. Warm and inviting and laced with the faint, comforting smell of you. Logan inhales deeply, letting the scent settle somewhere in the parts of him that still feel alive, that thrum with the memory of your touch. 

Your fingers still linger against his wrist and he can feel the heat radiating from your body, but you’re not close enough. And yet, he’s afraid to reach out, pull you into his arms. Afraid of the pity or obligation you’ll feel to comfort him, to allay all his fears.

As if reading his thoughts, you gently cup the side of his face, your nails scratching along his jaw. Logan flinches slightly, his body so used to pain these past months he’s almost forgotten the tenderness of your touch. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he closes his eyes, a ragged breath falling from his lips and his head dips forward. 

“C’mere,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

For a moment, he doesn’t move, but then he slides his arms along your back, pulling you against him. You feel real and solid and alive pressed this close. Never one for overt physical touch, Logan’s surprised by how much he missed this—the simple act of just holding you. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he inhales deeply, his breath warm and damp against your skin. 

He doesn’t say anything, unsure where to even begin. The weight of his grief, his weariness, feels heavier than any burden he’s ever shouldered before and it’s almost desperate the way he clings to you. Like you’re the only thing tethering him to the earth. If you were to let go, he’d fall apart. 

Logan doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels the hot trail of tears against his cheeks. You run your fingers through his hair, murmuring soft reassurances as you hold him. 

“I couldn’t feel you, Logan,” you whisper into his neck. “Several days of just…nothing. I thought that—”

The words lodge themselves in your throat, but he knows what they are just the same. 

He pulls back just enough to look at you, your eyes glistening with tears that match the ones rolling down his weathered face. Your expression is marred with pain, raw and unfiltered, but also with a bright flicker of relief. 

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, voice rough with emotion. “I got dragged into some bad fuckin’ shit. I almost…we—”

You quiet him with a soft brush of your fingers against his lips. “It’s okay, Logan,” you whisper. “Tell me about it later. I’m just happy you’re home.”

Home. 

Logan gaze softens at your words, but guilt gnaws at him. He doesn’t deserve this—your unwavering faith in him, the patience you’ve shown him, the light you’ve been in his dark, endless nights. But here you are, giving him everything he’s never asked for but so desperately craved. 

“C’mon,” you murmur, dragging him from his thoughts, “Let’s get you settled.”

It’s well past two in the morning by the time Logan finally carries Laura into the house, tucking her comfortably into the guest bedroom. Turning from the bed, he finds you there, leaning against the doorframe. You reach for him, in that soft, gentle way you always do, and lead him into your bedroom. 

He doesn’t protest when you sit him down at the edge of the bed and begin undressing him. Kneeling before him, you unlace his boots and peel off his socks, setting them aside. With a slight press to his knees, you force his legs wider, slotting yourself between them. 

Despite the late hour, the weariness and fatigue tugging at his bones, Logan feels his cock twitch as your fingers brush underneath the hem of his shirt. 

It’s been so long since he’s felt you. 

He dreamt of you, in those fevered moments where he didn’t know where one part of his body began or ended. When his entire existence had been boiled down to raw nerves and sluggishly knitting flesh. Through the haze of pain, he wondered if he’d ever feel your kiss again, feel the frantic press of your fingers into his shoulders, feel the warm, wet heat of your cunt stretching around him. 

You toss the shirt aside and he can feel your gaze lingering over the new scars, the pink, raised lines of flesh that are still healing. With a reverence he’s not worthy of, you trace your fingertips along the three jagged scars from where X-24 had ripped into him. 

“What happened to you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper as you move to trace more of his scars. 

Logan tells you then about Pierce and the Reavers, about Laura and the other mutant children. His throat grows tight as he continues, relaying the loss of Caliban, Charles and the Munsons, and the final confrontation between himself and his clone. 

He tells you how Laura saved him. How her and the other children brought him to safety over the Canadian border. How he spent the next months fighting with every fiber of his being to knit himself whole. 

For you. 

You lean into him as he looks away, jaw tightening as he tries to shove down the memories of everything he’s lost. Your touch is light against his face as you trace the angle of his jaw, and reach up to press the lightest of kisses against his lips. 

Logan exhales into your mouth as you kiss him again, soft and tender and warm. You seem to breathe him in, imbue life into his weary flesh and reignite the spark he’s kept alive for you. 

He wants to do more—to pull you into his arms, to taste you, to fuck into you until he can’t breathe. But exhaustion pulls heavily on his bones, threatening to sink him. 

Logan knows you can feel his hesitancy because you keep kissing him softly, punctuating each press of your lips with whispered reassurance. Your fingers card through his hair as you lean back. “Just let me hold you?” 

Your voice cracks at your request and Logan can only nod, unable to deny you. You help him shuffle out of his pants before coaxing him further into the bed. He moves slowly and he knows you don’t miss the creaking of his joints, the soft groan of discomfort. 

Coming to rest on his side, you tuck into him, throwing a leg over his hips and pulling him close. He sighs into your touch, the weight of the last few months pressing just a little bit less as you press a kiss to the hollow of his throat. 

“Don’t leave me,” you whisper into his skin, soft and damp. 

Logan feels his heart clench at your words. He’s hurt you. He knows that. Not just inadvertently with his most recent disappearance, but all the other times, too. Those times when he ran, afraid of what your words and touch meant. Afraid to accept what you’ve always so freely given. 

His hand slips under the hem of your shirt, fingers splaying across your back. “You kept the light on,” he husks, unable to keep the break out of his voice.”

Your lips quirk into a soft smile. “I always will, Logan.”

[h8aaz]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . .

❝ 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 .ᐟ ❞

during a hunt, the winchesters were brutally thrown by a witch; their weapons flailing out of their grasps.

one of the weapons that was used during the battle was ruby's demon knife. and it landed closer to the witch than intended.

the witch hummed before casting an odd spell, the knife suddenly turned into a young woman— a naked one at that.

she pushed her palms against the ground; lifting herself up onto wobbly legs as her hands slowly scoured across her body. the boys groaned as they sat up, eyes wide and jaws slacked at the sight before them.

the girl's hands reached up to her breasts, letting go quickly and making them slightly bounce while she turned to face the duo on the ground.

"s..sam? dean?" she rasped out before shakily running to them, falling multiple times on her way there; giving up into a crawl.

she reached the two and pulled them into a hug. "are you guys okay? what's happening to me?!" she spoke quickly and fearfully, a small choke of a sob cracking out from her mouth.

the brothers awkwardly patted and soothed her smooth, bare skin on her back with their bloodied, dirt-covered and calloused fingers; the girl on the brink of hyperventilating while the boys had steadied breaths of shock.

they looked up to see the witch was long gone before shooting each other knowing and exasperated looks. "dammit! c'mon, let's getcha outta here." dean grumbled as he began to push the frightened knife-turned-girl off of his figure.

sam let out an exhausted sigh, "what are we gonna do now?" he asked as he assisted the other two up after getting up himself.

"i don't know, sammy, our knife isn't a friggin' knife anymore!" dean exclaimed angrily as his younger brother took his jacket off and wrapped it around the girl, shielding her— very nice— body from the cold, dark chill of the night.

dean stormed off to the impala after gathering the rest of their weapons, which thankfully were still weapons.

the girl stayed hip-to-hip with sam, feeling more comfortable with him due to his and her past owner's 'relationship' of sorts; though dean's rage over the situation also put her off.

she looked up at the younger and taller winchester with the most innocent, yet absolutely terrified, look he'd ever seen. "sam? sam, what's going on?" she sniffled, her voice wavering as she spoke.

sam's gaze turned down to her, catching the way the moonlight illuminated her features. he'd never seen a woman like her before. she was absolutely gorgeous, her tearful eyes making her seem like a lost puppy rather than a previous object that had killed multiple demons and more.

"i don't know yet," he spoke softly to her, afraid that if he used any normal way of speaking, he'd upset her more. "but i'll find a way to fix everything, okay? i promise." he gave her a gentle smile, his dimples showing the slightest indent.

she returned the small smile with her own; and if sam hadn't fallen in love with her beauty already, he sure as hell did now.

nodding, she examined his features with a quick once over. "okay." she whispered, leaning into him as they walked to the car.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 .ᐟ

⛤ facts!

more coming soon . . .

GABS YAPS .ᐟ . . . HI I MADE A NEW READER LMFAOOOO. i haven't even posted yet alone FINISH the first part of sweetgirl!reader but let's not focus on that rn, yeah? IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS READER!!

she's inspired by @daylighted's baby!reader, where baby the car gets turned into baby the girl. i absolutely love their series for her and it got me thinking about ruby's knife + the angel blade— which i have posted here!!

special tags!: @j2archives @sunsbaby @dulcescorderitas @deansbeer @soldiersgirl @bejeweledinterludes @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @immodestly-marina @titsout4jackles

dividers were made by me!!

© 𝐇𝟖𝐀𝐀𝐙 — don't copy or repost without MY permission!!

[littelovelunette]

Would you do sev/reader and vi x reader whos scared to have sex cause of being molested as a child? If your uncomfortable totally understand. No pressure

Please read at your own discretion !!

Um, yeah, I can write that, I can relate to that trauma

You're Safe Now

UPSETTING THEMES, MILDLY ANGSTY, DONT READ IF YOU'RE TRIGGERED

Sevika

When Sevika learned that you were molested when younger for which you were so paranoid and scared of having sex, she felt something in her break. Something she didn't know existed within her before.

She felt like she was partially to blame although she wasn't. She wanted to be there when it happened, to beat the living daylights out of the person who did that to you.

That night, she held you close and forbade you from apologising to her about anything. "You didn't ruin anything, just— just, please, shhhh..." Sevika kissed your forehead and stroked your hair, staring at the sky as if questioning everyone in existence silently; why was it the angelic people that suffered?

Sevika could almost feel her eyes dampen but she forced herself to be strong for you. "I'm here. It will NEVER ever happen again."

"Sev..." You held her shirt, head slowly dipping onto her lap as you closed your eyes. Sleep was gnawing at your mind and all you wanted was to be in her arms and rest but you knew until the shock subsided Sevika wouldn't move fork the balcony floor where she sweated with you on her lap.

"Goodnight, my love, please don't be scared anymore," Sevika whispered outting her face in your hair and taking in the scent of your body.

She knew one thing for sure now. She'd never even let one another person look at you in the wrong way or even breathe wrongly in front of you after this.

Sevika couldn't afford losing you, you meant too much to her. Way too much. Sevika picked you up into her arms and transported you to the bed, tucking you in as she lit a cigarette for herself.

"Sleep," she whispered and pressed a kiss to your lips, it was gentle and soft.

"I'll be here when you wake up."

Vi

Vi's eyes teared up when you told her and she just hugged you in a bone crushing hug for hours, she stroked your hair and told you, "I won't ask you what he did. But if you wanna talk I'm here."

Vi was in so much shock and she couldn't bring herself to believe that someone who hurt an angel like you, someone so precious and beautiful and untouched.

"It's fine, it's been a long time after that happened and even if it does bother me from time to time and I think about it whenever I zone out," you explained, "It's not that bad as it was once."

Your words are soothing but Vi's thoughts can't help but race, wondering just how much pain little you had to endure to put something like that in the past.

Her heart clenched at the mere thought of someone touching you and making you feel pain or disgust. She couldn't even think about it anymore.

"Y'know what? I'm gonna— I'm gonna make us something to drink," she said as she got up, sniffling a little as she helps you to your feet.

Vi guided you to the kitchen and started cutting up strawberries and making milkshakes for the both of you but you could tell her mind was wandering.

"Vi," your hand rested on her lower back, "It's okay, it's been a while after that and I am still healing but it's okay. I'll be fine, I'm a big girl." You managed a small smile which made Vi's heart swell with pride.

"You're so strong," Vi pulled you close and kissed your head, "I love you so so much, my precious baby," she said as you wiped her tears.

"I love you too, my darling."

[sturnslutz]

back to friends.

angst, suggestive, friends with benefits, unresolved, being drunk, use of y/n wc: 1.7k listen to this song on repeat while reading.

matt walked into the room, stumbling onto your bed, his eyes heavy. you were laying down on your bed, aware of what had happened to him and kept both your doors unlocked for him to come inside without problem.

he let his body fall to the edge of your bed, barely hitting your feet. he grumbled, mumbling incoherent words into your sheets. you leaned up, scratching through his brown locks softly, matt letting out a small sound.

"y'need some water?" you ask softly. he nods, lifting his head up from your blanket, fully allowing you to see his drunk, tired face. "here. drink." you handed him a bottle of water that was on your side table, matt happily accepting it.

the last time matt was actually in your bed was not even 3 nights ago where him and his brothers got into an argument, leading him to come to you, his best friend, sobbing into the pillow.

after finishing the bottle, he tosses it somewhere before crawling up closer to you, clinging to you like a small child. "missed you. shoulda' came."

"you know i don't like those parties. i can't be around all those people, especially ones who are drunk." matt snickered at this. "can't be around me, huh? damn." you slap his arm softly, rolling your eyes.

"not you, y'aren't a alcoholic. you drink sometimes and go overboard at times." matt scoffed. "no i don't. y'just saying that so i'll stop." you get taken aback a bit by matt's sudden defensiveness but dismiss it. "you need to take a shower and sleep, you're being a bitch."

matt sat up on his forearms, his face hard as stone. "i'm not. fuck you." he stood up wobbily, heading to your bathroom, slamming the door in the process. you sigh, pulling out your phone and texting chris.

"matt's over again. wanna pick him up or just let him stay here?"

"fuck im sorry nick's staying over w a friend tn and im staying w a girl, ill pick him up tomorrow morning tho. hope he isn't too much of a hastle :/"

"nah hes good just a bit cranky"

matt walked in again, his shirt off but still remaining in his sweats. it looked like he had washed his face and ran his wet hands through his hair before he slid back into your bed next to you, letting his arm fall over your waist.

"y'texting chris?" he mumbles into your shoulder. you nod, humming. "yeah, just let him know you're here." he scoffs a bit. "like he cares. you guys worry way too fucking much. 'm a 21 year old man. fuck outta here with that "caring" bullshit." he sits up, grumbling.

matt had never really spoken to you this way, or even this loudly ever and you wondered where it all suddenly came from.

"you need to chill, matt." you say while playing with the ends of your hair, your eyes flickering to matt's silent self every few seconds. "shut the fuck up, y/n. you don't know shit. we hooked up, what 2 times? been friends for god knows how fuckin' long and you think you know shit about me. you don't. stop actin' like you my girlfriend." matt snaps, turning his upper body towards you.

"i'm just trying to help out-" "i don't need your fucking help. not you, not chris, not nick, not anyone." matt interrupts. he fully looks back at you, his eyes meeting your eyes for the first time that night, genuinely.

you see his eyes glance down to your lips before his eyebrows furrow a bit as it seems like he's searching every part of your face for something neither of you are quite sure of.

"what?" you ask simply. he meets your eyes again, his tough act growing once again. "nothing." he leans back down onto the bed, turning his body facing the other wall. he scoots himself back a bit subconsciously to let his back touch your arm, even slightly.

he doesn't move, and neither do you as the sounds of your breaths filling the quiet room. "im sorry, y/n. i don't mean to be mean. i just don't feel good." he says softly, after some time. he turns his body to face you, his eyes looking over at your figure that was being illuminated by your lamp on your sidetable.

you look over at him, seeing his low eyes examine your face a bit, before he leans in, kissing your lips softly, searching for anything. you kiss him back a bit before turning your head. "you reek of tequila." you laugh a bit and he rolls away, letting out a breathy laugh also.

"whatever. c'mere." he grabbed your jaw a bit tight, bringing your face back to meet his. you kissed back almost immediately, disregarding the reek. he lets his hand fall to your cheek, rubbing it softly.

after some time, matt pulled away. "remember the first time we kissed? when we were 14?" matt said while kissing your neck, bringing up the memory. "yeah, at summer camp. and we promised not to tell anyone or do it again then we made out in your tent later." you giggled, remembering the memory.

-flashback-

summer of 2017. best friends with the sturniolo triplets who invited you to their camp they've been going to since they were 6. it was lunchtime, and you and matt had picked a table somewhat far away from everyone else, something that became normal for the both of you.

this day, matt had taken a red marker from the arts and crafts station. "can i draw on you? just little hearts." matt said, fiddling with the marker in between his fingers. "yeah, go ahead." you said, taking a sip out of your chocolate milk that was somewhat good.

matt began drawing little red hearts and then coloring the inside of them with a bit more pressure to create a darker color against your skin. "i wanna try something." he whispers before leaning down and kissing each individual heart on your arm with such softness.

the movement caught you by such surprise, leaving your breath hitched in your throat, but you couldn't move your arm away. the feeling of him kissing your body felt so nice.

he leaned back up, with a clear marker stain on his lips. "was that okay?" he muttered, to which you immediately nodded to. "yeah, yeah. y'just got a little stain right there. i'll take it off." you pointed to his lips to which you leaned in, kissing him and him kissing back immediately.

you pulled away after a little bit, seeing that the stain had now been on both your lips, yours and his. he giggled seeing this, before leaning in once again.

-flashback over.-

"good times, i'm telling you y/n." he said before snuggling into your neck, wrapping his arm across your waist, pulling you in tightly. "turn off the light, would you?" he muttered. you nodded, leaning up and flicking the off switch.

the night went on smoothly, soft words and giggles being thrown into the air, eventually leading you two to fall asleep, wrapped up in each other, a lot more close and personal then "best friends" should be.

the sun peeked through your curtains, a low groan being emitted from your throat. you stretched, your knuckles hitting your headboard, causing another groan to be made.

you let your eyes open up a bit and noticed a certain emptiness next to you. you knew matt had come over last night and you two did fall asleep next to one another but did he really leave like that? a decision he's made countless times even after sex, promising he wouldn't do it again?

you leaned over to his side to look for anything of a sign of him. a note, a sock, anything. nothing. nothing was left, and it was almost like he wasn't there. you leaned back over, picking up your phone that was still attached to the charger, the time showing 8:37am.

he hadn't even left a text. he just left like the numerous times he had done before. you pulled up your texts with chris, the last being a text from you last night telling how matt had been "cranky."

"hey has matt left to your house? he js left without a word"

chris responded 3 minutes later.

"he left already? i was supposed to pick him up. lemme check his loc hold up"

"he turned it off lemme ask nick gimme a sec"

"nick said matt turned his location for him off too. all at 4:37am ig"

you checked your messages with matt, and it said the same thing.

"matt has stopped sharing their location with you at 4:37am."

he left 4 hours after he had came? where the fuck did he go?

"hey did u get home safe? left without saying anything lol"

matt responded 13 minutes later.

"ya"

"alr just text me later when ur less hungover"

"k"

throughout the day, matt still hasn't said anything. you had seen a couple clips of him from peoples' stories taking shots, smoking, and making out with random girls.

these stories were all on close friends or private stories of these influencers because if the internet had saw, matt would've been fucked.

seeing matt kiss other girls irked something in you, a feeling you know you shouldn't feel. but you did feel it, whether you liked it or not. matt and you were strictly only friends, a relationship was something the both of you couldn't commit to.

matt was known for being a "loverboy" and "the shy triplet" to the internet, but he was the complete opposite off of the screen. he would fuck you like no other, he would make you cry like no one else had, and he would make you laugh the hardest you ever have.

that's what you loved and hated about matt.

you had learned from before not to talk about your place with matt to him, and learned that he literally couldn't care about "aftercare" or whatever that shit was.

the feelings you felt for him had never changed and you continued to look past the toxic self he put on himself. you continued to see him as the guy you used to love when you were a teenager, and the adult who's back you always had, whenever he needed the support.

[rosenclaws]

Heey! I think your requests are closed, but when you open them, do you think you could write about Logan (any variant) with a reader who has a bad relationship with food? I kinda need the comfort right now, I have to eat to survive, but I hardly ever want to eat, and when I do I feel guilty about it, specially if it's not something super healthy or low cal.

I think Logan would be a really good partner and show support, make sure his partner eats well or doesn't slip meals and even cooks for them :')

Hi! Absolutely I can, I understand what you're going through and I want to know that you're loved and you have my full support <3 I picked origins Logan for this, he just gives off the softest vibes and would be a completely supportive and sweet partner. It's a little short and I apologize but I hope it helps <33

warnings: eating disorder/bad relationship with food, please don't read if this would possibly trigger you

Logan could tell something was off from the moment he walked through the door. His stomach rumbled as he smelled whatever delicious meal you were making for dinner. As he entered the kitchen he saw you pulling a pan out of dinner. Lasagna, his favorite.

"Smells fucking amazing," He purrs as he wraps his hands around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

He still smells like pine needle and dirt from work. Normally he doesn't get back till way past dinner time but today was an easy day. How lucky he gets to eat dinner with the love of his life huh?

"Logan! You scared me." You huff as you gently push his arms off your body.

"Go clean up dinners almost ready." He frowns as you shoo him away.

Lately things have just felt off. You smiled and laughed like you always do but there were little things that just didn't feel right. Especially around meal times.

"Okay sweetheart, I'll be right back." Logan can't help but wonder what could possibly be wrong.

Are you sick? Is something bothering you? If so why wouldn't you tell him? Worries start to invade his thoughts. What could be going on that you can't even go to him about it? After a quick shower and a change of clothes he heads back to the kitchen. Only to see one plate of food sitting on the counter.

"I made it with the sauce you like, not the off brand one." You say with a smile but Logan's worry remains. He sits at the counter and takes the plate.

"Where's yours?" He asks. Your face falls for just a second. Anyone else would have missed it but not Logan. Not when it comes to you.

"Not hungry." You try and play it off, pushing the plate closer but Logan grabs your wrist.

"Logan, I had a big lunch. I'll eat later." You try and tug out of Logan's grip but he remains firm. Never enough to hurt you but enough to keep you there. To keep you from running away.

"I don't believe you. In fact, I've barely seen you eat anything in the last couple months."

The memories come flooding back. He's seen you eat, but its never much and it's always healthy. Shame starts to creep into his bones as he realizes he's failed to put the pieces together. All this time.

"Please sweetheart, whatever is going on you can tell me." Tears start to well up in your eyes as Logan speaks.

You never meant for him to find out. You thought you could handle this on your own. You had been so careful and eat just enough so that he never caught on. But the truth is you're exhausted. Food is nothing more that a means to survive. Everyday you force yourself to eat just enough and no more. Its been exhausting. Especially if the food you eat is too many calories or just plain unhealthy.

Logan almost jumps across the counter the moment he sees the tears, fearing the worst. He abandons his dinner in favor of wrapping you in his arms on the couch. Cooing softly as you cry and explain everything to him. He doesn't say a word, he just listens. Rubbing your back and letting you soak his shirt with tears.

When you're done you prepare for the worst. What if Logan leaves? I mean it would certainly be easier for him to not have to deal with. All of this. But he doesn't. With gentle hands he cups your face and dries your tears.

"I'm so sorry." He mumbles. Sorry that he didn't notice sooner and sorry you've been carrying this for so long.

"Are you mad?" You ask quietly.

"No, of course not." Logan presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Listen honey, this isn't healthy." He knows that you know that but its not as easy as just a flip of a switch to change habits that had been built for years.

"I'm going to be with you every step of the way alright?" He says, tilting your head up so you can look him in the eyes. He wants you to know that he truly means every word.

"Okay," Logan pulls you into a tight hug, whispering sweet words over and over. He wishes he could take all your pain away in an instant. He'd bear it for you without even asking, but he can't.

But he stays true to his promise. Logan is there when you need him, to remind you to eat and taking it upon himself to make meals for you and with you. Some days were harder than others but Logan carried the weight you couldn't.

Things still aren't easy, but with Logan by your side you think you might be able to do anything.

[harukyuu2]

Hellooo I really like your works especially the alnst ones!! ><, so can I request a Ivan, Luka, and Till x Anemic!s/o?? and could you make hcs and scenarios for each one? Tysmm! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

⋆·˚ ༘ *╰┈➤ ❝Dont fall if it isnt for me!!❞

♡ Ivan, Till, Luka x Anemic!Reader -> Gn Reader, fluff, headcanons + small scenario, the alien of Reader is implied to be abusive

↳ Till is the type to… ༉‧₊˚✧

♡ Poor baby is always keeping an eye on you because he cant stand the thought of you fainting :(

♡ At first, he thought the reason you were so pale and cold all the time was that your guardian probably kept you caged up— he wasnt entirely wrong, that was true but it was also because you were anemic!

♡ Once he finds out? He acts calm, but in the inside he is 24/7 trying to take care of you, more if you two are still on ANAKT GARDEN

♡ He will ask you to keep your trainings easy and calm, would give you part of his food even if he recieves barely anything and would try to take naps with you if you ever felt tired (practically always)

♡ Anyways, Till isnt too sure how to help out with your anemia, but he'll be at your side! -> Literally would throw hands with the aliens for you if they are exploiting you while you feel dizzy

"Reader..."

Till called you while he watched you practice, he already told you to take it easy three times but yet you continued dancing and singing— you felt out of yourself by now but if you didnt learn this choreo, you didnt want to know what your guardian could do to you...

"N-not now Till, i have to learn this" - You say with a shaky breath trying to focus even if your gaze was blurry and your heart was starting to beat faster.

Till, letting out a frustrated sigh, finally stood up from where he was sitting. - "Stop being dense, I dont want you to—" - Before he could finish his lecture, you tripped, your vision going pitch black for a moment. He was quick to catch you, even as you practically fell into him

You two were on the floor for a moment, your head resting in Till's shoulder until his shaky hand decided to caress your hair finally— with a sigh, he tried to calm the red from his face while you leaved a small laugh, even if you felt tired he kept you close and that made you happy, deciding to finally hear his lecture.

"Youre so stupid...atleast rest like this a moment, alright? I'll protect you from your guardian if he acts like a dumbass...i promise."

↳ Ivan is the type to… ༉‧₊˚✧

♡ This boy is always analyzing you, so that means the moment he knows you have anemia, is the moment he tried to find books about it

♡ He would try EVERYTHING to make your situation better. Bad diet? Yeah, you can have his, he always gets good food. Lack of sun? He would try to get you out and get some with the excuse of doing photoshoots or something!

♡ If you ever felt tired (most of the time better said) he is the first one to make you sit down and rest while talking nonstop the symptoms of anemia so you stay still

♡ He cuddles you a lot! If you feel embarassed of always being cold, no worries— i think he is just as cold as you are! So seek warm together <3

♡ Your personal reminder to take care of you, literally everyday he will try his best for you to feel better! And you better listen to him, because if you're overworking yourself instead of paying attention to him, he'll just drag you to rest.

"Okaay, so you eated good today! We can have a little break and then i can help you practice your vocals on that song—" - Ivan was interrupted by you standing abruptly, but he kept that smile that showed his fang always

"No, i should train now and uhh..." - You tried to end the sentence, but standing quickly got consequences for you, making the dizziness appear while your gaze stumbled

Ivan noticed and just leaved a small laugh, even if he heard your grumbles, he made you climb onto his back so you could rest while he walked

"C'monn, lets rest a little and then i'll help you practice, you have to hear me you know! Just...dont throw on me"

With that being said, Ivan dragged you against a tree, hoping the artificial sun of ANAKT GARDEN would help you while he hummed your song, talking about how pretty it would sound once you sang it.

↳ Luka is the type to… ༉‧₊˚✧

♡ Poor baby is so head over heels for you that he thought for a moment that maybe giving his blood to you would help :( Like, when you two were childs, he hitted his mouth thinking that blood would help you

♡ Listen, he has tons of things to check his health state too. He would try to see if any of them could help you

♡ Even if you had clones, he isnt letting you go. So, with his little knowledge from books, he would start taking care of you even if its pretty harsh or indirect with his lectures ♡ Would try to share his food with you, fails successfully because his ass is a big eater. Still, he always tries to make sure you're eating well, and when you dont, he'll call you out on it. If its because the aliens dont give you enough? He'd let you bite him to calm the hunger

♡ He isnt the most healthy person either, so he understands you when youre tired or dizzy. He was always forced to continue training even when he feels like that, but for you he'd force you to take it easy "Lukaaa...c'mon we have to learn this or else were gonna fail the collab!" - You say crossing your arms while Luka gazed boredly at you Even if you felt a little dizzy by now, your guardian managed to get you a collab with Luka! An important event since he was known as the ruler of the stage. The bad thing for both of you? it counted with a choreo and you urged to learn it well to not be punished for a mistake during the collab, even if it meant overworking yourself.

Luka sighed, standing up and putting his hands on your shoulders - "Dont be stupid, i know you didnt have a big meal today and by the look of your eyes youre kinda dizzy, arent you? Im giving you the chance to rest, just take it." Seeing the small guilt and worry in your averted gaze made him feel something— you always make him feel something, dont you? He sighed again, rolling his eyes as he took your wrist, guiding you towards his messy room, filled with things for his health and papers all over the floor. With a swift move, he managed to lay you on his bed, and without hesitation, he joined you, hugging you close, his head resting on your shoulder without thinking too much about it "Stay here— you dont want to faint, do you? So use your head for a moment and cuddle with me..."

You sighed, letting him win the argument as always as you resigned to caress his hair. Maybe you can train later, now you have a new task in hand— that a sleepy Luka doesnt end up confusing you for something sweet and bitting you!

[peaceinsilence]

《Pair: Quinn Hughes x fem!Reader

*no mention of y/n*

Warnings: 18+, dark Quinn, alcohol consumption, age gap, obsession, cursing, controlling, angsty Quinn, eludes to dominant/submissive kink, potential kidnapping, slow burn

Synopsis: It's monthly game night with your friend group. It's Quinn's turn to host. Upon arriving early and being the only guest, Quinn can't help but let it slip what his true intentions were for you on his game night.》

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Knocking twice on Quinn's massive, oak door, I take a step back in giddy anticipation. I was vibrating with excitement, more than ready to unwind after a long work day with my friends and Quinn.

One Saturday out of the month, you all planned in the group chat who was hosting for that month and what games were to be played, what we were eating and drinking, etc. It was a big deal as we were all so busy with our lives now, but it was still important we maintained our friendships.

This Saturday game night, Quinn was hosting.

》

The front door creaks open, and I flash Quinn a dimpled, half smile.

"Well, hellooo, Captain, how's it -"

"Why are you here today?" Quinn groans, taking in the sight of you, bouncing on his doorstep like an energized bunny.

Frowning at his lack of response to my arrival, I glance down at my watch, noting the current time and date. It was 5:00 pm, Saturday.

"Um... w-was it not for 5:00 pm?"

"Check the group chat again, sweetheart."

Quinn leans his body against his door frame, hands snug in his denim pockets as he studies me with a slight look of annoyance, mixed with heavy amusement.

Yup, I didn't realize that Quinn had changed game night to tomorrow, 5:00 pm.

"So.... no one else is here then?"

Quinn rolls his irises and motions for me to come in and out of the brisk evening night.

"Well, no, you dummy. The rest of our friends know how to read."

"Y'know, for a host, you have a reeeal attitude towards your guest of honour," I retort, slinking off my emerald puffer onto Quinn's wooden coffee table.

I flip my hair out of my sweater and re-adjust the fit around my neckline, peeling the wool a bit further past my collarbones and off my shoulders. Much better.

Quinn stares at me, his expression one of neutrality and... of something else that I could never quite place. Typical Quinn, always dissociating.

I returned his leery gaze back and wondered what he was thinking about, or lack of.

"...well then, I think I need a drink," I mutter awkwardly, cutting the stillness that was growing between us.

Quietly making my way into Quinn's kitchen, I proceed to help myself, knowing he doesn't mind that I've made myself comfortable in his space. Reaching for a martini glass, I hum to fill the silent space, knowing that Quinn was simply observing me. Something he did often.

We were close friends on the surface, I guess. Quinn and I didn't spend much time together outside of mutual group settings. He was a few years older, usually occupied with work or at practice, and the most reserved out of our shared friend group. Not quiet per se, he just chose his words carefully and only engaged when he felt his voice or opinion or help was warranted. He was a calculated man.

"Do you have a cocktail shaker, Quinn?"

Quinn pushes himself off and away from his large, marbled island. His feet took him over to his expansive bar stand, pulling out a beautiful, copper shaker.

"What do you want? I'll make it."

Interesting.

He never once offered in the years I've known him to make me my drinks. Or a drink. In fact, I was pretty sure Quinn was put off by doing anything for me with how he teased and pushed my buttons relentlessly.

"Oh, sure. Thank you, Quinn. I'll just have a dirty martini."

Quinn simply nods his head in acknowledgment, piling out some bottles from the bottom rack of his stand.

For some reason, I found myself admiring how his supple lips pursed into a tight line, his dark eyes remaining dead, despite being laser focused on what he was doing. I was mesmerized by his swift movements.

Quinn tightly caps the shaker shut and begins to vigorously jerk it back and forth from his lower abdomen, outwards. Making sure the contents he had just dumped inside was melding together.

I feel my face slowly start to get flush, my mind dizzy, and a perverted arousal flooding my core. I know I should stop staring at him, but the way Quinn kept twisting and jerking the shaker in one tight grip was absolutely sending me with an animalistic urge.

Quinn catches my needy gaze for a moment, somehow painfully aware of the effect he had on my crumbling psyche.

"What? Want me to go harder?"

A delicate sigh of content and a muffled whimper escape from my chest upon registering his words.

I fidget with the oversized sleeves to my sweater nervously, peeling my now shy gaze away from him.

"Quinn... " I warn, realizing he was just trying to fuck with me now. He knew exactly the influence he had over me and I was positive he was just abusing it at this point.

Quinn gives the shaker one last, painfully slow jerk before setting it back onto the counter. Instead of pouring the delicious liquid into my martini glass, I watch him tip his head back. His brunette curls, falling back with him. Quinn slowly, in a teasing manner, pours the alcohol down his throat through the spout of the cocktail shaker. W...what... I felt my brain start to short circuit.

What the hell.

"C'mere." Quinn instructs. I'm reluctant at first, unsure of what he wants from me, as he clearly can't be bothered to elaborate on his current scheming. But I oblige, too obediently.

"Open."

Quinn's calloused hands settle for a gentle grip around my chin, as he regards me with an expression of yearning and a need for... control.

"I said open. Wide."

Shyly, I have no choice but to purse my red lips, parting my mouth open for Quinn as he can't help but smile at me with a proud, fond expression.

"Aw. So obedient. But, wider. It's okay, sweetheart."

Quinn grips my jaw a bit firmer this time, as he uses his other hand to bring the copper bottle up to my lips, tilting it back painfully slow so it drains down my throat in a steady, controlled stream.

"That's it. Careful, I don't want you wasting a drop. It'll be a mess to clean, then," Quinn coo's in encouragement.

He loosens the steady grip on my jaw, noticing that I'm eagerly taking the delicious concoction on my own now. I feel some of the liquid about to dribble down my chin, but Quinn quickly catches it with his thumb.

"Good girl."

Quinn pulls the shaker away from my gaping mouth, dumping the remnants into my glass, garnishing it with 3 olives.

As the alcohol coats my stomach and a deep, buzzing sensation fills my frame, I try to push past the sudden intimacy I shared with Quinn seconds ago. Especially because he seems to think nothing of the exchange now.

"Let's watch a movie."

Quinn's sudden statement pulls me out of my clouds.

"A movie? Um... well I'll be back here tomorrow for game night, right? We can just watch something to-"

"I canceled game night tomorrow."

My brows furrow in deep confusion at what he had just said admitted.

"Y-You canceled game night? Okay... well, when are you rescheduling it then?"

I pull out my Samsung from the back of my jeans, unlocking it with my fingerprint and pulling up our shared group chat.

🎲The Weekender's🎮

《Captain 🐋: Hey, I'm down with a bad cold right now. Reschedule for next month- drinks and dinner on me. Sorry guys.》

Read by everyone-

What on earth. Quinn was not sick. At all. Why would he lie to our friends like that.

"Quinn, you are not sick."

Quinn simply shrugs his shoulders in response, that dissociative look flooding his vacant eyes again for the second time tonight.

An uneasy feeling began to creep into the pit of my gut, festering into nervousness and making me very aware of the shift in energy in the room.

"O-Okay...um, I think I'm going to h...head ho-"

"You don't want to watch a movie with me?"

Quinn's gaze dropped in disappointment, and a tinge of growing irritance quickly replacing it.

"No... not at the moment, Quinn. I-I think I'm going to go home and just relax... " I trail off hesitantly, unsure of how he was going to respond at me doubling down on my decline of his offer.

My emerald puffer was on the coffee table in front of Quinn.

Calculating my next movements, at a leisurely pace, I shuffle towards his uncertain demeanor. As I try to reach for my jacket, Quinn immediately strips it away from my possession and holds it against his torso.

"Here you go."

Quinn extends my puffer towards me, a growing smirk on his face as he motions for me to invade his space and grab it.

In my attempt to take it back, he holds it up in the air, above my head in a mocking manner.

"Don't be a child, Quinn. My car keys and wallet are in there. G-Give it back," I plead pathetically.

"Watch 1 movie with me. Then you can go."

My eyes widen at his incredulous demand.

"Actually, how about I watch 0 movies with you and you give me my jacket back, now... you know what, just forget it Quinn, I'll call an Uber and pick up my jacket some other-"

As I pull out my phone to order a ride, Quinn peels my phone from my grip and shoves it deep into his front pocket.

Speechless, I try to rack my brain on what just happened and why Quinn was acting so out of character.

"I'll drop you home, Princess."

Suddenly a rush of deep relief wafts over me as I place a hand over my pounding chest, exhaling a breath I didn't even know I was holding in.

"Jesus, Quinn. You scared the-"

"Later this week. Or maybe the week after, I'll drop you home."

What.

Quinn ignores the confusion and fear painted on me as he brings his face towards mine. He plants a tender kiss on my forehead, lightly stroking my hair in a possessive manner.

"You look like a wounded kitten, sweetheart. It's alright. I'm here to take care of you now. I'll make you all better, little one."

Quinn pulls away from me, walking towards the large alarm panel near his back door. I watch him arm the house and begin to lower all of the blinds in the living room, an impending doom seeping into my trembling body.

"Now. Be good and sit on the fucking couch like the good girl I know you are. It's our first movie night. I won't let you ruin it."

With laboured breaths, I feel my body going into a dreaded fight or flight response.

*due to my own selfish needs, there will be an unhinged part ||*

[bucksangel]

sugar and cream

pairing: alpha!steve x artist!omega!reader x alpha!bucky (poly) - omegaverse!au pt. 4

word count: 10.6k (i’m sorry😭)

summary: The second thing you notice is the bench seat by the living room window having been cleared off, leaving only a few pillows and a variety of Bucky and Steve's clothes. You're drawn to it like a moth to a flame, the potent scent of your Alphas clinging to their shirts pulling you in until you can reach out and run your fingers over the red Henley on top. "We, um - We thought you could have a nest... here."

or - you finally mate with your Alphas.

warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! the amount of fluff in here is unbearable, this is also very smutty, threesome (mmf), knotting, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving and also kinda m receiving), cum swallowing, praise kink galore, consent is sexy, cockwarming, mentions of bonding, mentions of m/m sex, dirty talk, omegaverse, omega is shy and inexperienced, stucky are extremely careful and loving, a slight amount of angst (bucky is insecure about his arm/scars), basically everyone is nervous, switching povs

a/n: part 4 is finally here!!! i want to continue this au so if anyone has any suggestions as to what to write then lmk!! beta’d by the ever lovely @perdidosbucky-yyo and @fandoms-writings <3 and, as always, this is dedicated to my heart and soul: @buckysbarne

milk and honey masterlist | main masterlist | tip jar | ao3

After days of not seeing your Alphas or having much contact with them, it sends a rush of adrenaline straight to your veins when Bucky texts you that they've finally made it home. Over the few months Bucky and Steve have been courting you, they've only gone on a handful of missions, and most only lasted a day or so with only one of them being gone, so you always had one of your Alphas by your side.

This is the first time they've both been gone for almost four days, and while that isn't that long in the grand scheme of things, you've been anxiously waiting for any communication from them that they're safe. And now that you know they are, you can't remember ever being so excited for something. You want to see them, to check them over and make sure their bruises and cuts are taken care of - even though you know they've already gone to the medical wing of the Tower to get everything taken care of.

It's also extremely nerve wracking because tonight is the night. The night you'll finally mate with Bucky and Steve and show them how much you love them with your body and soul. You haven't been with many Alphas, but you've watched a fair amount of porn with men that may or may not resemble yours in preparation for tonight. It was a little... embarrassing at first; you didn't even know what to search for. But the more videos you watch and accounts from other Omegas about their experiences with being with two Alphas you read, you'd like to think that you're ready.

Truthfully, you've been ready for tonight, even before they asked if you were. You've never wanted to give yourself over to anyone more than these men because you know they'll treat you right, they'll take care of you.

So, even though your skin is buzzing with anxiety, you don't dare and try to talk yourself out of grabbing your bags and jumping in your car. Your face almost hurts from how wide your smile is, the happiness at finally seeing your boys combined with tonight's events causing you to let out a little shriek. You can't contain your emotions right now, not that you want to, Steve and Bucky are very vocal about how they love that you've come out of your shell the longer you've been with them.

Just as you're parking, your phone dings with a text from your friend, Tori.

Have fun, be safe, and call me if you need me <3

Two seconds later, another text comes through.

And tell them that they better treat you right or else I'll come for them :)

Rolling your eyes, you quickly type back a response.

Thank you, babe. I'll let them know and call you if I need anything, ily <3

You don't bother waiting for a response before you grab your bags from the passenger seat and climb out of the car. You suppose you should feel anxious walking up their porch, but any and all worries immediately dissipate as soon as you reach the front door, to which it promptly swings open. Bucky is standing there, a wide smile stretched across his face, and a flush on his cheeks.

"Honey," He says, though it's more of a breathy whisper. His eyes sparkle, and you can't stop yourself from ducking your head and nervously giggling, making sure to hold your bag tight so as not to drop it. "Here, let me take that."

You hand him your overnight bags, to which he takes them in one hand and grabs your hand with his other to guide you into the house. It's decorated a little differently than how it looked when you were last here. The first thing you notice is the new large fluffy blanket folded and thrown over the back of the couch, enticing you to collapse onto it and wrap yourself in the fabric.

The second thing you notice is the bench seat by the living room window having been cleared off, leaving only a few pillows and a variety of Bucky and Steve's clothes. You're drawn to it like a moth to a flame, the potent scent of your Alphas clinging to their shirts pulling you in until you can reach out and run your fingers over the red Henley on top.

"We, um - We thought you could have a nest... here." Bucky's nervous voice makes you turn your head to look at him. Steve has come to stand beside him, lacing his fingers through his mates', and smiles at you with such fondness that it makes you want to drag them to their room right then.

-

"We thought you could have a nest... here." Saying it out loud is a little scary, but Bucky and Steve want you to know that you're welcome here, that they want you here any time you want to be here - which they can only hope is all the time.

And Bucky feels like he's floating on clouds when you smile at them, then take the Henley and bring it up to your nose. Your sweetened scent permeates the living room, and Bucky thinks he can make out the hint of a grin behind his shirt.

"Thank you, Alphas," You say when you lay the shirt back down, and Bucky is suddenly pulled back down to earth the closer you walk toward them, placing one of your hands on his cheek and grabbing Steve's hand with your other. "I - I'd love that."

If it weren't for the flush on your cheeks and the sparkle in your eyes, Bucky would've thought your micro stutter meant the opposite of what you said. But, as it is, he can't find it in himself to doubt you when you step up onto your tiptoes and place a lingering and loving kiss on his lips. And, after days of not seeing you, Bucky feels like he can finally relax and let out a big sigh of relief at knowing that he's surrounded by both of his loves.

Bucky's been on edge for the entire mission - not like Steve fared much better; they were both worried about not being able to keep contact with you. They absolutely know you can take care of yourself, but after months of doting on you and having you love them in return, they got used to it. Even if you didn't see each other every day, they never went long without texting or calling you, so it made both his and Steve's skin crawl at the circumstances.

But now they're back, and both men know that you are what makes their small brownstone a home, which is why they were even more excited to return.

Your kiss grounds him, the glide of your lips against his causing him to sigh into your mouth, and he can't stop himself from licking and then nipping at your bottom lip, desperate to hear that little squeak you let you whenever they give you things or do something that you like.

You'd all kissed before, including a few heavy petting sessions, but nothing further. They respect your boundaries and comfortability, and they'd hate themselves if they were the ones to hurt you like that. But, at their core, they're Alphas, and neither man can deny the rush of adrenaline whenever they're able to bring you even the smallest amount of pleasure.

The kiss comes to an end far too soon for Bucky's liking, but there's something inside him that loves seeing you and Steve together, so he pulls back, trying desperately to not feel bad when you whine and chase his lips.

"Why don't you give ol' Stevie a kiss too," Bucky murmurs against your mouth, smiling slightly when you suck in a breath and nod, your eyes glazing over a little. The look is mesmerizing, and he's anxious to see just how sweet you'll be for them.

When Bucky looks over to his Alpha, he sees the poorly disguised eagerness written all over his face, his puppy dog eyes shining. The brunette cups the back of your head, then disentangles his hand from Steve's so he can do the same to him, then guides your heads closer to each other until your lips are touching.

The kiss is easy and light, a few simple pecks, until they're both surprised by your boldness when you press your body into his and angle your head so that Steve is able to kiss you properly. He can see a peek of tongue slowly prompting you to open your mouth, then licking into it.

And Bucky can tell neither of you know, but your combined scents of arousal are emanating throughout the room and probably filling the entire house. He can feel his cock filling up in his jeans, twitching to life the longer the show goes on until he can't ignore it anymore, having to secretly reach down and grab his crotch to relieve the ache. Even without your mixed scents, he knows both of you are feeling it too by the little whines and gasps.

They'd planned on taking time to settle you into their house, take you on a tour of the rooms you hadn't seen before, maybe let you set up your nest by the window. But he doesn't want to wait; he's too nervous in the best way possible to worship you.

So, he saddles up behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist and resting it on your stomach, then places his other hand on Steve's waist. His movements knock both of you out of your trance, both of you pulling back with gasps and reddened lips, a bright blush covering Steve's cheeks.

"Sorry," Steve says breathlessly, chuckling a little when he realizes he got a little lost in the kiss.

"Don't be, Alpha," Bucky responds, leaning over your shoulder to peck Steve's lips. You whine at the sight, subconsciously squirming between their bodies.

"Alphas." Both Alphas groan, looking down at you with hooded eyes. "I - I'm..."

"Yes?" Steve asks when you don't continue, smiling when you nervously chuckle.

"I'm ready."

-

"I'm ready." You mean it with everything you have; you're ready to make love with them, to join your bodies, and show them that you trust them, that you love them.

Steve curses softly, gripping your hips as though he's restraining himself from throwing you over his shoulder. He doesn't; he actually puts one arm around your waist and loops his other arm under your knees and swiftly picks you up, carrying you bridal-style and smirking when you squeak.

No one says anything while you all head toward their room, a place you've never been. It makes you nervous, but you know without a doubt that you want this, you want to push through those nerves because you're even more anxious to really be with them.

Steve sets you down on your feet when they reach the end of their bed, letting you get a good look at how they live. Their room is spacious; a large bed with multiple pillows, a window with another bench seat, and a bookshelf that you just know is filled with Bucky's fantasy novels. You're smiling as you turn to look at everything, but your smile grows when you see more of their clothes on the lounge chair in the corner.

"We figured you could make a nest in our bed," Steve says nervously, and even without looking at him, you know he's shuffling in place, aching to reach out for you. "We want you to be comfortable here."

You can't seem to find any words to describe how happy you are right now, joy filling your body when you think about being surrounded by not only their scent, but their bodies too. It takes no time at all to walk over to the chair and look over the clothes, noticing shirts and sweaters and even a few boxers, causing heat to rise through your body and up to your face.

You don't even need to think about it, grabbing everything in the pile and carrying them over to the bed. The smile on your face is prominent with each article of clothing you place over the plush sheets, forming a semi-circle and fluffing it up until you're satisfied. Looking back to your Alphas, your eyes shine with a need to be praised, to be told that you did a good job, and that your boys are proud of you for your arrangement.

They do so very quickly.

"It's beautiful, honey," Steve says, not taking his eyes off of you.

"It's perfect, Omega," Bucky says next, reaching out his hand and beckoning you forward.

You go easily, walking toward them until you're once again sandwiched between them.

"You're really ready?" Bucky asks, caressing your sides and carefully slipping one of his hands under your shirt.

"Y-Yes." God, you're more than ready. But knowing that you're not as experienced as they are makes you question how tonight is going to go. However, they've always been careful with you, so you're at least comfortable knowing that they won't hurt you.

"We're going to go slow, okay?" Bucky asks, and you let out a small sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding.

"If we do anything you don't like, please tell us," Steve adds, cupping the back of your neck with a large hand. Guiding your head up to look at him, the seriousness in his gaze feels like the wind has been knocked out of you. The fact that they're so adamant about pleasuring you sends shivers down your spine.

"Yes, Alpha."

"We'll start with you telling us what you like," Bucky whispers in your ear, just loud enough for everyone to hear, but not so loud to disrupt the moment.

"Oh." Truthfully, you don't really know what you like. You haven't been with many Alphas, so you're not sure what you enjoy when having sex with one, but you have a general understanding as to what you like when you spend some time with yourself. "Well, I - uh. I don't really know, I haven't... been with that many people, so I don't really know. But, I... I like kissing. And I like touching."

"God, you're sweet," Bucky murmurs, kissing your cheek.

-

"God, you're sweet."

It's true, oh Lord, is it true. When Steve leans down to kiss you, he already knows what he wants to do. And since he and Bucky have talked about this in length, he knows Bucky is on the same page. They both know you're fairly inexperienced, so they figured you may not know exactly what you prefer with other people, but they both know they'll spend all night - hell, all weekend, exploring your body and getting to find out what makes you moan before they even think about their own pleasure.

"How about," Steve cut himself off with a groan poorly disguised as a clear of the throat. "How about we get naked first and get in bed. Is that okay?"

"Yes," You say quickly, leaning up and kissing Steve again. "I - I want that."

"Good," Bucky says, kissing the back of your neck and toying with the hem of your shirt. "We're going to undress you first."

Steve and Bucky talked about it, and came to a mutual decision to direct you through the night's events, telling you what they're going to do so they don't scare you. It also helps them and their primal Alpha urges to take care of you, to settle them into the mindset of giving you as much euphoria as they can without getting lost in their own heads.

Bucky and Steve kiss all over your face and neck, soft presses of lips against smooth skin, occasionally nipping and biting and licking. They pointedly ignore your scent gland, wanting to not only tease you a little, but also not put pressure on you with the idea of their marks. While they love to think about you being theirs forever, they want you to make the decision on if and when it will happen.

They're slow and methodical in taking off your shirt, Bucky working on your pants while Steve's brain short circuits at the sight of your covered breasts rising and falling rapidly with each passing second that their hands caress your body. When his Alpha chuckles, he's knocked out of his trance, kneeling down and steadying your legs to help you step out of your jeans.

Then, you're standing in their room covered only by your bra and underwear. Steve can smell your arousal even more here, the scent of your wetness making his head spin and lean into it. He stops himself before he gets too close, though, not wanting to move too fast. Looking up at you, he runs his hands up and down your thighs, very much enjoying the sight of his mate's hands exploring your torso, stopping to cup your clothed breast.

"Oh!" Your back arches, pressing into Bucky's touch. Steve sees his boyfriend smile against your neck, takes great joy in your little whines, and the way your hips buck up when Steve tugs at the band of your panties.

"Can we take these off, honey?"

"Please." Your begging causes the base of Steve's cock to throb, his knot already pleading to lock inside you.

You stand in place as Bucky works to remove your bra while Steve drags your underwear down your legs, and when he removes them entirely, he's captivated by the sight of how wet and ruined they are. The need to smell them is strong, but he manages to push aside the urge so that he can place his hands on your waist and look up at your face. Your pleasure is evident, but so is your hesitance.

Steve knows it probably shouldn't, but your inexperience turns him on even more than you already do, and he's determined to get you through it to the other side.

"Do you want to lay down, Omega?" Bucky asks, running his hands up and down your arms in a soothing manner.

"O-Okay." Your voice is breathy, already melting into their arms despite the lingering anxiety.

Steve stands, and both men guide you to the bed, a low growl bubbling up in Bucky's throat when you lay down, your legs out straight and spread slightly. They can both hear how fast your heart is racing, they both see the rapid rising and falling of your chest, and they can both smell how absolutely soaked you are.

"She's so beautiful, isn't she Stevie?" Bucky's voice is breathless, like he can't believe his luck at seeing you like this. Steve understands, because he's feeling quite the same. He's so eager to be with you but even more resolved to make this as pleasurable for you as possible, so slow and steady it is.

"She really is, Buck." They're about to crawl onto the bed, but stop when you whine softly and squirm.

"What's wrong, Omega?" Steve's brow furrows, looking over at his Alpha, who appears to be equally concerned.

"Can... Um. Can I... see you too?" Your voice is so small, so timid. The way you fiddle with one of their shirts by your head lets Steve know you probably want to reach out for them, and Steve would never deny you anything you ask for.

"Of course," Steve says, nodding. When he takes off his shirt, he sees your eyes widen, and smiles to himself when you shut your legs together tightly. The hunger in your eyes is evident, but there's also nervousness. "How about we still keep our boxers on for now, and we can finish getting undressed later?"

"O-Okay." Steve smiles at your response, and then looks over to his mate who - oh. Fear is etched across his face, and it suddenly clicks in Steve's brain.

Bucky's arm. While the scars have never deterred Steve from loving and worshiping Bucky the way he deserves, he knows his Alpha is still self conscious about it around other people. He's grown more confident with his body as time passes, but Steve knows Bucky is terrified of you seeing the marred skin on his shoulder.

"Alpha?" Your soft voice says, and you slowly sit up and look at Bucky expectantly.

-

"Alpha?"

Bucky kind of wants to vomit. He's been so excited for tonight, so eager to finally show you how much love they can give you, that he completely forgot that he would have to be naked too. He knows Steve doesn't mind his arm or scars, has told and shown him countless times that he's loved and desired, but it's different with you.

After all Bucky has been through, he never thought he'd get so lucky as to reunite with Steve, to be with him and love him openly in a way he never allowed himself to dream of back in the forties when being gay was a death sentence and two Alpha's mating was so unheard of it that it was laughable. And now that he can, he feels like he can truly be himself, like he can be, dare he say it, happy.

And then you came along. You, with your sweet voice that invades his dreams and makes him wake up aching to call you. You, with your tender touch that feels like a shot of dopamine straight into his veins any time your fingers so much as brush his arm. You, with your kind heart that has shown him so much love and patience, one would think you were a saint.

You've allowed him to explore parts of himself that he never knew existed; you've shown him how gentle he can be, that he's more than what he's made himself out to be. So, knowing all of this about you, Bucky doesn't think it should be so scary to reveal his torso to you. He knows that even if you did think the scars were ugly, you wouldn't visibly react.

But that's the thing. What if you do think his scars are ugly? Tony gave him some fancy medical cream he can't remember the name of to help make them not so red and angry all the time, but it's still not pretty. And the last thing Bucky wants is for you to look at him and realize you're too good for an Alpha like him.

No. He thinks harshly, chewing on his bottom lip, heat rising to his face as he tries to calm his racing heart. She loves me. I am enough. I can do this.

"Bucky?" Your sweet voice travels up to his ears, forcing his gaze to meet yours. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, of - of course - yeah." He knows he's okay, he knows he's safe with you and Steve, but when he finally pulls his shirt over his head and drops it to the floor, he can't meet your eyes, too afraid of what he'll find if he does.

He hears the bed squeak when he doesn't move, and he's so focused on trying to breathe properly that he nearly jumps when he feels Steve's hand land on his flesh shoulder.

"Bucky," You call again, soft as ever, and he can see out of the corner of his eyes that you're now kneeling at the end of the bed, reaching out to touch his chest. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I can put my shirt on if you want," Is what he blurts out, rushed, trying to assure you that he'll do whatever he needs to make you comfortable.

"Why would I want that? I love looking at you." There's a pain in Bucky's heart because you sound genuinely hurt and confused, wondering why he would ever think such a thing. "You're beautiful, Alpha."

Bucky lets out a shaky breath, then, with no small amount of apprehension, turns to face you.

"It's just... I know you probably don't want to see my... my scars, and I know they're ugly, so it -" Bucky's cut off by your lips pressing against his, and he feels his body relax even more.

"Do you want to know what I think of your scars?" You ask when you pull back, and Bucky doesn't really know if he wants to or not. But there's no malice in your tone, no disgust in your eyes, only love. So, despite his better judgment, he nods slowly.

"I think they're a symbol of resolve. You've been through so much, far too much. And they might remind you of all that you were forced to do, but not for me. They're proof to me that you withheld their torment and came out on the other side. They're proof of how strong and capable you are. I don't care if they aren't aesthetically pleasing, they're apart of you, whether you like it or not. And I love you. All of you. And that includes your arm."

Bucky is so focused on you that he doesn't realize he's crying; the tears on his cheeks don't register in his mind because he's too captivated by the sight of your fingers delicately running along the biggest mark on his shoulder. Then, you're leaning forward, placing a few short and sweet kisses along the seam where metal meets flesh, and Bucky won't even deny that the whimper he lets out is downright pitiful. But he can't help it; he doesn't want to ever go without you and your compassion.

"I love you too," Bucky whispers, leaning into your touch. "You... You're sure you don't mind?"

"Baby," You murmur, cupping his cheek in one palm and holding onto his shoulder with the other. "If it would make you feel more comfortable to wear a shirt, then I won't force you not to wear one, but I want to see you, all of you. I don't care if you don't think you're perfect because you're perfect to me. Me and Stevie. You're perfect for us."

If Bucky believed in a God, he'd be thanking them right now, would be on his knees wondering what he ever did to deserve you, but is so grateful that he must have done something right because here you are, in all your glory. Naked and baring your heart and soul to them.

Bucky wants to ravage you. He wants to worship you.

He's going to.

With a resolute nod, he covers your hand - the one on his cheek - and moves it so he can kiss your palm, once, twice, then a final time before he looks over at Steve. His mate has tears in his own eyes, and he's honestly surprised Steve isn't bawling right now, always so emotional.

"Lay back, Omega." Bucky's voice is hoarse, thick with emotion and desire.

And, because you're so sweet, you lay back easily, wiggling until you're laying comfortably with your legs out and spread a little, and your arms resting on the pillow above you. The picture you paint is better than anything in the MoMA. He could write soliloquies about how beautiful you are when you look at him with half-lidded eyes and slightly kiss-swollen lips. You're completely relaxed, and Bucky takes a few seconds to breathe in your scent and cement in his brain that you want him.

"Okay," Bucky whispers, mostly to himself, and gathers the courage to unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper. Looking to you, he waits for your little nod before he actually tugs the garment down, and then turns his head to see Steve doing the same. They're both slow, not wanting to ruin the moment. They've got nowhere to be except here with you.

Once both Alphas' pants are discarded, Steve steps towards Bucky and gives him an encouraging kiss, letting him know that they're in this together. It gives Bucky the reassurance that Steve is on the same page as him, is with him 'til the end of the line.

When they break away, they share a knowing glance. This is a big step for not just you, but for them. They've been together their whole lives; they know each other intimately in ways no one else ever will, and so to allow someone else into their dynamic was a big adjustment.

It's one they're happy to make for you.

"Can we come into your nest, Omega?"

-

"Can we come into your nest, Omega?"

You're not sure why, but there's a pang in your chest at the question. This is their bed you're laying in, these are their clothes you're surrounded by, but to them, it's your nest. They've already given you so much without expecting or asking for anything in return, and now they're giving you this; a safe space outside of your apartment where no one can hurt you, where even they still ask for permission to enter.

"Yes." It's the fastest and easiest response you've ever given, and you can't stop the smile from etching across your face as they crawl up the bed so that they can both lay on either side of you, propping themselves up on an elbow so they can stare down at you.

Now you're really trapped between them, both Alphas' eyes roaming over your body as though they can't believe you're real. Despite the close quarters, your 'fight or flight' senses don't kick in; you know in your soul that you're protected. And that thought alone makes your inner Omega force a submissive whine slip out of your mouth.

"Can I touch you, honey?" Steve asks, letting his hand hover over your stomach as though he's aching to feel you but won't do so without your permission.

"Please, Alpha." You're not sure which of your Alphas produces the deep growl that echoes through the room; perhaps it's both of them; all you know is that as soon as Steve's hand makes contact with your skin, your body is lit aflame. He runs his fingers over to your side, gliding his palm up until he's just barely touching your breast.

Suddenly, Bucky has let his hand rest on your neck - not nearly enough to choke you, just to guide your attention to his.

"Can I kiss you?"

You're not at all embarrassed at the speed at which you surge forward to kiss Bucky; just a few touches and sweet words and you're already putty for them. This time, you can feel the groan vibrating through the Blonde Alpha's chest, and your hand instinctively searches for him, finding purchase by threading your fingers through his hair. You can feel his eyes never wavering from your face, and it makes you burn hotter, makes you squirm because you're not sure what to do about the almost unbearable ache between your legs.

The kiss starts out soft, merely a gentle glide of lips caressing each other. It isn't until one of Steve's massive hands fully encompasses one of your breasts that Bucky's tongue has the opportunity to slip into your mouth - dropped open due to a gasp.

Lips press against your neck, soft sighs mixed in with little nips as Steve breathes in your scent. You're pretty sure it's involuntary, but you feel the hard bulge in Steve's boxers grind against your leg a few times before he seems to come to his senses and stop his movements.

"Sorry, 'mega," Steve breathes out against your skin, tugging at your nipple at the same time Bucky moves his hand down to your stomach. They work in tandem to get you worked up, and you're sure both of them can smell how wet you are.

It's when Bucky's hand reaches the top of one of your thighs that you part your legs as wide as you can with both Alphas surrounding you.

"Can I touch your pussy?" Bucky asks, pulling back from your lips just enough to be heard. He's breathing hard, almost as though he is the one that's about to combust from pleasure.

"Y-Yes, Alpha." It's been so long since you've had someone else touch you like this, and despite being nervous, you want to push through it. You want to join your bodies with them, give them anything they desire.

And even though you're aching and desperate, Bucky doesn't move fast towards where you want him most. He takes his time trailing his fingers to the inside of your thigh, then grips it in his large palm and drapes your leg over his to open you up even further. The cold air hitting your exposed pussy sends shivers down your spine, and Steve covers your mouth with his own to swallow your high-pitched whine.

"Don't worry, honey," Bucky coos in your ear, nipping your lobe. "We'll take care of you."

Pulling away from Steve and looking over at your other Alpha, you smirk a little. "You better," you tease, reaching up and carding your fingers through his hair, relishing in the quiet groan he lets out. "Because Tori wanted me to tell you that she'll hurt you if you don't."

Both Alphas laugh, nodding along.

"Well, we'll reassure her later that we did everything we could to cherish you the way you deserve," Steve says, kissing your cheek. "Right now, though, we have a job to do."

"And that's to prove to you that we can give you everything you need and want," Bucky finishes for him, sliding his hand to cover your dripping core and smiling deviously when you moan and buck your hips up into it.

"I know you will," You say. And you mean it; you mean it with everything you have. You know in your heart and soul that only they can provide for you. Looking between your best guys, you give them the softest smile. "I know."

Both men curse under their breaths, and Bucky looks down at you with that look in his eyes he only gives you and Steve.

"Can I play with your clit?" His voice is gruff, and it's clear he's holding himself back from absolutely ravishing you. It sends a surge of love straight to your heart and causes more slick to pour out of your quivering hole.

"Please."

Bucky nods, and Steve leans down to encompass your nipple, the one that he's not tugging at while your other Alpha taps your clit a few times. He circles it a few times, pressing down and smirking when you once again push your hips up.

"You're so beautiful like this, do you know that?"

It's an automatic reaction to shake your head in denial of his comment. You want to believe that it's true so badly, but sometimes you still have trouble accepting their compliments. It just doesn't seem real that these two Gods see you as beautiful as they say you are, but part of you likes to think that just makes their opinions that much more real. If these gorgeous Alphas think your appearance captivates them just as much as your heart, then you're hoping you're going to believe them one day.

"You are," Steve growls against your skin, and the sound reverberates through your chest. The sternness in his tone makes you whine, but also causes tears to prick your eyes.

"Say it," Bucky demands, rolling your clit between his fingers. "Tell us what Stevie and I already know." When you don't say anything, he continues. "Tell us you're beautiful; tell us that we're lucky to have you, and I'll slip my finger in that cute little hole."

You want his finger so bad, you want it to fill you completely and get you ready for them, but your emotions get caught in your throat. It's so difficult to say what they want you to say, but when Steve lets his teeth graze your breast and Bucky circles your hole teasingly, you know you'll say or do anything they ask of you as long as they continue to play with your body like this.

"I..." Bucky raises his eyebrow, then softens his expression, and leans down to kiss your forehead. With a deep breath, you look up at him. "I'm beautiful."

"And?" Steve says, releasing your breast and causing you to tremble when the cold air hits your exposed and wet nipple.

"You - You're... You're lucky to - to have me."

"Damn right we are," Both of your men say at the same time, and you'd laugh at their synchronicity if it weren't for Bucky's finger pressing against your opening.

You're wet enough that it doesn't feel that uncomfortable when the very tip of his finger dips in, but your body involuntarily tenses when he tries pushing in deeper.

"It's okay, honey," Bucky coos, and Steve cups your cheek to guide your attention to him.

"Just relax, Omega," He says, kissing your lips briefly. "It's okay, we won't do anything you don't want."

"But..." You trail off, heat creeping up to your face. "I - I really do want it. Just... Just go slow, okay?"

"Of course," Bucky says, Steve nodding in agreement, and the hunger in his eyes doesn't put you off. It actually emboldens you and further cements in your brain that they crave you the way they claim to. "We'll go as slow as you want, sweet girl. We don't have anywhere to be except right here with you."

"We won't even think about our own pleasure until you're completely satisfied," Steve adds, and that alone makes you want to cry.

How did you get so lucky?

"We told you, we are the lucky ones." Bucky's comment makes the heat in your cheeks flare up because you realize you said that out loud.

"So am I, though - oh!" You get cut off when Bucky manages to push his finger in even more until it's halfway inside. "I - I love you, and you love me, and it just - oh God."

Steve doesn't let you finish your sentence because he quickly pecks your lips, and you let his tongue invade your mouth when it asks for entrance by running along your bottom lip.

"We're supposed to praising you, Omega," You hear Bucky say, wiggling the finger inside you. You can't see him, but you're sure he's staring down at your entrance, no doubt aching to feel you fluttering around his cock.

The thought makes you clench down onto his finger, but then immediately relax your body to allow him to push all the way in. It stings, and you kind of wish you prepped yourself a little before coming over, but another part of you loves that they're the ones doing it, that they're more than willing to do the work.

Bucky wiggles his finger again, letting you get used to the feeling. Other than that, he doesn't move his hand, not until you break your kiss with Steve and nod at him.

"You - You can move."

He's slow as he pulls his hand back, though he doesn't allow himself to fully pull out. He gives you time to take a few deep breaths, then pushes back in, repeating the motion leisurely for a while until you're moaning and nodding again.

"Can you... give me another?" His fingers are big, one of them being thicker than two of your own, so you're sure it's going to be a little painful, but you're ready for it. Ready for them.

"Of course, honey." This time, he does pull out of your hole, tracing two of them around your entrance and smiling when you whine pathetically. "Just breathe, okay?"

"Yes, Alpha."

-

"Yes, Alpha."

Bucky wants to combust, is going to implode with how much love he has for you. When you call him 'Alpha', it does things to him. It sends the primal part of his brain into overdrive, making him want to wrap you in his arms and give you the world.

Your body melts into the bed, and he manages to push two thick fingers into your core, stopping as soon as you hiss softly.

"It's okay, honey," Steve whispers into your ear, running his own hand down until he can press down against your clit. "His fingers are big, aren't they?"

"Uh huh," You mumble, wiggling your hips and taking steadying breaths. "So big."

Now, Steve knows from personal experience how big Bucky is, his cock and fingers included. And he knows that Steve can take it - oh boy can he take it, but Bucky knows he needs to be careful with you, no matter how strong his urge to simply take you is.

Steve continues to rub and play with your clit, allowing you to relax your core until Bucky can slip his fingers in further. It takes a little longer to fit both of them fully inside you, having to spread his fingers and go slow as he opens you up so that he's able to press in all the way. The fluttering of your hole makes his cock throb, eager to feel it around his cock, but wants to take his time so that you can actually enjoy it.

"Alright, Omega," Bucky breathes out, having to close his eyes and will himself to pull his fingers out. "Can you take another?"

"Yes!" Your enthusiastic consent forces a rumble from his chest, making that Alpha growl that he knows you like.

"Okay, don't fret, honey," Bucky coos, leaning down and giving you a nearly filthy kiss before pulling back. "Now, this may hurt. Just remember to breathe and relax."

He waits for you to nod before he presses the tips of three fingers against your hole. He goes even slower when opening you up this time, and he doesn't mind that it takes longer to be able to finger you properly. It seems like it takes a lifetime for him to be able to move faster, but he doesn't mind, not in the slightest. He's willing to age twenty years until you're truly ready. The glazed over look in your eyes makes him want to cry with how absolutely sweet you are, your scent of arousal filling his nostrils as he inhales deeply.

"Can I ask you something?" Bucky asks, and he wasn't planning on it, but when he pulls his hand away and looks at his glistening fingers, he knows he needs to taste you.

"What is it?"

"Have you ever had your pretty pussy eaten out?"

“Oh.” Your eyes go wide and your hips involuntarily wiggle. “Um, no - no one’s ever… done that.”

“Can I be your first?” Bucky is practically salivating at the thought of burying his face between your legs, and he can feel his knot throb as he imagines the moans you’ll make.

“Oh, oh - um. Yes, you can... do that.” You sound caught off guard, and for a moment Bucky thinks you might be complying simply because he asked, but then you thrust your hips upwards and whine  “Please.”

Bucky can’t help the cheshire-like grin that envelops itself across his face, and he quickly nods, then looks at Steve.

“How about you get behind her and sit her on your lap; it’ll be easier that way.”

His mate nods eagerly, and they both look to you for your consent, which you give them with a nod of your own. They both lean back; Bucky helping you sit up so that Steve can shuffle to sit behind you. Bucky lets you scoot back so you can settle against Steve’s chest, and Bucky just can’t stop himself from staring at you both for a few moments. You’re just so beautiful, and seeing Steve’s hands holding your waist makes him desperate to watch you two make love.

But first, he has a job to do.

Bucky maneuvers his body so he can lay on his stomach between your legs, and he takes one of your calves in his hands. Slowly, he trails kisses from your ankle up to the inside of your thigh, then lifts it so he can lay it over Steve’s leg. He does the same with your other leg, though this time he gives you a few nibbles, which he licks after to soothe the mild sting.

Once both of your legs are spread, your glistening pussy is on full display, and Bucky doesn’t even want to stop the groan he lets out, he needs to let you know that he’s enjoying this almost as much as you are.

Leaning forward, he inhales your scent where it’s strongest, and he moans even louder, unable not to spread your lower lips to fully view your most intimate parts. Looking up at you, he gives you a gentle smile, then delicately kisses your clit.

“If you want me to stop, just let me know.” At your nod, and a smile of your own, he dives in further, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit several times and relishing in your shocked gasp.

Flattening his tongue, he licks a long stripe from your leaking hole back up to your clit, then wraps his lips around it and suckles, giving you time to adjust to the feeling. But soon enough, his hunger overtakes him, and he dips his tongue into your loosened hole, sticking it in as far as he can so he can drink down your essence. He keeps his eyes on your euphoric expressions, watching carefully to find out which of his actions makes you tremble the most. And you seem to be more than okay with what he’s doing, especially when he licks back up to your clit and teases your entrance with the tips of two fingers.

“Oh! Alpha, yes!”

Your begging sends shivers down Bucky’s spine, and he groans into your pussy, taking mercy on you and fitting them inside you. He continues to lick and suck your clit while simultaneously picking up the speed at which he fingers you, though he’s careful not to overwhelm you. He watches as Steve covers one of your hands with his own and threads your fingers together, then guides your other hand to grip Bucky’s hair.

“Does she taste as good as we thought?” Steve asks, his voice gruff.

“So much better,” Bucky says, leaning back just enough to be heard. His admission must have done something to you because you thrust your hips against his face and whine, high-pitched and loud.

Bucky might actually die; he feels as though he is dead, has passed over into the afterlife, and is now on his way to heaven. The way you grind your hips against his face makes his cock throb, makes him want to hump against the bed to relieve the ache - he won't, though, because he knows he'll cum too soon if he does.

“Buck,” Steve says some time later, out of breath as though he was the one who couldn’t breathe because he was devouring you.

“What, punk?” Bucky asks, pulling away and practically glaring at him, annoyed that he was stopped when you were on your way to release.

“Are you gonna let me have a taste too?”

“So needy,” He chuckles, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a smirk at the same time he rolls his eyes.

Bucky surges up, ignoring your whine as he leans over your body so he can immediately lick into Steve’s mouth. Your slick covers Bucky’s chin, and once your taste is almost gone from his mouth, Steve starts cleaning his Alpha’s face with his tongue, groaning deeply.

“You were right, jerk,” Steve says when he’s done, then turns to find you’ve been watching them. He pecks your lips, then smirks at you. “You’re delicious.”

“Alphas, please!”

“Please what, honey?” Bucky teases, taking your hand out of his hair and kissing your palm. “What do you want?”

“I…” You pause, chewing on your lip in a nervous gesture. “I want you… inside me.”

Both Alphas curse, and the men share a look before turning back to you.

“Both of us won’t fuck you tonight,” Bucky starts, cutting off your disappointed whine with a brief kiss. “We don’t want to overwhelm you. So, we’ll let you choose.”

“Oh.” You look conflicted, eyes flicking between both men as though it’s an impossible choice to make. And after a while, Steve kisses your temple, rubbing your sides.

“How about Bucky takes you first? And then we can work up to both of us later.” Steve’s offer seems to please you, and you turn to look at him over his shoulder.

“Are you sure, Stevie?”

“I’m sure,” Steve assures, bringing up your joined hands and kissing your knuckles. “As a matter of fact, I want to watch you two. I can take care of myself, okay?”

“O-Okay.”

“Okay, honey. We’re going to take off our boxers now,” Bucky says, and both of them carefully extract themselves from your body so they can stand next to the bed. Both of them take a deep breath, keeping their eyes on you while they peel off their underwear and let them fall to the floor.

“That’s not going to fit.” Your blunt statement makes them both laugh a little, and Bucky shakes his head.

“We’ll make it fit, Omega. But…” Bucky trails off, glancing at Steve and seeing his reassuring smile. “How about you just sit on it for a little bit? It will get you used to the feeling.”

You squirm in place, your hands twisting in the bed sheets you're laying on as you contemplate the offer. Finally, you nod, sitting up and shuffling around so Bucky can sit on the bed with his back leaning against the head board. They both help you straddle Bucky's lap, kneeling above him as he holds your hips. He hisses when Steve grabs the base of his sensitive cock, relishing in the grip as his mate positions the tip at your entrance.

"Are you ready, honey?" Bucky asks, looking up at you. He can hear how fast your heart is beating, can practically feel you vibrating in place with anxiety. He's not sure if it's good or bad, and you have a hesitant look on your face, but you nod anyway, leaning down to quickly kiss him.

"Yeah, just..." You trail off, chewing on your lower lip briefly. "Go slow?"

"Of course, honey," Bucky assures, squeezing your sides affectionately.

"We've got all night," Steve adds, pressing a kiss to your temple. "If you want to stop or take a break, just let us know. There's no need to rush, okay? We'll take this at your pace."

"Okay," You say, taking a deep breath. "I trust you both."

You have no idea what that simple sentence does to Bucky. You trust him? Him? Bucky Barnes? The Winter Soldier? He understands Steve; he's Captain Fucking America; of course, he can be trusted to protect you. But sometimes it's still wild to Bucky that you trust him to do that as well.

It's something he'll never take for granted.

-

"I trust you both."

You mean it when you say it. You trust your Alphas with your life, taking solace in the fact that they'll care for and covet you, so you're not worried about that. It's just... You've never felt like this towards anyone; you don't think you'll ever feel so much love and adoration for another man, not that you want to. You fully intend on bonding with them and marrying them, creating a future together filled with happiness and joy. In fact, you're not actually sure what you'd do if you didn't spend the rest of your life with them.

You refuse to find out.

They're careful when helping you sit, Steve keeping his hold on Bucky's knot while snaking his other hand down your front to your pussy. Spreading your lower lips, you shiver at the touch, anticipation building in your core and heart as they remind you to take deep breaths.

It's been a long, long time since you've had sex, so the initial sting isn't surprising. What is surprising, however, is how quickly the pain dulls, fading away to pleasure. Steve's finger lightly toying with your clit also helps, forcing more slick to drip from your hole and practically soak Bucky's cock. Despite feeling like he's already deep in your stomach, you look down and find that he's only about halfway inside you, and you continue taking deep breaths.

It takes a few minutes for you to feel ready enough to sit down all the way; loud moans and whines fill the room. It's overwhelming in the best possible way - Bucky rubbing your waist to soothe you while Steve continues flicking your clit.

"Fuck." Even you are shocked at your exclamation, you rarely curse; it's just not in your nature. But it's the only thing that comes to mind, and your internal filter is practically nonexistent at this point. Your head is filled with thoughts of how much you love your Alphas, how much you crave them, and how you know you're immediately addicted to his cock. You won't take Steve tonight, but you're sure you'll become obsessed with his too.

It's just too good. Feeling Bucky's cock pulsing in your pussy sends shivers down your spine, electricity thrumming throughout your body and causing fuzziness in your mind.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, continuing to rub your nub and moving his hand from Bucky's cock to your breast, softly tugging and tweaking your nipple.

"Better," You say breathlessly, turning your head to look at him. "So much better than okay."

"Good. That's good, Omega," Bucky grits out, and you will applaud him later for his strength and willpower to not immediately fuck you. You know you're tight, squeezing his member as though you never want to let him leave your body - which, to be fair, you don't. You'd live happily for the rest of your life like this, surrounding and filled with your best guys.

"Are you okay, Buck?" Steve teases, and you smile a little at the smirk he gives the other man. "How does she feel? Tell me." The huskiness in Steve's voice gives away his eagerness, and it leaves you feeling disappointed that you won't take him tonight while also anticipating for when you finally do.

"Like fucking heaven." Bucky tightly shuts his eyes, breathing steadily through the intense waves of pleasure. "Our Omega is so tight, so fucking wet. Don't ever want to leave her pretty pussy."

The way they talk about you like you're not even here gets you even more soaked, unable to stop the pathetic whimper that escapes your lips. Nor are you able to stop yourself from wiggling in place, heat flooding your veins as Bucky's cock shifts inside you.

"He's so greedy, isn't he, honey?" Steve asks you playfully, chuckling to himself when you nod, clearly loving your dazed state. "Not that I blame him. We've both dreamt about you, how perfect you'd be for us. We'd wake up hard as hell, desperate to call you so we can get off to your voice. We didn't know how you would feel about that, though, so we'd take care of ourselves. But you're what we think about when we have sex; we moan your name, imagining you here with us so we can love on you too, give you everything you need."

Steve's endless praise lights you on fire, your hind brain going feral over how soft his tone yet how filthy the words he's spewing is.

"I -" Pausing, you squirm again, moaning at the jolt of pleasure. "I think about you too. When... When I t-touch myself." The admission doesn't scare you like you thought it would; you're too in love with them to be embarrassed about being so vulnerable.

But your admission makes Bucky's hips stutter upwards, causing you to bounce slightly. Everyone moans, and you feel Steve's painfully hard erection rut against your backside, and you take great pride in knowing that they're clearly pleased.

"God, you're just perfect, aren't you?" Bucky sounds out of breath, like he's just ran a marathon and hasn't recovered yet. He raises his eyebrows when you start to shake your head, taking you by surprise when he lightly pinches your side - not nearly enough to hurt, just acting as a warning.

"Say it, Omega," Steve urges, rubbing your clit a little faster. "Tell us that you're perfect, and then we'll let you ride Buck like I know you're desperate to."

"I'm... perfect." You don't really believe it, but you know you'll say just about anything in order to get what you want. And, judging by the looks on both of their faces, they don't believe that you mean it either.

"One day you'll see yourself how we do; the sweet, perfect Omega that you are. And we'll be right here when you do."

Steve's words make you want to cry; they bring tears to your eyes and a surge of love through your heart. How did you get so lucky?

You don't get much time to dwell on that because Steve squeezes your breast tighter at the same time that Bucky grips your hips and guides them to grind down on his lap. More moans emanate through the air, focusing on how good it feels to be loved by these perfect Alphas, how good you feel being filled to the brim with cock.

Before long, Bucky takes your hands and places them on his shoulders, his breath hitching when you delicately rub your thumb along the scars. You know he can't feel much of it, but you hope he understands the gesture when you lean down to kiss the marks. It doesn't take but a few minutes of gyrating until you voluntarily raise up a few inches, then sink down in one fluid motion, squeezing your eyes shut because you can feel that you're about to cum but you're pleading with your body not to let you, not yet. You don't want this to end just yet.

You lift up again, then sit down with a little more force, relishing in your Alphas' groans. You feel powerful like this, taking what you want with more and more determination until you position your lower half in such a way that the tip of Bucky's cock presses into that special spot deep inside your core.

"Alpha!"

"Is that it, Omega?" Bucky asks through a clenched jaw, his pupils blown wide as he stares down at where your bodies meet, entranced by the sight of his soaked cock. "Did I hit your spot? You feelin' good?"

"So - oh!" You can't stop riding him even when the burn in your hips increases, and you know you'll be sore tomorrow, but you couldn't care less right now. All you care about is getting off and making your guys feel as good as you do. "I'm gonna cum!"

"Do it, 'Mega," Steve says, rubbing your clit furiously, smirking into your neck when he ducks his head and licks and sucks the skin around your scent gland. "Cum for us, show us how beautiful you are when you fall apart. Show us how sweet you are for us."

You can tell Bucky is close too based on the rapidity of his chest rising and falling, the flush covering his body, the tensing of his abs. But you can also tell that he's holding back until you break first, and your inner Omega preens at the display of restraint, knowing that he's strong enough to please you first before he allows himself his own release.

"Cum."

You're not sure who ordered it, but you don't really care. Your body tensing and your pussy clamping down on Bucky's knot as it locks inside you, waves of ecstasy washing over you until tears start streaming down your face. It seems like forever but also no time at all before you slump forward into Bucky's chest, aftershocks of your orgasm causing you to quake when you feel his own cum flood your hole, getting locked in by his fully blown knot.

You're still whimpering and crying into Bucky's chest as you come down from your high; too many positive emotions swirling in your body and mind that it can't help but pour out of you.

"Honey?" Someone asks, clearly concerned, and you shake your head.

"I - I'm okay," You assure them, focusing on the hands caressing your body. "I just... I just love you both so, so much."

"We love you too, Omega." You recognize the voice as Bucky's, your cries dwindling into sniffles until you try to sit up, but fall forward almost immediately due to how weak you feel.

"It's okay, just stay like that, honey," Steve says gently, moving from behind you to kneel at your side and rub your back. "Rest."

"But..." Breathing deeply, you feel a sense of guilt when you look down and see that Steve is still hard. You want him to get off too, eager to see him lose himself, wanting so badly to touch him and give him his own orgasm. "You didn't..."

"Oh, honey," Steve coos, smiling at you sweetly when you trail off and don't continue. "You're worried because I didn't cum?"

Shyly nodding your head, you force yourself to maintain eye contact, slowly reaching out for him.

"Can - Can I... I wanna -" You're cut off by both Alpha's groaning, squeaking a little when you feel Bucky's cock twitch.

"You wanna touch our Alpha?" Bucky asks, kissing your forehead. "You can if you want. Touch him all you want."

"It's okay," Steve coos, shuffling forward until your hand is mere inches from his twitching cock. "Go ahead, honey. Touch me. Make me cum."

Even though it's phrased as an order, you know he's not demanding it; he'd never pressure you to do anything you don't feel fully comfortable with. And that's why you finally take his cock in your hand, positive that you want to make him feel good.

It takes no time at all before the base of Steve's cock grows, only allowing you to pump it a few times before the telltale signs of his orgasm crescendo into a full body shudder. He's clearly so worked up that he can barely last a minute with your hand on him, and it makes you feel like the luckiest Omega alive.

Bucky takes you by surprise when he wraps one arm around your back, steadying you against his torso while gripping one of Steve's ass cheeks in his wide palm, leaning forward and taking the tip of his dick in his mouth as soon as the first spurt of cum leaks out.

You're entranced by the sight of your Alpha swallowing your other Alpha's cum, and you're almost a little jealous that you're not tasting it, but the sight alone is enough to make you want to watch Bucky really suck Steve off. Images flash through your mind of them teaching you how to take them in your mouth, and you shiver at the thought but decide to keep it to yourself for the meantime.

Once everything is said and done and everyone is satisfied, Steve lays back against the headboard next to Bucky, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. Yawning, you all chuckle a little, soothing hands rubbing your back and sides as your eyes start fluttering with the need for sleep overtaking your mind.

"Go to sleep, honey," Bucky whispers against the top of your head, tilting your head up so he can kiss your lips. "We'll talk in the morning."

"Okay," You whisper back, accepting Steve's kiss then resting your head against Bucky's chest once more. "I love you both," You murmur, your eyes shutting completely, letting the happiness settle into your bones and succumbing to the exhaustion.

"We love you too, Omega."

You fall asleep with a smile on your face, dreams filled with a little house and a home art studio, excited for the future.

-

m&h masterlist: @the-ginger-fairy-artist / @supernovatardis / @kandis-mom / @wandaneedstherapy / @bigcreatorwombatdreamer / @venusfly11 / @clownsbf / @matsumama / @thornsnvultures / @sadboiabby / @lily-excal / @alright-i-guesss / @blondie-bluue / @loveforreading / @marvel-wifey-86 / @wheezy-stucky / @exposition-belongs-somewhere / @stuckysbike / @starkblackwolf / @caitlink26 / @dreaming-potato / @emeraldfairy23 / @lethargicluv / @perfectlyboring / @monicachic13 / @akmenia / @hc-kerr / @iamfandomwasted / @wizardofstories / @emerald-writes / @matchat3a  / @mollygetssherlockcoffee / @normalgirlnextdoor / @lolitsbuckybarnes / @rippedpiece / @lauratang

main taglist: @lilyalone / @crazyunsexycool / @yeehawbrothers / @buckyssweetheart / @buckysprettybaby / @heytheredelulu / @ozwriterchick / @pxgeturner / @gentlelimerence  

[karikitdemonrp]

"I'm just glad that you're enjoying yourself, my love." The kitsune purred softly, continuing to kiss along Kohaku's neck and jawline for a moment, only pausing when Kohaku turned to allow Kohaku to return the gesture. The kitsune's tail swayed in the water, hands moving to wrap around Kohaku's waist loosely and just resting there.

Core purred, moving his head to get a bit closer to Kohaku's neck again, this time instead of kissing the demon slayer, Core moved to gently nibble on Kohaku's neck with a gentle passion. The kitsune was not rough in his affection, despite his want to be a bit rougher he knew better. Core's bites were soft, barely even applying pressure to Kohaku's skin. After a moment he stopped, hands moving to now massage along Kohaku's back, starting at the waist and working his way up. "Ko~Ha~Ku~." The kitsune hummed in the demon slayer's ear.

"You're so tense. You must've been pushing yourself a bit too much. You really shouldn't do that while you're wounded. Just relax and I'll take care of you." The kitsune purred softly, thinking up what herbs he could gather for future baths that could help the water smell more soothing. Sure he had gathered a few, but one could never be too careful when stocking up on herbs. Maybe he could talk with the locals about learning how to care for a small patch of herbs so he could grow his own not too far from this little paradise of theirs. Having herbs nearby could be nice, not really having to travel far for herbs in their bath. Not only that but it might be helpful to have these herbs to add to their meals.

The idea was nice, but what was nicer was that it seemed to make Kohaku happy. Just having his lover so happy made Core happy. He'd do anything to keep the demon slayer happy. "Kohaku, I love you so much. You know I'd do anything for you, anything to see your smile, right?" He asked in a soft tone, barely above a whisper. His voice was laced with passion and love for the other, continuing to nip and kiss on Kohaku's neck, now moving to do the same along the demon slayer's shoulder.

Kohaku let out a low hum of approval as Core’s hands worked into his shoulders, the gentle pressure easing away tension he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. His head tilted slightly to the side, allowing the kitsune better access as soft lips pressed against his skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. “You being bold?” He smirked, turning his head just enough to meet Core’s gaze. “I think I like it.”

His smirk softened into something more tender as Core spoke, his words filled with so much love and thoughtfulness that it made Kohaku’s chest ache in the best way. He leaned back slightly into Core’s touch, eyes half-lidded in relaxation. “You really are incredible, you know that?” He murmured, reaching up to lace his fingers with Core’s for a moment before giving his hand a squeeze. “To think you put so much time and effort into this… Just for me. It’s overwhelming in the best way.”

His free hand reached into the water, fingers lazily tracing patterns along the surface as he sighed contentedly. “I think a warm bath after a long day sounds perfect. Especially if it means I get your massages as part of the deal.” He chuckled, his tone teasing but undeniably pleased. “And I wouldn’t be opposed to those herbs either. Maybe something soothing. Though I doubt anything could be more relaxing than this right now.”

Kohaku shivered slightly as Core’s lips brushed against his earlobe, his voice a soft purr in his ear. His fingers tightened slightly around Core’s before he let go, turning just enough to look at the kitsune fully. His golden eyes gleamed with something fond yet mischievous. “Our little paradise, huh?” He murmured, reaching up to cup Core’s cheek. “I like the sound of that. Just you and me, away from the world, taking time to actually enjoy things.” His fingers traced down Core’s jawline before he tugged him into a slow, lingering kiss.

[brittle-doughie]

(Sorry if my English is wrong, because I'm using a translator)

Man, I'm a recent fan of your content since I started playing CRK again just a whole month ago because of Shadow Milk Cookie (Whoever I can catch with 120 pulls, the same number I caught the awesome Vanilla Lol) and let's just say I stalked your account and stuff... But what I can say is that your writing is very unique and pleasant to read since there are no long descriptions, something I love but sometimes my brain bugs out and stuff, and then I realize that you put love into your content

But anyway, enough of the rambling and fangirling and let's get straight to the content I want to comment on:

Today's Soul Jam victim Y/N -

What we know about them: A Soul Jam created alongside the others but unlike them, they don't have a Cookie but rather have a form and they show resentment (hatred in its purest form) that the other Soul Jams have receptacles

My idea:

As I know, Soul Jam's were created and given to the Beasts before they collapsed, and with that comes my idea of ​​what if Soul Jam Y/N also had a Beast

The relationship between the two was very different from the others because they interacted at every opportunity, had inside jokes, judged the other cookies and even the witches, and to the point that their Hero nicknamed them 'Y/N'

Everyone could see that they had a special bond, a bond that no other hero and Soul Jam had

But then the corruption happens, one by one the heroes fall, all except Y/N's hero, they were the only one left standing, the only one who resisted the corruption...

Because of this, the witches asked the hero to stop those who were once their friends, at first they didn't know what to do "They're my friends! But they're hurting the other cookies! But the other cookies also made big requests! What should I do?!" So they asked for time to think, something very short at the moment and had a conversation with Soul Jam Y/N

"What should I do Y/N...?"

"...This is a decision that I would say is easy from the outside point of view, but from the inside it is the hardest to make..."

"... So there is no answer...?"

"There is an answer, this answer will be the right one, I trust you ██████ Cookie!"

"Heh... thanks but I don't know... What if I make the wrong choice instead of the right one, what if I make the right choice for others and make the wrong one for my friends! I don't want to hurt them, they're already hurt by the cruel fate of immortality"

"You're a kind cookie, I'm sure you'll manage"

"...What if it was all my fault..."

"Hmm..?"

"What if I had been a better friend, noticed the signs earlier, stopped them in time... Maybe they wouldn't have to do this, maybe everything could be the same as before..."

"It's not like that-"

"It would have been better if I was the one to be corrupted..."

" ██████ Cookie!"

"I'm sorry Y/N, but I've already made up my mind, I'll go with them, I'll be sealed with them, but don't worry okay? You won't get caught, you can live your life and find a better cookie than me to be your user"

"Wait ██████ Cookie! Don't go!"

"Goodbye Y/N, I hope you can discover new things in this incredible world"

That was the last conversation the hero and Soul Jam Y/N had, the hero agreed to help the witches in exchange for being sealed with his friends, something that was conceived, during the purity of the Soul Jam's they did not purify Y/N because they were not corrupted

But then why did Y/N feel empty? Why did they feel like everything was wrong? Why did they feel like crying when they didn't even have a body? Why was ██████ Cookie gone?

Time passed and the other Soul Jam's found new users, but Y/N was left in the dark

They felt jealous of their companions, of how they moved on while they still mourned the loss of their Hero, of how they gave their power to their Heroes, while Y/N remembered the times when her Hero borrowed her power to help their friends, how they guide them to the right path, while Y/N remembers all the times they and their Hero would talk through sleepless nights when everyone else was asleep, how they would guide their Heroes through their darkest moments, while Y/N couldn't see him one last time properly

They were jealous, they wanted a Hero, but at the same time they couldn't, they couldn't move on, they couldn't accept another Hero, they couldn't find another cookie as their Hero

So they thought, if I can't have a Hero why can't I be my Hero?

So they did it, created their cookie form and bam! They could walk, touch and feel the Bread Land without any effort!

But at the same time, they hoped to find their Hero once again, maybe they could be like they were before...

Tadaa~ So what did you think of my idea?

-Just a Person

I think it’s a solid enough foundation.

[bloodybreakupscene]

-> 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓.

joaquin torres x reader

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ [desc.] :: a short drabble between you and joaquin, from when you first met, to how it's going.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ [a/n] :: HEEEYYYY it's me after... checks clock... two years?? finally got into writing again soooo expect marvel fics... who's excited for the new daredevil show... and that new spidey show is good too ALSO MARVEL RIVALS–

you slave away on your computer, dragging and dropping files, typing them up, doing whatever with them! god, you didn't think a government job would have you doing so much boring tedious work. you scroll and scroll onwards and it's a wonder your finger hasn't fallen off yet. ‘i guess i can't see president ross doing any of this stuff.’ you comment to yourself.

joaquin looks at you, well, it lingers– okay he's staring. he always does, he can't help it! ever since you started working here he can't stop. he walks by your office everyday since it's on his way to where he usually works. he's talked to you a couple times, did the thing where you nod to each other to acknowledge the other's presence. you even say good morning! that means you guys are like.. close right? at least work friends.

“so.. i went on a mission, couple days ago. pretty good, beat up a couple guys.” he blurts out, body leaning on your doorway, causing you to looking away from your own computer.

“oh really?”

“yeah.” he brags, “you should've been there, even sam was impressed.”

“i would've liked to, during work i don't look anywhere other than this damn computer,” you laugh.”

“y'know maybe, maybe we could–”

“joaquin, need you out front.” sam wilson calls from his comms, the voice of captain america sounding through the speakers.

“i think he needs you.” you smile at him, he smiles back but he's disappointed again, he wanted to ask you out! for coffee or whatever government coworkers do!

joaquin complains to sam about this later, talking about how he ruined his chances and how he needs to “hop off and let him soar” whatever the hell that meant, sam would've gotten on his case if he didn't scurry away as soon as they arrived back at base. running straight towards your working grounds.

he chills out before walking in the room. checking his hair, face, etc, etc. as he's fixing his uniform, you tap on his shoulder, eliciting a jolt from him.

“hey, whatcha’ waiting for?” you ask wondering why he was looking at his reflection in his blacked out phone screen, seemingly about to walk into your room with no one in it.

“oh, y'know, was waiting for you actually, about earlier i was gonna ask you… if you…” he nervously taps his sides with his hands, chuckling a bit; it's not like… not like he liked you! he just likes looking at you, yeah.. that seemed right. definitely.

“if i..?” you question, voice laced with confusion, but you had an idea of what he was attempting to ask.

“if like, you know, wanna go out with me, do whatever, i like going to the gym, if you couldn't tell.” he holds up his arms, muscles prominent but not bulging.

you can't help but stiffle a giggle, whether it was because of his– albeit– childish attempt at impressing you or because of his overall cuteness is up to debate.

“sure, why not, i'll be off at five…ish? later. we can go get dinner or something.”

“yeah! yeah of course, ill stop by later then, count on it.” he winks, as you walk back into your room. when you closed the door he nearly skipped his way back to his own work base.

after this moment you two became surprisingly close, he wasn't the awkward overcompensater from when you first met. he was genuinely funny, and charming too! wow, what a package deal, you think.

–

days passed and the situation with the former president is finally over. you're unsettled with it all and you're on your way to joaquin's hospital room. you're upset he got dragged in so far but you did know it was a part of his job, still it made you soured your mood.

“hey joaquin.. how you doing today?” you walk in, sitting by his bed.

“better, thanks.. for being here.” he tries sitting up, groaning in the process.

“don't, you're gonna hurt yourself more.” your hand falls onto his, almost like natural instinct.

“sorry we haven't.. been able to go out lately. didn't think i'd get shot down from the sky.” he laughs, but with only a hint of humor in his actual tone.

you stare at him for a second, looking at his eyes, examining the damage. “you.. no. don't apologize, you'll get better. i know it.”

“can't wait to get outta here, we should get ice cream. i need something sweet or i might die.”

“hmm, to be fair you did almost die.” you lay your head on your hand, leaning closer to him.

“you're right, so that means we gotta go.” he glances at you, noticing your drowsy reddish eyes.

“mhm. m’ tired. didn't sleep last night.”

“why not?” he looks at you concerned.

“worried about you, haha..” you lean off of your hand, head landing on his lap. he watches as you slowly drift to sleep, still holding his hand, fingers interlocked.

his face is slowly fades into a pink color, and he holds your hand tighter, he falls asleep in this state as well, not wanting anything to ruin this moment between the two of you.