#like please brain just let me finish two things
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đ„Č With the way my period went last week, this fic was on my brain constantly. But my god, Bug, I needed time to digest this masterpiece. (I've also saved various of your other works in my drafts to comment on later. I apologize for the reblog spam that is about to happen.)
Kay, now. Let's dive in, shall we? đ„°
Joel wakes up early the next morning and greets you with a kiss pressed to the side of your head. âFuck off,â you mumble, your voice is still thick with sleep but he knows you mean it so he lets you sleep in a bit while he cleans the bathroom for you. He works as quietly as he can, scrubbing it and mopping it from top to bottom. He empties the trash can and the laundry hamper, he makes sure thereâs a fresh bar of soap and a new washrag for you. Joelâs just finishing up and wiping dust from the mirror when you find him in the bathroom. âMorninâ, sunshine,â he says as he kisses the top of your head. âHow do you feel?â
What a sweet, sweet, kind man. If I woke up to a freshly cleaned bathroom while on my period, I'd probably cry.
âI didnât ask you to do that,â you mumble. âThe bleach you used makes my head hurt worse.â
đ„Č Ma'am. I get it. But. The sweet man.
If looks could fuckinâ kill, Joel thinks. Youâre glaring at him. He takes that as his cue to leave. You shrink away from him as he gently brushes your arm when he walks past, then shut the door loudly behind him. Ouch. Joel knows not to take it personally, though. Youâre crampy, but youâre also probably hungry. Heâll make you breakfast, something with protein because he knows you need it.Â
Sorry, did you say saint??? Saint Joel???
âI didnât hear ya, sweetheart. Speak up, please.â âI said yes,â you snap. Your clipped tone cuts like a knife. Joel bites his inner cheek as he takes your plate from you.
đ« The disrespect. The bitten cheek. (Loved that bit. His annoyance is growing, but he's still keeping his cool. Again, did someone say saint??)
âNo. I donât care,â you interrupt, which hurts Joelâs feelings a little. A lot, actually.
S' OKAY, SWEET BABY. C'MERE. MAMA'S GOT YOU.
âYour glasses broke.â âYeah. I see that.â âI didnât mean to,â you tell him defensively. âRight.â âBut you really shouldnât leave your glasses there, Joel.â
Breaking the silence, Joel finally clears his throat and continues his thought, âIâm gonna give you two options,â Joel says. âYou can walk the fuck away from me, or you can get on your knees. Whichever you choose, you do so silently. Nod if you understand.âÂ
âYouâve earned yourself brownie points choosinâ the latter of the two options, but this still ainât gonna be fun for you,â he says.
S' okay đ„Č I was a bitch đ„Č I deserve it đ„Č Do with me as you please đ„Čđ„Čđ„Č
He draws out of your mouth entirely only to force his way back in, making you gag and sputter. You attempt to pull away but Joel keeps his hand firm on your head and holds you right where he wants you. âNuh-uh. I donât know where you think youâre goinâ, hon.â
âQuiet,â he growls. âHeard fuckinâ enough outta you today. You keep quiet.â
đ«Ą Sir yes, sir.
âLet it be a lesson to ya, then, if it hurts. That mouth âa yours has done nothinâ but bitch and moan at me today. Sâa punishment, ainât âsposed to feel good.â
I have really bad news for you, then. Ahem.
âBecause if I donât fuck you,â he says, âThen Iâm gonna strangle you. So which would you like?â
âI will wash the fucking sheets. We can add it to the list of all the things Iâve done for ya today, hm?â
Ohhh, he's done done. I just *loved* this bit. The frustration, how fed up he is with the reader. Suddenly you're concerned about causing a little bit of work? Oh, hohoho, no no no. Too fucking late.
Joel had assumed sexual frustration had been playing a role in your attitude today. Cramps, headaches, all sorts of things going on with you and a needy, aching pussy to boot. He does feel sorry for you, but he feels sorry for himself too. Itâs why he got his first, but now itâs time for you to get yours. An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary.Â
đ© Ma'am. Please. I can only take so much. The hotness in just this ONE paragraph. PLEASE. đ© "An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary." đ„Č I am a puddle on the floor.
Joel takes his free hand and uses it to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the feeling of it all. You come hard, gushing on his fingers as you whimper his name.
đ« đđ« đ
âQuiet,â he commands. He begins teasing your slit with his cock once more before he speaks, âSo this is what weâre gonna do: youâre gonna take what I give you, however much or little it is. Youâre not gonna cry or complain âcause youâve done enough of that today. Right?â Joel pauses, âNod your head.â
âI know, I know, sweetheart,â he coos at you to quiet you down. âYouâre all out of sorts today. Mâgonna fix it. I always fix it, donât I?â
*inhales* - *screams*
He fucks you without discipline, no tenderness at all to the action with those sloppy thrusts, but youâre more lost in him than he is in you - heâs focused on your face, watching you make an âOâ with your mouth, and heâs focused on your bouncing body, your twitching thighs spread wide. Your moans, your whimpers and your whines, babbling nothing but nonsense. Joelâs brow is furrowed as he breathes heavily through his teeth, his soft body jerking above you as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over and over⊠âItâs all ya needed, isnât it? The whole goddamn time,â he pants. âDidnât need to go anâ bitch me out all day if you needed lovinâ like this. Woulda been nice fâya just said so.â
đ¶ I have died and am now reading this from the depth of hell. Fuuuuck me!
âAlways the tears with you, huh?â he taunts. âAlways somethinâ. Oh, I know. I know.âÂ
The fucking "I know"s kill me. Like, I didn't know two simple words like that could do the things to me that they're doing. But here we are. Is that a kink? Is there an "I know" kink? I think I have it.
âYouâre gonna tell me what you need,â he instructs, âAnd youâre gonna ask for it. Nicely. So that means usinâ your manners. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. Remember those words?â
Youâre surprised when he returns to you, pelvis covered in your blood, and scoops you right up in his arms. He helps you to your feet and on shaky legs, guides you to the bathroom. It no longer smells like bleach but instead, lavender. Heâs got a candle lit on the sink and the bathtub is filled with warm, bubbly water. âPicked out a bubble bath for you earlier when I went out. Wanna test it out with me?â
đđđ SAY IT WITH ME: JOEL MILLER IS A FUCKING SAINT. A SAINT THAT FUCKS, BUT A SAINT NONETHELESS.
Christ on a cracker, this was delicious from start to finish. I think you have had a lasting impact on how I see (and am trying to write) smut. đźâđšđźâđšđźâđš
Thank you indeed. đ A masterpiece!!!!
Seeing Red
âBecause if I donât fuck you,â he says, âThen Iâm gonna strangle you. So which would you like?â
Joelâs sorry that your period sucks, but he's reached the end of his rope with your attitude. (6k)
Tags - 18+ smut, brat taming, blow jobs, face fucking, rough period sex, fingering, mating press, overstimulation and multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare in the form of a shared bubble bath, all things periods and period symptoms so headaches, breast pain, cramps, irritability that reader takes out on Joel. You will feel so bad for being such a cunt to this man but he gets to fill two of your holes with his cum so it all kind of evens out. takes place in jackson Fic help - @beefrobeefcal and @joelsdagger for all of their love and support and eyeballs, @noxturnalpascal and @endlessthxxghts thank you both for being my compass and giving me direction and helping to make this fic perfect. I love you <3 A/N - if you're on your period, i'm sending you a hug <3 if you're not i'm hugging you too
I was reminded of my friend @covetyou's fic "Sleepless" which is a lovely piece of classic literature, just like the rest of her works, and I'd like to credit her for inspo. Thank you Lo đ€đ©·đ
You should have guessed thereâd be a bloodstain in your underwear, but despite the headaches, your sore breasts, and your cramping abdomen, youâre surprised when youâre met with rusty red in your panties. Fucking great, you whisper, dripping with sarcasm, this is not what you needed today. You had so many things you wanted to get done and now you were going to be spending the whole day miserable and in pain.
âJoel,â you loudly call out. You wait a beat, nothing. âJOEL,â you yell louder.Â
You hear the faint sound of his recliner, the popping of his knees and the creaking of the stairs as he walks up them. His two feet are visible through the space between the floor and the bathroom door and then he knocks, âWhatcha need, darlinâ?â
âNew underwear,â you answer. âAnd a pad. Also in the underwear drawer.âÂ
Joel walks away and returns with what youâve asked for and slides both items under the door. You change your panties and secure the pad made of old rags and t-shirts with the clothespin attached to it. âYou got it?â he asks.
âYeah,â you reply.
âGuessinâ you just started your cycle, then.âÂ
âMhm.âÂ
âCan I get you anything?â
âNope,â you answer. âI think Iâm just gonna go to bed.âÂ
âAlright. Iâll join you, then.âÂ
 You wash your hands and rinse the bloodstain out of your panties with annoyance in the sink, wringing them out before tossing them in the dirty laundry hamper in the bathroom. When you unlock the door and leave the bathroom, Joelâs already asleep in your shared bed. He sleeps curled on his side and yet he still fucking snores - between that and the pain youâre in, you know it wonât be a restful night of sleep. You look at Joel, sleeping peacefully like a baby, and yet you wanna beat the living fucking crap out of him. You curl your body around his, stealing his body heat to soothe your cramps.Â
Joel wakes up early the next morning and greets you with a kiss pressed to the side of your head. âFuck off,â you mumble, your voice is still thick with sleep but he knows you mean it so he lets you sleep in a bit while he cleans the bathroom for you. He works as quietly as he can, scrubbing it and mopping it from top to bottom. He empties the trash can and the laundry hamper, he makes sure thereâs a fresh bar of soap and a new washrag for you. Joelâs just finishing up and wiping dust from the mirror when you find him in the bathroom. âMorninâ, sunshine,â he says as he kisses the top of your head. âHow do you feel?âÂ
âShitty.â You grab at the mirror and Joelâs skin crawls as you touch the glass with your thumb, the smudges left behind from your fingertips clear as day on the freshly cleaned glass. Heâll just touch it up later. You pull out your toothbrush and frown, your nose scrunched in disgust. âIt smells like bleach in here,â you complain.
âWell, yeah,â Joel chuckles. âI just cleaned it for ya. âCourse it smells like bleach.â
âI didnât ask you to do that,â you mumble. âThe bleach you used makes my head hurt worse.â
âOh,â Joel scratches the back of his head and frowns. âMâsorry, then. Well, we can let it air out for a while, weâll leave the fan on. Shouldnât smell for more than a day or so.â
âYeah, I guess.â
If looks could fuckinâ kill, Joel thinks. Youâre glaring at him. He takes that as his cue to leave. You shrink away from him as he gently brushes your arm when he walks past, then shut the door loudly behind him. Ouch. Joel knows not to take it personally, though. Youâre crampy, but youâre also probably hungry. Heâll make you breakfast, something with protein because he knows you need it.Â
He cleans the kitchen first. He washes the dirty dishes you mustâve forgotten about last night and wipes crumbs from the table. As you come downstairs dressed in sweats and a shirt you stole from Joel, heâs finishing up making your breakfast. âSit down, I made your favorite.âÂ
You sit down at the table with your head in your hands. Joel puts a plate with two slices of perfectly golden brown toast and two over-easy eggs in front of you, then a fork and a knife on either side. He fills a glass with water for you as well. He walks away to clean up the stove, then turns around to check on you. Your face is contorted in disgust and youâre not eating. âWhatâs the matter?â
âI donât want this,â you grouse.
âBut sâyour favorite. You love your eggs over easy,â Joel says. âAnd the toast, thatâs fresh bread and butter. Eat up.âÂ
âYeah, but I wanted scrambled.âÂ
Joel stares at you for a moment, dumbfounded. You usually hate scrambled eggs, and he knows this. But youâre not smirking or holding back laughter like youâre fucking with him. So maybe your tastes have changed, who knows. âOkay. Would you like me to make you scrambled eggs instead, then?â
âYes,â you mumble in a small voice.Â
âI didnât hear ya, sweetheart. Speak up, please.âÂ
âI said yes,â you snap.Â
Your clipped tone cuts like a knife. Joel bites his inner cheek as he takes your plate from you. He quickly scarfs down the perfectly cooked eggs and toast as he makes you a new plate of breakfast, this time with scrambled eggs. He places it in front of you with a little less care than before and waits for you to take a bite. âBetter?â
âJust okay.âÂ
âJust okayâ. Of course you think itâs âjust okayâ, theyâre scrambled fucking eggs - which you donât like. Youâre just being -Â
Joel needs to cool off. Hopefully once youâve eaten youâre a little less irritable. âIâm gonna head out anâ do some errands. Be back shortly,â Heâs met with no answer from you, which he expected.Â
-
He comes back an hour or so later with a few things from the market heâs been needing along with a couple of VHS tapes that he rented from the library. âSo,â Joel says, âI picked out some movies for ya.â He lays four tapes down on the coffee table in front of the couch where you lay. âWhen Harry Met Sally, thatâs a good one,â he begins, âNext is How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, then Blade Runner, and I picked out My Cousin Vinny,â Joel says. He thinks youâre gonna pick out Blade Runner because it stars Harrison Ford, who he knows you have a thing for. âMy Cousin Vinny is pretty good, I donât think weâve seen that one yet fâya wanna give that a try.â
âMmm, no.âÂ
Shot down. âOkay. How âbout Blade Runner, then. Sâgot Indiana Jones in -â
âNo. I donât care,â you interrupt, which hurts Joelâs feelings a little. A lot, actually. âI wanna watch this one,â you point to How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days. âHeâs cute.âÂ
Of course you picked the Matthew McConaughey movie. God, Joel fucking hated him. He always seemed so skeezy, if thereâs anyone who shouldâve bit it on Outbreak Day, it shouldâve been Matthew McConaughey. âYeah, okay. Whatever. Do you think heâs dreamy too?â
âFuck off, Joel.âÂ
So teasingâs off the table too, heâll add that to the list of things that have pissed you off today. Joel turns on the TV and puts the tape in the VHS player before he sits back down next to you. At first you rest on his shoulder, then you spread out and lay your head on his lap. Itâs not long before you fall asleep on Joel, leaving him to watch this dumb fucking movie all by himself because god forbid he move you and disrupt your nap. He knows better than to do that.Â
-
âSo fuckinâ stupid,â Joel whispers to himself as the movie plays, though he did find himself enjoying the part where the Kate Hudson sings âYouâre So Vainâ by Carly Simon. He always did like that song.Â
âMmmm,â you groan, shifting onto your back. Joelâs hand is stroking your hair as you look up at him, but you push it away. âYouâre too close to me,â you grumble.Â
âWhatâre you talkinâ about?âÂ
âYouâre crowding me. I feel smothered.âÂ
Joel scoffs. âOh, you feel smothered? Youâre the one who laid on me.â Once again, your glare is all that you need to say. âAlright then, Iâll move.â Joel concedes. He lifts your head gently and scoots down to the opposite end of the couch. And then he hears you huff. âWhat?â
âWell, now I donât have a pillow.âÂ
Joel sighs as he gets up to grab a throw pillow from the opposite couch.Â
âThe other one.âÂ
Youâre referring to the other throw pillow thatâs absolutely indistinguishable from the one currently in Joelâs hand, but he gets it for you anyway. âLift your head,â he says softly, putting the pillow under you. He sits back down in the spot you made him move to as you both watch the movie play, but your soft groans interrupt. Youâre no doubt in pain from all the cramps right now. âIâve got somethinâ like a heating pad,â Joel says, looking at you. âSâa big sock filled with rice, I heat it up and use it for neck and back pain. Would that help with them cramps?â You nod without making any effort to meet Joelâs eyes, which he finds a little rude. But still, youâre hurting. Heâll give you grace.Â
So, once again, Joel gets up for you. He goes upstairs to get his rice sock from his nightstand, then comes back downstairs and heats it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. He pokes the sock to make sure itâs plenty warm for you and then gives it to you to take. âHere,â he says, âHold it on your tummy.â
âJESUS,â you yell at him.Â
âWhat?â
âItâs too fucking hot, Joel, why would you make it so hot?âÂ
 âJust give it a second, sweetheart, youâll get used to it.âÂ
âNo. It was burning me.âÂ
âOkay, then let me have it and weâll let it cool off a minute. Christ almighty.â Joel takes the sock back from you, and he knows his hands are pretty calloused butâŠit doesnât feel that hot. When a few minutes have passed, he gives it back to you. âThis should be better.âÂ
You lay the big, warm stuffed sock across your stomach and frown. âItâs not warm enough.âÂ
âYou have gotta be kiddinâ me.âÂ
âMm-mm,â you shake your head, giving Joel back his sock like you just assume heâll heat it up again for you.Â
âJust a couple minutes ago you screamed bloody murder about it burninâ you. And now itâs not hot enough?â
âYeah, thatâs what I said.â When Joel doesnât jump immediately to reheat the sock for you, you look at him impatiently. âJoel.âÂ
âYou can ask, you know.âÂ
But Joel gets the hint and gets up for you a third time to reheat the sock heâs letting you borrow. You donât say please, and when he returns with the sock reheated, thereâs no thank you either. What does he get from you? âItâs too hot.â
âThen tell me how I should rectify that for you, because last time I let it cool off and it wasnât warm enough for ya after.âÂ
âI donât know,â you snap. âYouâre just really upsetting me right now. Everything hurts and your voice is grating.â
âIâm upsetting you?â Joel repeats your words back to you. âAnd my voice is grating.âÂ
âYes.âÂ
Heâs about at his wits end. âYou know, youââ Joel decides not to finish that sentence. Instead, he sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out on the count of five. âTwo, three, fourâŠYou need to drink some water. Sâyour first issue, youâre probably dehydrated. Did you drink any water?âÂ
âItâs not your business.â
 Jesus fucking Christ. âOkay, well Iâm makinâ it my business.â Joel gets up for the fourth goddamn time and slams the cup cabinet before filling a glass with water from the sink. He marches back to the couch, âSit up,â he says. âDrink.âÂ
âI donât want to,â you whine.Â
âItâll fix your headache. Drink.âÂ
âIt wonât actually, thatâs a myth.âÂ
âRight, what do I know when youâve got an answer for fuckinâ everything. Drink.âÂ
You sit up, scowling at Joel as you take a sip.Â
âAll of it.âÂ
You drink the rest of it, glaring at him the whole time. Heâs so full of shit, as if any of what youâre going through could be fixed by drinking a glass of water. Water wonât fix your cramps, wonât fix your aching and sore back. When youâre done, you slam the glass on the end table next to you and in doing so, break Joelâs reading glasses. Oops. Didnât see those. The lenses arenât shattered, but one of the arms is all bent now. When you look at Joel, heâs biting his bottom lip and breathing deeply. âYour glasses broke.âÂ
âYeah. I see that.âÂ
âI didnât mean to,â you tell him defensively.
âRight.âÂ
âBut you really shouldnât leave your glasses there, Joel.â
âYeah, right. Shouldnât leave my glasses on the end table,â Joel says. âI should leave them where, exactly? Maybe the floor?âÂ
âSomewhere else.âÂ
âRight. Somewhere else.âÂ
Heâs hoping that by repeating your words back to you, you start to hear how absolutely ridiculous you sound. But you donât seem to. Joel turns and walks away before he fucking throttles you.Â
âCan you put on the next movie? I wanna watch My Cousin Vinny.â
Now, now you want to watch that movie. And Joelâs gonna miss out, because he canât stand to be around you for one minute longer. âAre your legs broken?âÂ
âYes.âÂ
Walked into that one. âYouâre fuckinâ impossible. Fine. Iâll put it on, then Iâm goinâ away for a bit.âÂ
âGood.â
Oh, he could fucking kill you. This whole day heâs heard nothing but complaints from your mouth, no pleases or thank youâs at all. Everything heâs done today has been for you, and you couldnât give a flying fuck.Â
Joel puts on the movie, grabs his bent glasses from the end table and heads out to the garage without saying a single word to you. You wonder what bug crawled up his ass.Â
-
My Cousin Vinny plays just fine until Vinny shows up in his ridiculous suit to the courthouse. The tape begins to skip a whole bunch, the movie barely making sense, and you have no idea how to fix it - not that itâs your job to know, anyway. So you call out the name of the man whose job it is.Â
âJoel.âÂ
No answer.Â
âJOELLLL,â you yell.Â
Same deal. You sigh as you sit up and get off of the couch, walking to the garage door. Thereâs finally a break in your cramps and youâre feeling halfway-human for the first time since yesterday. Entering the garage, you find Joel sitting at his workbench, heâs working on bending the frame of his glasses back into shape. âJoel.âÂ
He doesnât turn around to look at you and in fact, he heard you calling for him. He had just ignored you. âLooks like your legs are workinâ now,â Joel replies, without looking at you. âSâa miracle. Means you can follow me around now, terrific.â
You choose to ignore his sarcasm. âWhatever. You need to do something for me. The VCR is messing up and you have to fix it.â
âHm,â he hums.
âWhatâs hm?âÂ
âIâve fixed lotsa things for you today,â he says quietly. âI need some time to fix my glasses that you broke. Sâa difficult task on account of the fact I need my glasses to see.â
âYou can do me one favor, Joel. It wonât kill you.âÂ
Joel stops and gently places his broken glasses on his work bench. He turns to his right and glares daggers at you. âOne favor,â he scoffs. âOh, youâre a fuckinâ peach. You wanna try that again?â
âTry what again?âÂ
Youâre fucking with him. You have to be fucking with him. Why are you fucking with him? Youâre not antagonistic like this, not usually, so he concludes that you must be looking for a fight. At this point, Joel is too.Â
âIâve done you countless favors today, sweetheart,â Joel gripes.
âYeah, but-â you begin.
Joelâs large, warm hand suddenly covers the lower half of your face, silencing your argument. âIf the next words outta this mouth arenât thank you, then I donât wanna hear âem. In factâŠâ
He bites his inner cheek, nodding his head as he thinks. The way he stares at you, his dark eyes piercing through you - you feel the chill deep in your bones. A wave of clarity hits you as you recall some of the details of the day, the way Joel was there at every turn and while you were busy being cranky and achey, he was trying to wait on you hand and foot. Shit. Youâve been a Grade-A bitch to him all day, a total fucking cunt.
Breaking the silence, Joel finally clears his throat and continues his thought, âIâm gonna give you two options,â Joel says. âYou can walk the fuck away from me, or you can get on your knees. Whichever you choose, you do so silently. Nod if you understand.âÂ
Itâs like youâre watching a scene from a movie. You hear Joelâs words, but you almost donât believe theyâre real and so they donât quite register. He pulls his hand away from your face slowly. Your mouth falls open a bit but you donât say or do anything.
âNod. If. You. Understand.â You nod quickly. Joel awaits your decision as you look at the garage door and contemplate your clean way out from this situation, âSo whatâll it be?â he asks. Despite it all, that uneasy feeling in your gut, you drop to your knees anyway, eyes still lingering on the door before you look up at Joel. You trust him to take care of you and you think you might owe him this obedience after your behavior today. âYouâve earned yourself brownie points choosinâ the latter of the two options, but this still ainât gonna be fun for you,â he says. It should scare you - and it does - but youâre still thrilled by it, by the way he sighs and his knees crack as he gets off of his barstool, by the cold look in his eyes as he reaches under his thick belly to unbuckle his belt. Standing above you, he pulls out his half-hard cock and pumps it, feeling it grow to full length in his hand. Heâs thick, veiny, and generously sized, a pearly white bead of precum sits atop his slit. His cock is just an inch or two away from your mouth as he holds it between his fingers, his thumb on top and middle and forefingers on the underside. With his other hand, he cards his fingers through your hair and pulls you close, the tip of his cock pressing against your lips. âOpen.â
You part your lips open and with that, Joel pushes himself into your mouth inch by inch. You smell him first, that musky and heady sort of scent. Next, you taste the saltiness of his skin and his precome on your tongue and for a moment itâs pleasurable, with his cock halfway in your mouth. You wrap your hand around the end of his shaft like you know what he wants but you donât know, not really - Joel holds your hand in his own and squeezes it so that your knuckles grind against each other a little bit. He pushes himself further and you canât lick him or savor this like you wanted to, you just feel his cock intruding, sliding into your mouth. Joelâs testing you, making sure that you can handle all of him and if you canât, you know heâll make you.Â
He draws out of your mouth entirely only to force his way back in, making you gag and sputter. You attempt to pull away but Joel keeps his hand firm on your head and holds you right where he wants you. âNuh-uh. I donât know where you think youâre goinâ, hon.âÂ
Thereâs no gentleness to it, he fucks your mouth heatedly so that youâre drooling and choking on him, your eyes springing with tears as that pressure builds behind them. âBreathe through your nose,â he reminds you. âIn and out. You ainât done jusâ âcause youâre cryinâ.â Your lips are sore with the repeated action, your jaw is aching. He rolls his hips, his cock is deep down your throat as he relishes in your warm, wet mouth and the way it makes him feel.Â
âMmm,â you moan, youâre not sure if the noise is indicative of your pleasure or discomfort.
âQuiet,â he growls. âHeard fuckinâ enough outta you today. You keep quiet.â
Your nose is buried in that thatch of coarse curls as he rocks his hips over and over, his soft and pillowy tummy bouncing against your forehead. You squirm and whine as his tip teases the back of your throat and your mouth feels so full, uncomfortably so. Joel picks up on that. âLet it be a lesson to ya, then, if it hurts. That mouth âa yours has done nothinâ but bitch and moan at me today. Sâa punishment, ainât âsposed to feel good.âÂ
Heâs grunting and groaning, eyes screwed shut as he uses you, pumping in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches with the brutality of the way he fucks your mouth, and just as you think you canât take anymore, you feel Joelâs cock begin to twitch and pulse. He comes in your mouth without a warning, painting your tongue with his hot spend. Itâs salty and bitter and warm on your tongue. Once youâve swallowed, Joel reaches down and yanks you up by your bicep. He thought fucking your mouth and coming down your throat would make him feel better but honestly, it doesnât. As he looks at your face, all puffy with tears and swollen lips, he canât quite find it in himself to let go of his anger. Not yet, at least. âLetâs go,â he grunts as he drags you with him towards the garage door. He marches you though the house and up the stairs.Â
âWhere are we going?â
âBedroom,â Joel growls, answering your question like itâs obvious. You suppose it should be, but you figured he was done with you. But heâs not. The regret begins to set in when you realize the retribution youâre about to be met with for the way youâve treated Joel today. Youâd be lying if you said that while wallowing in your pain you didnât notice how your curt tone got under his skin, hurt his feelings and frustrated him immensely. The dread you feel canât save you, itâs all too late now.Â
 âBecause if I donât fuck you,â he says, âThen Iâm gonna strangle you. So which would you like?â
âFuck me,â you whisper.Â
âExactly.âÂ
Joel pushes you into the bedroom and locks the door behind himself. âLie down on your back,â he says.Â
You protest, âBut the sheets, Joel. The bloodââ
âI will wash the fucking sheets. We can add it to the list of all the things Iâve done for ya today, hm?â
When you donât jump at his request, Joel takes initiative. He pulls off your - his - shirt from your body and then bends you over the end of the neatly made bed, the old and worn comforter feels rough on the skin of your cheek. Joel pulls down your sweatpants and panties in one motion and then flips you over onto your back, your legs hanging off the end of the bed. You feel embarrassed when you catch a glimpse of your bloodied pad and underwear, moreso when you feel yourself making a mess on his bedding and between your legs.Â
âYou didnât make yourself come today, did you?â
âUhhââ you stutter. âI - IâŠâ
âNo point in gettinâ bashful now, darlinâ. Just gimme an answer.â
âNo,â you tell him. Itâs been a while.Â
âFigures.â
Joel had assumed sexual frustration had been playing a role in your attitude today. Cramps, headaches, all sorts of things going on with you and a needy, aching pussy to boot. He does feel sorry for you, but he feels sorry for himself too. Itâs why he got his first, but now itâs time for you to get yours. An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary.Â
Joel undresses himself before pushing your thighs apart and hitching your legs around his waist. Slowly, he slides his thumb through your folds and then circles your clit. He knows youâre vulnerable like this - bleeding pussy on display for him as you make a mess of his sheets. But heâs patient, and he massages your clit calmly until you finally let a moan, a little mmm slip. He smirks at that.Â
He pushes his middle two fingers inside you, pumping in and out slowly. He then curls his fingers, searching for that sweet spot on a woman he loves so much. âFuck,â you cry out, legs instinctually closing shut around him, and he knows heâs found it.Â
âDonât fight it,â he says, opening you back up. He curls his fingers and circles your clit in tandem, making all sorts of lewd noises with your cunt. He admires your body all laid out for him like this, your breasts and your pebbled nipples, soft tummy rising and falling with your breathy ohâs and ahhâs, thick curls framing your pretty pussy like a picture just for him. Joel takes his free hand and uses it to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the feeling of it all. You come hard, gushing on his fingers as you whimper his name.Â
Joel pulls his fingers from your core and wipes them haphazardly on his own torso. âJoel,â you gasp when you feel the thick head of his cock at your entrance.
âI am sorry,â he begins, notching his tip inside you and popping it out. He slides the blunt head through your folds and over your clit, then taps the sensitive part of you with himself. âThat youâre in pain. It isnât fair and I know that. But youâve done nothing but take your hurt out on me.â He presses himself inside you again, âIâve got a half a mind to take my own hurt out on you, yâknow.â His voice is dark and angered, but he speaks calmly in a way that contrasts the darkness but maintains his authority all the same. âAnd I think Iâm gonna.â
âJoel, Iâ â
âQuiet,â he commands. He begins teasing your slit with his cock once more before he speaks, âSo this is what weâre gonna do: youâre gonna take what I give you, however much or little it is. Youâre not gonna cry or complain âcause youâve done enough of that today. Right?â Joel pauses, âNod your head.âÂ
 You obey his rule and nod, yes.
He drags his cock up and down your cunt again, the soft skin of your labia rubbing so nicely against his thickness. He notches himself inside you over and over again, pushing in a little bit deeper each time and pulling back out. You whine, rolling your hips in search of more. âI know, I know, sweetheart,â he coos at you to quiet you down. âYouâre all out of sorts today. Mâgonna fix it. I always fix it, donât I?â
Yes. You nod again. Quiet.
âSâright,â he says. âGood girl.â
With that, Joel pushes his leaking cock into you entirely, one gradual slide that has you sucking in a breath that comes out in a strained sort of whimper. His hard, warm shaft parting your insides, filling you whole. Joel hears it in the way that you sigh, that this, this is what you needed. He rocks his hips once, twice. Experiments with shallow thrusts, inching his way in and out of you before he draws out of your pussy entirely only to thrust himself right back in, deeper and harder than before.Â
With the fullness of Joel inside of you, everything seems to melt away - all that anger, misplaced or not. Joelâs rhythmic thrusting soothes you, sort of. The soreness of your body, the aching cramps in your abdomen are all gone as you focus on the in and out, the in and out. He builds a comfortable pace, but one that borders on too much too soon. His hands on your waist, pulling you towards him as he pushes into you in equal measure.Â
He fucks you without discipline, no tenderness at all to the action with those sloppy thrusts, but youâre more lost in him than he is in you - heâs focused on your face, watching you make an âOâ with your mouth, and heâs focused on your bouncing body, your twitching thighs spread wide. Your moans, your whimpers and your whines, babbling nothing but nonsense. Joelâs brow is furrowed as he breathes heavily through his teeth, his soft body jerking above you as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over and overâŠ
âItâs all ya needed, isnât it? The whole goddamn time,â he pants. âDidnât need to go anâ bitch me out all day if you needed lovinâ like this. Woulda been nice fâya just said so.â Joel reaches for your breasts, harshly squeezing the tender, sore flesh. You wince in pain and he loosens his grip, focusing on your nipples instead. He twists and flicks the sensitive buds and your moans become louder, more high pitched. Joel fucking loves it when that happens, you never realized.Â
âOh, Joel,â you moan, âYeah, fuck.âÂ
With one hand still teasing your nipples, he brings the other to your pussy. A few strokes of his thumb on your clit is all it takes to send you over the edge a second time, wanton moans and choked sobs spilling from your lips as he fucks you through it.Â
And fucks you, and fucks you.Â
And keeps fucking you.Â
It doesnât end, he doesnât slow himself and you never feel that come down, that descent from pleasure. It keeps going, like pressure with nowhere to go and you feel like you might break. âI canât, I need you to stop, stop, Joel.â
âNuh-uh,â he shakes his head, thrusting still. âYou can take it, be a good girl. Gonna fuck you good and deep like you need. You brought this on yourself, anyway. Two more.âÂ
This whole time, he doesnât stop. Itâs so much at once and when you thought it was going to end, it doesnât. Tears of overstimulation spring in your eyes and flow freely down your cheeks. Joel lets you cry because he knows you need it, he knows the release is good for you. You poor thing, how much you must be feeling right now, both physically and mentally. âItâs too much, Joel, I canât,â you plead.
 âAlways the tears with you, huh?â he taunts. âAlways somethinâ. Oh, I know. I know.âÂ
Itâs the way you look at Joel that causes him to cave, eyes all wide and tear-stained. Youâre spent and he knows it, what with all that your bodyâs put you through. Youâve had a rough day and though he did too, he canât help but feel sympathy for you at this moment. âOh, my sweet girl. What am I gonna do with you, hm?â
âI donât know,â you sniffle.Â
âKnow you donât, ân you donât have to. Sâmy job,â he soothes. With his clean hand, he traces the side of your face and rubs his thumb over your cheekbone. âHow about this, then - what are we gonna do next time youâre not feeling so good?âÂ
âIâm - Iâmââ
âYouâre gonna tell me what you need,â he instructs, âAnd youâre gonna ask for it. Nicely. So that means usinâ your manners. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. Remember those words?â
âYeah,â you nod, âYeah, I remember.â
 âBut you forgot âem the whole day today,â Joel says softly. âI think you gotta learn to compromise, too,â he adds. The guilt had begun to set in before, but you really start to feel the burn now. You were unkind to Joel, and heâs been nothing but sweet, doting on every one of your needs. âI think an apologyâs in order for the way you treated me today.âÂ
Heâs right, and you know it. âIâm sorry. Iâm really sorry, Joel.â
âOh, I know you are. You just needed the reminder, sâokay,â You hadnât even noticed how his thrusting had slowed to a still until it picks up again slowly, as he presses kisses to you. Your cheeks first, then your lips. âIâll compromise too - Iâm only gonna make you come one more time, not two. Sound good? Sound fair?â
âI donât think I can, JoelâŠâ
âYeah, you can, sâthe last one. Take it good for me,â he encourages. âTake it good.âÂ
Thatâs what he repeats as his thrusts build again, fucking you deeply. Take it good, take it good for me. He hikes you up further on the bed and joins you so that heâs no longer standing at the floor, heâs got you pressed in half instead, your knees on either side of your chest and your feet above his shoulders. This angle intensifies everything and he knows, oh he knows how much it is for you. Youâre tired, sore, overstimulated. But youâll be done soon, heâll be done with you soon. He takes your hand and wedges it between your bodies, pressing your own fingers to your clit, âLet go for me, I wanna feel you let go for me,â he says. âFocus right here. Youâre gonna come with me, keep your eyes on meâŠâ
You donât even have to massage your clit, the way Joel angles himself has his body doing all the work, his pubic bone adding pressure to your fingers adding pressure to your clit. Itâs intense, all of it - deeply energetic, overwhelming. You canât quite discern your orgasm as it builds, thereâs no definitive start but itâs powerful, devastating almost. Washing over you in waves, you feel it in the base of your spine first. You feel it in your gut, the backs of your thighs all the way to your toes. You hardly register that heâs coming with you, filling you deep with his come. His jaw is clenched tight and heâs groaning, grunting as he milks himself in you.
He leaves you there, whimpering, twitching on the bed. You hear the faint sound of running water, you figure heâs washing himself off. Youâre surprised when he returns to you, pelvis covered in your blood, and scoops you right up in his arms. He helps you to your feet and on shaky legs, guides you to the bathroom. It no longer smells like bleach but instead, lavender. Heâs got a candle lit on the sink and the bathtub is filled with warm, bubbly water. âPicked out a bubble bath for you earlier when I went out. Wanna test it out with me?âÂ
âYeah,â you sniffle. âYes. Please.âÂ
Joel sits in the tub first, spreads his legs and welcomes you to sit between them. He washes the blood from your poor, sensitive core and your thighs, washes it from his own body as well. When heâs done, he pulls you back into his chest and his hands find your breasts. âTheyâre tender, huh,â he murmurs into the side of your head.Â
âSuper, yeah. Sore.âÂ
âIâll bet,â he says. He gently massages the tissue for you, his strong hands working you out in a way you canât quite do.Â
âThank you,â you whisper.Â
Joel chuckles. âBout fuckinâ time you thanked me,â he says. âYouâre welcome.âÂ
If you enjoyed, please reblog with thoughts, leave me a comment, or send me an ask! Your words motivate me to keep writing for you all đ©·
Least helpful cats award goes to these two đ if youâve ever wondered what takes me so long to put fics out, itâs this. I try to write and Iâm cockblocked by these fuzzballs.
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Thought Iâd show you how Iâve been going about my digital drawings - I just discovered that you can video procreate - so maybe Iâll do one of those in the future, but for the Ryan and Oliver digital drawings I did, I can show you my layers and how I worked because I was taking screenshots of my progress!!!
First up Oliver
So original photo
my line sketch - with colour coding as it was easier to do it this way!
Background done
colour blocking - ngl I actually really like it when it looked like this it just tickles the right part of my brain!
Now all the colours are sudged together and I've added in some of the texture
Finished piece!
Now onto Ryan!
Original Photo
Line drawing - he looks like a sailor because I went a bit ott with lining in the beard!
Background and clothes done!
Working on the skin - the neck was actually a real challenge!
Arm and ear finished
Face in progress - he looks so creepy without eyes and I spent soooo long on his lips - I think I erased them like 4 times - but it was worth it because I am soo happy with how they turned out!
one eye in progress
Then I was annoyed with eyes so I did some of his hair before going back to his second eye!
Final piece
and there you have it - me with zero procreate or digital drawing experience having a mess around with the brushes and seeing what I could actually do and I'm obsessed with how they both turned out!
I've been doing some tutorials on procreate - so hopefully I'll get better now I"m learning how to alter the brushes and things!
Hope you enjoyed this little look at how I created my two pieces - I'm going to look at getting prints done (when I have the actual time to do the research!) so if anyone would be interested in prints please let me know in the comments and I'll let you know once I have everything sorted out!
#kym creates#kym art#digital art#process#eddie diaz#911 abc#evan buckley#ryan guzman#oliver stark#buddie#911 art#911 fan art#911 fanart#right I'm off to do some work on my metas as I have been slacking today and have a mountain to climb to get them finished!
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More than an Acquaintance
LADS: Sylus X Reader
~
It has been a month or two since Sylus walked into the bar. Each week you walked in he sat in your spot with confidence as if it was his all along. Slowly his eyes began to become less serious and melancholy after each greeting. Though you barely spoke much. Still the same old surface level conversations with a few more words added each time. Nothing has deterred you from your normalcy or routine.
You felt yourself slowly becoming more comfortable around him. Those warning alarms in your mind when you first encountered him dulled. He became a part of the scene of your life. Someone who didnât know you but acknowledged you.
You did notice that the bar had got a bit more crowded than usual, people drawn in by his model-like looks. Hopeful for a chance to take him home. He always declined them in a way that still made them feel wanted. His social ability was admirable. Your curiosity peaked each time he denied an attractive personâs advances. A simple shrug your way and a raised glass is always his response.
He was an enigma. A puzzle that your brain needed to figure out. Yet you could not find a way to do so. The complexities of conversation are exhausting and you just wanted to relax, in the bar you claimed. So you simply existed in his presence.
Until he decided to set his sights on you. He was a storm you were not prepared for. You were comfortable standing in the water up to your ankles, unaware that letting him in your life, it was a sandbar.
~
âY/N I refuse to allow you to pay.â Sylus shoves that damn black card in your face once again. You scowl which only amuses him further. âDonât look at me like that.â
âThis feels like Iâm taking advantage of you. I can afford my drinks.â You rebuttal but he waves a hand in your direction and hands his card to the bartender who laughs. You sigh heavily but the moment the glass arrives you happily take a sip.
You look over and he chuckles, you roll your eyes. âSuch a bratâŠâ He mutters and you bite your cheek. His banter towards you recently has become more playful. Yet based on your observations, it seems to be some kind of defense he uses, so you havenât given it much thought.
âTry this.â Sylus passes his glass over to you and stares down expectantly. Your eyes narrow as you assess why. He scoffs in amusement, âTell her I didnât poison it.â He motions towards the bartender who cackles in response.
âHe paid to have this whiskey imported. Just got it in this morning. Itâs top tier. Worth a try.â She smiles kindly, bringing over a new glass and setting it in front of you, pouring the contents into the bottle.
You swirl the liquor and then bring it to your lips. You look up and he is watching with a content expression. Waiting patiently for your critique. You take a sip with caution. Your eyes widen as you swallow. It is very smooth. The burn is satisfying and not harsh like the usual cheap bourbon you drink. âMmmâŠâ You nod with satisfaction.
He looks pleased with himself after your response. âOne of my favorites. I knew you would appreciate it.â You take a longer drink humming. You give him a thumbs up and he chuckles.
âPlease refrain from telling me how much this cost you. It would make me enjoy it less.â You warn him with a glare and he smiles brightly.
âI love seeing the expressions you make when I ruin things for you. One of the reasons I keep coming back here.â He teases you ruffling your hair, his light touch no longer fazing you.
âSadist.â You mutter but you smirk as you finish off the fancy whiskey. The bottle still sits between you so he pours you more. You glance at him and he just nods, letting you know itâs fine. You gladly drink oblige.
You want to ask him why he came here. What brought him through that dingy wooden door. It felt like a line that both of you werenât ready to cross just yet.
âIt costâŠâ you gasp and reach up covering his mouth in a panic. His eyes crinkle with mirth, his lips soft against your palm.
âSylusâŠâ You warn and then feel his teeth dig into your flesh gently. âWhat are you, a dog?â You remove your hand chastising him and he laughs.
âSweetie, Iâve been called that and more.â His voice drips with seduction, naturally. You almost feel jealous about how easy it is for him. How easy it is to make your skin heat up with a string of words and tone.
You roll your eyes, your frustration directed more to yourself than to him. Your fumbling and awkward demeanor forever being called cute.
âWhat are you thinking about?â Sylus leans closer, as he sips. Those red eyes scanning your face in curiosity. You shove him away but he still waits for an answer, never offended.
âNothing.â You say the usual reply and pour more. He clicks his teeth. âEverything. All at once.â You continue and he looks intrigued, resting his chin on his hand.
âThe curse of the overthinker.â He says and you nod. âMust be difficult.â You nod unable to maintain eye contact. âItâs better to just live in the moment. You should give it a try sometime.â
A prickle of irritation runs down your spine. âAs if itâs that easy.â You growl not meaning to sound so annoyed. This does not deter Sylus, it almost looks as if it excites him.
âIt could be.â His voice so matter of fact, you mock him. Your body freezes as he grabs your chin and tilts it towards him forcing you to face him. âDonât be such a wimp.â
Rage bubbled to the surface, the kind that had been building up for years. A dam that had been battered and never repaired. The cracks slowly leaking over time, bursting to life. âThat look is intoxicating.â The arrogant bastard spouted out with a twisted mannerism.
âYou are fucked up Sylus. Iâm sure thatâs how you ended up here at this shitty bar.â You say venom laced in your words which only made him smile larger.
âA similar broken soul.â He says nonchalantly with a shrug. âI wish I could wear my expressions as freely as you do.â He admits his face showing nothing.
âYou could.â You say condescendingly, âYou're just a wimp.â You grab the bottle from the counter and take a long swig directly. This conversation seemed dangerous. A rough way of getting to truly know each other.
His eyes lower for a millisecond. Then he releases your chin and his whole body shakes as he laughs, a genuine sound. It bounces around the empty bar.
âClosing time.â The bartender reminds us as you continue to grimace at him. She nervously looks back and forth. You take in a breath, burying the anger as fast as it had appeared.
âAlreadyâŠâ Sylus mutters looking at his phone surprised. âThatâs a shame.â He almost looks truly disappointed. You felt bad for snapping back at him.
âAre you hungry?â You ask him and his eyebrows raise. âWell?â You begin to gather your things as he processes your question.
âAre you inviting me back to your place?â He asks cheekily and you groan. You elbow him as he tries to move closer.
âHell no! There is a pizza truck down the street.â You counter as the bartender closes his tab and tosses the empty bottle of expensive whiskey in the trash. You see her laugh, you both become a form of entertainment for her.
âThat makes more sense. You would never be so bold.â He says as he starts following you out. You turn to him, crossing your arms.
âAre you hungry or not? Cuz this can be goodnight.â You stand tall even as he towers over you. âBut it seems you werenât ready for the night to end yet. Need to be distracted from something a bit longer.â
A strange silence fills the space between you. You see him contemplating if he has let you get too close. âSo clever. Yes I can eat.â He opens the door for you and you walk out without a response.
~
You watch him stare at the grease as he lifts the large slice of pizza. âIt wonât kill you.â You say as you take a large bite and make a pleased sound. The bread is the perfect combo to soak up the alcohol.
âSays youâŠâ He whispers, hesitant but takes a tiny bite. You smile when he goes for a bigger one quickly after.
The metal bench was cold even through your jeans, the air felt good against your flush face. The night was quiet as you both ate without speaking another word. The strange comfort of having someone beside you is nice for a change. You admit you werenât ready to go home either.
âYou are a kind person.â Sylus speaks up taking you by surprise. You see he has finished his food in record time.
âYou donât know me.â You say matter of fact. Your thoughts tell you differently. Everyday bombarding you with mistakes from your past. This man, this stranger who appeared could not understand.
âItâs your actions. I can tell that those who see you regularly appreciate you.â He continues, and you donât know how to respond. You donât want to accept this.
âYou never once make me feel unwelcomed. I know you could tell I was bad news the moment your eyes landed on me.â He explains as you finish your slice. You hold out your hand to take his napkin to toss. He grabs it and kisses your knuckles brazenly.
âNapkin weirdo.â You scold him and he chuckles, handing it to you. You get up and throw them away. Sitting back down and lifting the water bottle to your lips you take a long gulp.
âI want to get to know you.â Sylus blurts out and you finally look up at him. He looks like when you first met him, stoic and serious. âDonât you dare utter why.â His voice is demanding and leaves no room to rebuttal.
âWhy should I get to know you?â You ask instead. You see him processing your question. Giving it true consideration. You sense he was not used to others questioning him.
âIt would be fun. Probably unhealthy and addictive. Just like your bourbon.â He was so confident. Shame probably was not a concept he could comprehend. It was damn intriguing.
âTell me why you walked into the bar.â You borrow his temerity, wearing it for a second. It felt foreign and strange but not wrong.
âLove.â He says the word like a curse. You are taken back by the pure disgust on his face. So much emotion, you wonder what that feels like.
âSo a broken heart then?â You ask and he just nods. âOne sided?â Sylus bites his lip and if his expression was not so somber you would have found it attractive.
âHave you ever been in love?â He does not answer but counters. The past creeps up into your peripheral and you cringe. âThat was a yes.â
âI was married once.â You answer, âBut not sure if it was love. I felt numb most of the time. Or anxious.â He frowns at your statement, a slight sense of anger lingered in his eyes for a second.
âYou didnât deserve that.â You turn to him with a flat expression. He looks back still so assured. It pissed you off now. The way this man could ignite the flames long put out.
âI could have. Stop assuming.â You shiver as the wind turns bitter. You look at the time and sigh. âI like it when you're at the bar.â You finally admit and he nods.
âIâm glad I walked in.â He responds, again the calm silence. âItâs getting late. Let me walk you home.â He stands looking to the sky at the moon above. He looks weary and forlorn. Yet so very beautiful. There is no way he was real.
âI can walk by myself. This is my turf anyways. Iâm not too far.â You explain stretching. The food settling nicely, your mind not clouded by the haze of liquor now.
âThere has been some increase in muggings in this area. Let me feel like a good guy just this once.â You nod and he thanks you. You walk next to each other shoulders inches apart. You know he is slowing his pace based on his long legs. He was thoughtful even if he wanted to be painted as the opposite.
âHere we are. Have a goodnight Y/N.â Lost in your thoughts you arrived home quicker than expected. On autopilot you look around and then thank him.
âNight.â You say and go to place your key in the door. As you turn to open it you come to a realization. Sylus leads you to your door as if he had walked it before. You turned around but he was already down the street. The warning bells that first alerted you rang again but there was this strange tingle in your chest, possible excitement?
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making some kind of "commitment"
I've been feeling such a strong impulse to write.
But I do know that I've said this before, often in fact, and the final product doesn't always appear. Sometimes life gets in the way, sometimes the confidence in what's already written down dries up, but that's why I've decided to try to say some of it more explicitly.
I'd like to put it out there in an effort to give myself a commitment to something to work toward, sure, but also permission to actually do it and post, even when it's not entirely perfect. The world is largely imperfect, and I might as well chase my bliss.
Currently Writing:
Warrior Nun Dragon Age AU: There's 18,000 words of chapters 3 and 4 written, some of which has already gone to beta. I need to do some revising but this feels very, very close and I'm excited about it again, which is the most vital part.
Really Want to Write:
Frantically thinking about a believably in character way to write something for Caitlyn/Vi in the same vein as You Can't Become Unreal Again. This is the main place my brain is at right now.
A small Agatha idea that's not too intense in world building, dear god please brain just let me write something around 10k and let it go, let it goooo into the world.
Honestly I keep thinking about the idea of Bishova at the TVA. Has this already been done? It's probably already been done. But the time hijinks!
I Promise I Am Going to Finish and Still Think About It Regularly:
RWBY Dishonored AU. It's going to happen. I want it to happen. I have written so much of the next two chapters it's sick that they're not out yet. I just made it so long that I have to go back and reread everything to double triple check which things have already been made explicit and which things I've only been pondering for literally years at this point and never actually put into the text. I am (often) my own worst enemy.
Less Sure About But I Still Wanna Finish One Day:
When The Feast Is Over, the third Bechloe Marvel AU fic where I set myself up to have to figure out the entire first major arc of the MCU as it plays out in my specific universe so I could mess with it. Why do I always try to write ideas that require SO MUCH world building? Why is that the kind of thing that makes my brain so happy? Some mysteries will never be solved.
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so iâm essentially adding an entire chapter to songs from within birdcages to fix the truly abysmal pacing (this is in chapter six; i may yet add more extra scenes in later chapters where i was clearly in a rush to get the story finished) and since this is delaying posting it horribly iâm posting an excerpt from a new scene as an apology. i promise this fic will be up in february or march if it kills me <3
âYouâre a Zeta, arenât you?â Chan asks, and Minho nods. The logo has long-since vanished from his synthetic skin â with the help of Seungmin and some carefully applied acid, as far as Chan knows â but it doesnât change the fact that Minho was still built on Zetaâs production lines, and sold in one of their warehouses. It doesnât change the fact that if anyone from Zeta found him, theyâd study his modifications as carefully as possible before incinerating him, and the next line of Zeta med-bots would be just that bit more perfect; utterly unmodifiable, and incapable of growing beyond their careful lines of code. Something like Minho â something beautiful, and unique, and definitely harmful to Zetaâs profits â would never exist again.
âSeungminâs optical implant is, too,â Minho adds. âAnd a few other internal pieces.â His expression darkens a little, brows pulling into a perfectly symmetrical frown. âThey would have taken him apart to get to them if theyâd caught him. And heâs still mostly organic. It would have been⊠a mess.â
Chan shudders a little at the thought. Minho often makes jokes about being disassembled for parts, something casual in the way he speaks of being torn to pieces when he knows that he can simply be rebuilt. Seungmin canât, though. Seungmin could bleed out on an operating table, his own blood filling up his lungs and covering the floor, and no amount of time spent carefully sewing him back together would ever be enough.
#this fic is easily going to pass 50k#remember when i started it in september and thought it would be very quick#don't get me wrong i'm proud of how it's turning out#but damn i wanted it short and done by december#it is neither of those things#my goal for this year is to post like. two fics.#like please brain just let me finish two things#writing inspiration#ao3 author#stray kids fic#chanjin#songs from within birdcages
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every second i spend not making a twisted psychological horror is a second wasted
#my little fucked up brain wants to make little fucked up things but i CANT because i have no motivation to finish ANYTHING EVER#and i also have like zero of the skills required to make the things i wanna make#but the CONCEPTS wont stop FUCKING ROTATING AROUND IN MY HEAD:(((#growlllll#please i just wanna take the basic outline for a horror concept i really really like but then make it actually good#because they fucked it up horribly#well not horribly it just wasn't good#but theres SOMETHING IN IT PLEASE JUST LET ME MAKE IT GOOD#SHAKING YOU#IT HAS SUCH POTENTIAL:((((((((((#man if i had a nickel for every horror comic i read that had some aspect of EXCELLENT horror but they absolutely fumbled the rest#id have two nickels#well actually i dont know if theyve fumbled one they still have the chance to pull through (dont read this im talking about dont read this#the other being everything's fine#ofc#that is the one i REALLY want to take the general concept of and make it better#and by general concept i mean literally nothing in the actual comic and just the ads i got on youtube#i want THAT SHIT#that shit scared me SO FUCKING BAD IT WAS AWESOME#god the fucking dog scene im still not over that#that scene with voice acting + sound effects was HORRIFYING#ESPECIALLY without context holy FUCK#to instill the level of fear that gave me is a DREAM#the whole concept of everything seeming just slightly off#eventually ramping up to genuinely horrible senarios#and for everyone to just pretend it isn't happening#is SUCH. A GOOD. IDEA.#i will NEVER not think thats cool#i just WISH they had lived up to those ads man#the comic was surprisingly disappointing imo
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i WAS gonna complain about horror being a skeleton and therefore never able to do the akanbe face but then i remembered. i'm an artist!! i can just DRAW him doing it đđđ ok but he doesn't have eyelids iKNOW ill figure it out ok
#im going on a short vacation that means prime time to slack off and mtthink#and i have some drawing ideas froM LIKE TWO WEEKS AGO that i never drew because i had no motivation or even time#so now i can do it :3333 lets (me) see if i still even like the ideas#and i have Saturday and sunday and mondayOFFschool and then i leave on wednesday morning ăœ(â§ââŠ)ïŸ#and that gives me prime time to draw draw DRAW#and theres like 20 days left of October i really should get to work on that animation meme#i WILL trust i swear#if not i kill myself#jk! (fashion au?)#ive been using kaomojis now. jk killer would too#ăœ(â§ââŠ)ïŸ#me taking like a whole week on a shitty hrkl little writing thing when it was leagues easier to just describe my idea#i REALLY had a vision and then i was reminded that writing is boring and that a vision expressed through words cant keep my attention#anyways i finished another little dust doodle of a song that reminded me of him#now it is time to actually get my life together and shower and brush teeth#the only homework ive got is reading a few pages#i have been ON TOP OF MY HOMEWORK since school started brođđđđ ive been SUCH a good student đđđđ#so much free time at home and yet none of it is spent on doing anything but laying down and lazing about#come on! come on! you need to get up! use your brain! PLEASE TRIGLYVERUVLE PLEASE FOR YOUR OWN ENTERTSINMENT#forcing myself to do something i find fun when i have no motivation to get up is so annoying#iWANT to draw iWANT to think i WANT to write (eh) but i just nonono feel like it (àŒàș¶ à·Ž àŒàș¶)#tricule rant#actually today i found another song that could fit horror but i just glanced at the lyrics#if i aint mtt pondering at the very least ill be connecting them to songs#new art project is gonna have HINTS of mtt in it. not really but if im aware of them then they exist#i love art class i love learning about art principles i just wish i could apply that shit to my work#well DIGITAL work. doing stuff traditionally always feels so much easier
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[text ID: Black image with purple text showing the tags from Tumblr user lyriumrain. The tags read as follows: #iâve been thinking a lot about how you really can just tell whatever story you want #there are components that your story *can* include if you want to #but you donât have to #thereâs a billion trillion stories out there #might as well tell the one you want to tell how you want to tell it. End ID]
Every 21st century piece of writing advice: Make us CARE about the character from page 1! Make us empathize with them! Make them interesting and different but still relatable and likable!
Every piece of classic literature: Hi. It's me. The bland everyman whose only purpose is to tell you this story. I have no actual personality. Here's the story of the time I encountered the worst people I ever met in my life. But first, ten pages of description about the place in which I met them.
#reading this post the first thing to come to mind was wuthering heights#the main characters arrives gets so angry he has a nose bleed and spend like two weeks in bed#he was so forgettable that i forgot he existed and with it i forgot the entire setup of the story#for those who dont know a story from the past is being told to him by the maid while he recovers in bed#it cuts to him occasionally for his input buts its quite rare and doesnt really happen much until the second half#i should reread wuthering heights i think id enjoy it much more if i read it as a comedy#i should also mention that i read it back around the same time i started watching anime. and i started with older anime obviously#like ouran high school host club and fairy tale and soul eater. things with ridiculous nose bleeds#so to crack open a literary classic and the main character immediately getting a nose bleed. i laughed my head off#i still havent finished crime and punishment (i am a cringefail girl sorry) but i love it so much because#the main character is also so very cringefail. hes a nasty stinky boy the wettest of unhatched men#like his views on depression and the way change can restructure our entire lives is poetic mastery dont get me wrong#but only in crime and punishment do you get statements like 'stop you queer fish' and 'if you were a baked onion id buy two of you'#i got that second quote wrong but shhhhh let me have this#but honestly part of why i love fanfic and have started preferring it over regular books is exactly for this reason#you dont have to follow the rules of regular modern writing. you dont have to have a beginning end and climax#you dont have to end on a happy note. you dont have to redeem your main characters foul actions#it can just be sex or just be pain or just be love and theres no need to justify your decisions on it#you really can tell the story EXACTLY as you want to tell it without any filler. and likewise you can read it the same way#its like rereading your favorite part of a book that you lovingly dogearred and getting to ignore the rest of the book again and again <3#gosh i should get back into reading classic literature and finally finishing macbeth and crime and punishment#they really bring me such joy. my brain is just anti-book-dopamine at the moment#writing#classic literature#charles dickens#as always i am brand new to adding id text captions please be gentle with me
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Ahhhh I loved your reader hybrid works, literal chefs kiss đ©đ€ can you pls pls pls do a bunny! Reader x Suguru and Satoru
You canât!
Synopsis: Poor Bunnygirl and puppyboySatoru are experiencing the worst heats ever, good thing their owner Suguru is there to take care of them.
Notes: Hi I decided to bring in our Puppy!BoySatoru if you donât like it just let me know and Iâll revise this entire thing for you!!
Pairings: Puppy!HybridSatoru x Bunny!GirlReader x Suguru
Warnings: Hybrid!Reader + smut + humping + Hybrid!Satoru + drooling + licking + penetration + lots of cum very nasty + Suguru is a good owner + collars
Suguru is exhausted when he read online that getting a hybrid would take a lot of work they werenât lying especially Bunnygirls and Puppy!Boys.
He thought he would be ready and prepared, it should be a walk in the park! Of course bumps and falls would occur but with someone as patient as Suguru everything will turn out fine.
A year in everything was so fucking perfect, You and Satoru listened so well he really lucked out with the two of you. Most people would complain on online forums that handling was the hardest thing.
The issues started arising when you and Satoru started getting needy, you were kinda independent before but now you both are always on or under Suguru, you both felt the need to always have your hands on him, roaming his body and even touching each other. More issues started to come when it felt like you and him were so feverish and always sore.
A quick google search brought Suguru to the page of hybrid heats. It happens often and can be unpredictable, itâs slapped in his face and he isnât sure what to do
âPlease-Suguru hurts so bad..â
He surely wasnât expecting to walk into the scene heâs seeing right now, Satoru laid on his back with you atop him, tears are brimming in both your lashes it looks like you two have been crying and whining for the longest time.
Youâre in nothing but panties and a thin tank top with him sporting just his underwear. Satoruâs cock is fully hard pressed againsât your cunt so snugly and heâs already made a mess: his cum seeping through.
It looks like this is what you two have been doing for all this time, just grinding against each other. He feels terrible, he hadnât taken the time to fully explain what would be happening to your bodies.
He makes his way over to his dumb pets and you both follow so obediently, leaving each others arms to fully envelope in his. Satoru starts licking and sucking on his neck, he isnât shy to rub his cock so blatantly, smearing his thick load even more.
He needs to teach his hybrids how to pleasure themselves whilst he isnât here, he stops Satoru from his suckling. He gently has you lay down admiring just how cute you look, your ears are standing at full attention but your hazy eyes arenât all there.
He pulls off your sticky panties, a clear line of your cum visible when theyâre discarded.
Heâs met with an even messier sight when admiring your pussy, your folds are glistening as well as his fingers when he teases your little clit.
Suguru positions Satoru in front of your spread legs, he isnât sure what to do with himself besides following Suguruâs every direction.
Suguru dips his fingers in your cunt again, guiding them to Satoruâs mouth he has him suck them clean.
Satoru absolutely loves the taste of you, he groans so lewdly as heâs lapping up whatâs left of your essence.
When he finishes that up Suguru grabs Satoruâs leaky cock with a rough grip and taps it a few times on your soddened clit, this elicits a few moans out of the both of you. It feels so good already, and yet Suguru canât wait to show you both just how good cumming feels.
He guides Satoruâs hips pushing his sensitive pink tip past your tight entrance.
âAhh..nghâŠâ
The whimpering starts, poor puppy Satoruâs brain canât comprehend this feeling, he knows the pleasure part of his brain is needing more but his body wants to pull away at the same time, heâs scared at how wet and hot it feels. He isnât telling Suguru to stop so he continues.
His bunny isnât fairing any better, youâre gripping the pillows for dear life as a fat cock, something foreign pushes inside of you for the first time.
Suguru sets a slow nice pace, hands still on Satoruâs hips guiding him inside of your wet cavern and out again and again. Heâs doing all the work but he doesnât mind one bit.
Suguru pauses working Gojo into you and lets him feel you, for real this time. Your walls are twitching and clamping down on him so hard.
He slides down into the crook of your neck and cries right there, itâs such a sad sight but so arousing at the same time.
âCmon Toru, gotta make bunny feel good too.â
Satoru listens and begins licking your sensitive neck, he knows thatâs a weak spot of yours, always triggering it when heâs roughhousing with you. His hips begin speeding up, the wet sounds of your cum mixing together and being slammed against one another is loud and bounces off the walls.
You cry out loud letting Suguru know that you feel weird, your tummy feels weird and itâs hurting. He reassures you and says to just let it go.
Suguru teases and grabs Satoruâs balls, head diving into his first load of the afternoon, itâs a good bit of cum he produces, Suguru is going to spend a good hour cleaning the both of you up!
#zsworks#fem reader#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#gojo smut#geto x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x female reader#jjk x fem!reader#jjk x hybrid reader#jjk geto#jjk gojo#jjk smut#hybrid gojo#hybrid reader x hybrid gojo#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu gojo#geto smut#getou suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader#hybrid gojo x reader#hybrid reader#bunny!reader#puppyboy!gojo#puppy!satoru
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n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader
One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)
(one chance please, just one chance with him)
âAre you sure this isnât totally clingy girlfriend of me?â
Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. âNot at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.â Youâre all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and youâre trying to decide between a skirt and a dress.Â
Youâre not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so thereâs less friction when youâre all around each other.Â
At Jeanâs idea, Logan had muttered, âWhen hell freezes over,â in your ear before he had left for the night. Youâd gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. Theyâd agreed to go along with you and youâve felt a weight in your stomach ever since.Â
Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago youâd thought heâd hated you the same he did Scott. Youâd, of course, been proven wrong when youâd had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn.Â
You werenât sure if heâd just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when youâd tried to sneak out the next morning and heâd muttered a grumpy, âWhereâre you going?â Youâd gotten your answer.Â
You hadnât been on any real dates, there didnât ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each otherâs company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face.Â
Itâs one of your first real relationships and youâre worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that youâre falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And itâs terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didnât, he wouldnât let you follow him around like a lost puppy.Â
But heâs never truly said anything to you. Thereâs no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually donât mean it when you reference yourself. Youâve never outright said heâs your boyfriend and heâs never really claimed you. Heâs made it explicitly clear he doesnât want you sleeping with other men, and youâve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, butâŠ
You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. Heâs not vocal about his feelings and everythingâs still new so you donât like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far heâll just get tired of you and move on. Itâs not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But youâre scared. Youâre scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face.Â
Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and youâd just completely zoned out thinking about Logan.Â
âHuh?â You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound.Â
Jean gives you a concerned look, âI can practically taste your anxiety.â The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. âDonât worry about it, I promise, Logan wonât mind at all.â
âYouâre fine,â Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. Theyâre not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. âThink of it as girlâs night, the boys just happen to be there.âÂ
You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel.Â
Thereâs this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And itâs not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. Heâd be relieved, if anything. Thereâs something else. Premonition isnât one of your abilities, but youâre seriously starting to doubt that now.Â
The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan.Â
Youâd say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people donât bother him. âThere he is,â Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar.Â
Like youâd thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense.Â
Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jeanâs wrist. âGotta go to the bathroom,â she tugs Jean behind her.Â
Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, âGo to them, weâll catch up in a second.â You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be.Â
Youâre happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. Youâve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out.Â
Itâs easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. Itâs probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. âSo,â Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer.Â
âDonât,â Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someoneâs accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. Itâs taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isnât even that big. Thereâs just that many people here.Â
Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. âLook, weâre stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.â
âHow about I put one in yours?â Loganâs claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. âShut the fuck up,â Logan grouses, ânot like that.â
âRight,â Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. Youâve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldnât, you really shouldnât. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt.Â
You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, âHowâs that going?â
You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldnât care less right now. Logan shouldnât answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?
So, imagine your surprise when his answer isnât immediately telling him to fuck off. âEh,â he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? Thatâs bullshit.Â
You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. Youâve committed this much, youâre seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, âThat bad, huh?â Oh, fuck off, Summers.Â
Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. âNah, not bad. Itâs just, I donât know.â Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jeanâs shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom.Â
Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that youâll pay for Jeanâs dry cleaning. Youâre definitely not going to. âThink she wants something I donât,â Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar.Â
âLike, she just wants to fuck around?â
Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. Heâs just swallowing it down like itâs water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. âNo, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.â Scottâs brows furrow and Logan shrugs. âNot interested.âÂ
Itâs the way he says it that really bothers you. Thereâs nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though youâre an idiot for ever being interested in that.Â
Hurt hasnât set in yet. Youâre staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Loganâs back. Youâd thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didnât think that he thought of you like this. Youâd thought you meant something to him.Â
Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. âWhat?â Logan snaps.
Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. âNothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.â You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder.Â
âWhatâre you doing?â A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. âI think she was spying.â
Jean nods, nudging you forward. âDefinitely spying. Hear anything good?â
You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. âNope,â you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all.Â
Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. âThank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.â his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. Thereâs a brief pitying look before he grins. âCome to get your boyfriend?â Thereâs a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations.Â
Itâs clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didnât feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. âThought you might need saving from Logan.â You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice.Â
Youâre not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesnât care. Heâs probably relieved that you didnât use the title.Â
Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, âThank you,â in your ear.
Asshole, heâs not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you werenât in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, youâd shove him away. If your friends werenât watching youâd take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break.Â
That might have been too far. Maybe youâre not that angry, but youâre hurt.
You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, âMhm.â He doesnât seem to notice the way you push away from him. Itâs easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar.Â
He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isnât sexual, this is him comforting you.Â
He shouldnât know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldnât know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesnât want something serious. If he didnât want to be your boyfriend, didnât want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?
Youâll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind.Â
You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize youâre no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows arenât sticking to the bar, youâre already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish.Â
You didnât drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You canât let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across.Â
You need to talk to him. Itâs never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. Itâs never worked before, itâs not going to suddenly cure you now.Â
You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. âSomething up, bub?â he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him.Â
âPut this on. Canât think when you look like that.â
He chuckles, âThatâs the point.â at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything youâre having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like heâs trying to read your mind. âWhatâs wrong?â Itâs a demand more than a question.Â
Itâs hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. âWe need to talk.â
ââBout what?â Heâs brusque, but thereâs a slight concern to his tone.Â
Thereâs no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one youâd heard. And youâll talk it out and everything will be okay. âI heard you and Scott talking at the bar.â
The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word.Â
Youâd worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didnât deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And theyâve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. âRight,â you whisper, stepping back from him.Â
âLook,â he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. âSorry,â he mutters.
âThatâs it?â You demand, tone incredulous. You werenât some great love or anything. But thatâs seriously all he has to say.
He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. âNot my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.â He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. Youâve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. âYou were just convenient.â
You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You canât decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you.Â
Youâll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. âOut.â You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel.Â
You havenât lost control like this in a long time. Youâre not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like heâs going to touch you.Â
You want to lash out, want to hurt him like heâs hurt you. But youâll only cause more damage than necessary. Heâs not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name.Â
You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyoneâs asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside.Â
You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles.Â
Itâs a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream.Â
Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but itâs hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion.Â
âIâve got you,â a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue wonât work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away.Â
Youâre in your own bed when you wake up again. Youâre briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. Youâre so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that itâs jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before itâs being quelled by an outside force.Â
âI think itâs best if we keep that under control.â Youâre not surprised to hear Charlesâs voice. You canât be, not when heâs actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window.Â
âThat tree was a hundred years old.â
You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. âI can remake it,â you promise.Â
âYou could,â he corrects, âbut whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.â He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. Thereâs no resentment in his gaze at least. Youâd known he wouldnât be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation.Â
Thereâs a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but itâs quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. Theyâre thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown.Â
âThatâs what they are, right? Cuffs.â
âYouâre not a criminal,â he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. Thereâs a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, itâs a snug fit. It wonât be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charlesâ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it.Â
You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. âJean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.â
The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. âHow long?â He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. âCharles,â you snap, voice bordering on a shout.Â
âTwo days,â he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. Thereâs energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid.Â
âTwo days.â You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. âItâs never been that bad before.â
âNo,â he starts cautiously, âIt hasnât. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfatherâs tree?âÂ
You cringe at the mention of the tree. Heâs never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, heâs still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. âYouâve been in my head for two days. Iâm sure both you and Jean already know.â
He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. âSimply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.â
You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. âNo, I donât want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.â Charles gives you a look like he doesnât believe you and you hate it. You truly donât want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him.Â
Thereâs a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. âRight,â Charles nods. âI do believe itâs best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.â He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. âRest, youâll feel more like yourself soon.â
You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasnât very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed.Â
Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didnât like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you.Â
Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry.Â
Your mother would be so disappointed in you. Sheâd always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And sheâd had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands.Â
Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. Youâre resentful and grateful heâd been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, youâd be pining after him. Wondering what youâd done to lose such an amazing guy.Â
But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didnât want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. Youâd run it through your head a million times. Every interaction youâve ever had with him. None of it shows you where heâd been lying to you or using you. You canât even trust yourself anymore.Â
Thereâs a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. âHello?â You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry.Â
âHoly hell,â Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But itâs after hours now, youâre allowed to be a mess.Â
âYou look like shit.âÂ
Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. âI know,â you wail. âI hate it.â Ororoâs eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands.Â
âI feel,â you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. âHe tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.â
âOkay, okay,â Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. âI know, sh, itâs okay.â She groans, âStop crying,â she pleads under her breath.Â
âIâm trying!â You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears.Â
âLook,â she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. Sheâs really fucking bad at comforting someone. âThis is awful, I canât take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and youâre putting everyone on edge. You wonât stop crying and he keeps going off,â she holds her hands up and shakes her head. âI just canât do it anymore.â
You frown, brows turning down in confusion. âWhat?â You didnât think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all.Â
âHeâs kind of losing it,â she seems reluctant to relent the information. âLook,â she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. âHeâs in love with you. We all know it, Jeanâs confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, heâs just terrified to admit it. Heâs afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.â
Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You canât deny whatâs so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head.Â
You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you donât care that heâs afraid. You donât care he pushed you away and you do love him. Heâs not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scottâs bike blah blah blah.Â
This isnât a fucking romance. And youâre not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. âAre you fucking kidding me?"
Ororoâs face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. âNo,â she answers slowly, like sheâs not sure of herself now.Â
âThatâs what Iâve been crying over?â You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didnât feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie youâve been living in for the past two weeks. âYouâve got to be fucking kidding me!â
You donât know where youâre going. Normally, youâd run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldnât have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you canât do anything.Â
You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. Youâve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night.Â
âI want to see her,â Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her.Â
Itâs been a day already, youâve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesnât want to think that thereâs anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you.Â
That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didnât really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasnât anything was quicker than pouring out every thought heâs had of you.Â
It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then youâd overheard, and you brought it up. And thereâd been faith on your face. Like even you couldnât believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit.Â
But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didnât want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. Itâs what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions.Â
He hadnât thought you were going to explode, though. Because thatâs exactly what youâd done. By the time heâd caught up to you, youâd burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charlesâ stupid fucking tree.Â
Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didnât want to live in a world that you werenât in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place.Â
He didnât want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didnât matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They werenât even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastardâs head off and just barrelling inside.Â
He didnât care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. âIâm afraid youâre not going to be able to see her for a very long time.â
âStay out of my head,â Logan growls, glaring down at the man. âWhat are you talking about?â He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.
Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. âYou were the cause of this, yes?â Reluctantly, Logan nods, thereâs no point in hiding it. Heâs sure Charles already knows. âFor her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.â
That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldnât risk another meltdown like that.Â
You didnât deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldnât be able to stand hurting you again.Â
But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, heâs sure youâre just avoiding him. He knows he canât blame you. Heâd been a fucking idiot. But that didnât make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day.Â
He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and donât even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?
He knows youâre upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something heâs sure youâd be mortified to learn about. Why wonât you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when youâre in the same room together.Â
He could fix this, make this all better. But youâre just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. Itâs why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then heâd seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head.Â
He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didnât hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off.Â
But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now.Â
Thereâs a knock on his bedroom door and he doesnât even get to pretend itâs going to be you. He smells Jeanâs perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.
âDonât be a jackass, open the damn door.âÂ
Fuckinâ telepaths. âWhat?â He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. Heâs itching for another fight and she can feel it.Â
She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. Heâs almost disappointed. âWe need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. Youâre a mess, sheâs a messâŠâ
Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan canât be bothered to listen to her scold him. Heâs not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldnât be having this problem.Â
A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what youâre doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs.Â
Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesnât even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you.Â
Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. âWell?â Jean probes.Â
Ororor shrugs, âSheâs over it.â Jean smiles but itâs quickly wiped off her face by Ororoâs expression. âNot in the way we wanted.
Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or sheâs never going to be able to get a good nightâs sleep again.
You find yourself in the gym. Itâs not your favorite place in the world, you donât usually get to train with the others. Youâre stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasnât been a problem since you got the cuffs, but youâve been too sad to test them out.Â
Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You donât know what else to do. You canât have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but itâs not working. Nothing is.Â
âImagining itâs me?â You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench.Â
You scoff as you watch him. âDo you ever have a shirt on?â
He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan.Â
Which youâre sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldnât be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in.Â
He smirks the second your eyes meet, âI can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.â He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isnât lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other.Â
Youâve been pent up since the breakup. Youâd given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan.Â
His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. Heâs standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that youâre going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit.Â
You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until heâs nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. Heâs lucky you have the cuffs on, without them youâre sure heâd already be dead.Â
You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, âYou wanna play, Logan?â
He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. Youâre slightly less graceful than he was, but youâre too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. âCome on kid,â he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when heâs fucking into you. âLetâs see what you got.â
Youâre not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until youâre practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him.Â
âCome on, sweetheart, that canât be all you got for me.â Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head.Â
He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, âWhat, donât tell me thatâs all you got, wolvie.â
âDonât fuckinâ call me that,â he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But heâs lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know heâs going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this.Â
But heâs dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. âStop fucking holding back,â you yell at him.Â
He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out.Â
âYou sure?â Itâs a taunt, a dare, he knows you arenât going to take the bait. Youâd be stupid to, you donât heal like he does. Once those things get in you, youâre screwed. But right now, youâre too pissed off to try and care.Â
You donât say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. Heâs treating you like youâre something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic.Â
Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. Heâll heal in seconds, you canât bring yourself to feel too bad for him.Â
Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didnât think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face.Â
You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic.Â
You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. Thereâs nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, youâre sure you hear the seams rip. But you canât bring yourself to care.Â
One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until heâs groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back.Â
He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. Youâve barely nodded before heâs descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. Youâre missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you donât care.Â
You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants.Â
He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You canât help but moan at the friction. Itâs just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building.Â
You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat.Â
Youâre tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you canât reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out.Â
Itâs already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You donât have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before heâs gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. âGet up here,â he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You donât even get a chance to protest before heâs flipping you over.Â
He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. âWhose teasing now?â You grit out, glaring at him.Â
His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go.Â
Neither of you are giving up this fight, you donât want to lose, not even while youâre fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you donât even have time to whine. Heâs back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. Youâre not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you.Â
Youâre not going to last long. Youâve been too desperate, too pent up while youâve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. âThought you didnât want me anymore, sweetheart.â He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit.Â
You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know thereâs something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. âI donât know,â he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. âSeem to need me real bad now.â
Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. âFuck you,â the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open.Â
He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. âSorry, couldnât hear you. Whatâd you say? Stop?â
You glare over your shoulder at him âDonât you fucking dare, Logan.â You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub.Â
âWouldnât dream of it, sweetheart,â he protests, voice innocent. âAh, fuck,â his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You canât speak anymore, canât think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you.Â
Your abilities are rising with your release. Theyâre pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just canât reach. Itâs Loganâs release that finally tips you over the edge.Â
The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadnât felt long until you remembered what you were missing.Â
You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.Â
He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place.Â
You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. Itâs clear what his plan had been. And youâd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Youâd barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy.Â
But youâre disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for.Â
âShit,â you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until heâs got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. âLogan,â you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered.Â
âDonât,â he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but youâll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. âLet me talk and then you can run off.â You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. âWell?â
You roll your eyes, âFuckâs sake,â you mutter. âAlright, speak.â
You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didnât have you in such a tight grip, youâd elbow him in the gut just to be petty. âI made a mistake,â you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. âYou werenât just something convenient to me, sweetheart.â he pauses and chuckles, âYouâre a huge fucking pain in my ass.â
âIs this your idea of an apology?â You snap, âBecause this is pathetic.âÂ
He doesnât say anything and youâre tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. âYou ever shut up?â He asks, but thereâs no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But thereâs nowhere for you to hide, youâre both naked and bare before each other.Â
Youâre as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how heâs feeling, youâre starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he canât accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back.Â
But thatâs not going to get him out of it. Heâs still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real youâd consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend youâre annoyed at the contact, but youâve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.
Youâve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. Heâs got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesnât. Â
Itâs silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. âI love you,â he whispers.Â
Youâd told yourself youâd only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But thatâs only because youâd never thought he would actually say it. You didnât think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you donât know him as well as you thought you did.Â
He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but youâre finding it hard to meet his eyes. Youâve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you canât. Youâre still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldnât face his own feelings.Â
And now youâre struggling to do the same. âI want to say it back,â you tell him. âBut how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you wonât lash out again?â
He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know itâs frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldnât just say three words. âIâll wait,â he promises. âFor as long as it takes, Iâll wait.âÂ
You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. Youâre sure youâll be saying it sooner rather than later. But whatâs the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it.Â
A/N: I donât write smut, itâs literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, Iâm no better than a man.
end. â I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved Â©ïżœïżœnot-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
#Wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett#logan howlett x you#x men#deadpool and wolverine#wolverine#smut#ohmygod#i canât believe i wrote this#Someone sedate me#im just a girl#i cant be blamed LOOK AT HIM#he's actually older than every adult man in my life#can you tell i need therapy
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I NEED waitress!reader accidentally letting it slip that sheâs got a date after her shift and so when bartender!simon overhears, he suddenly has a list of things she needs to do after work, causing her get to stay late ))): missing her date ))):
ANGST TIME
He's been watching you like a hawk for the past two hours - and rightfully so. You've been rushing through your tasks, rolling more than enough silverware, keeping your tables happy and stocked - you somehow managed to convince Soap to mop front of house for you. He doesn't like it. Why are you trying to get away?
"Got a date tonight." You tell him, skimming through your receipts as you sit at the bar and calculate your tips. You're not off the clock yet - you still have thirty minutes left. But the restaurant's empty, and all your tasks are done. Your makeup is a little nicer today, softer and less "morning after a deftones concert".
Simon's thankful for the mask, or else his frown would be impossible to miss. Is he dumb? Haven't you been flirting with him all week? Was this another one of your games, pretending to act innocent and coy, messing with him, then announcing you're going out with someone else?!
He feels his shoulders tensing as he watches you tap away at your phone's calculator. He shouldn't be so bothered by this - some things just need to be let go. But he can't. He wants to keep you in his back pocket, or in an empty whiskey bottle on his liquor shelf - not the one behind the bar, but the personal collection in his room on the third floor.
"That's nice," he grumbles, slicing through a lime. "Jus' make sure you finish your chores 'fore you head out."
"Already did!" You chirp at him with a smile. "Just need to do my tips, and I'll be done."
"Did ya clean the ice bins?" He asks.
You furrow your brow. "Huh?"
He jerks his head to the whiteboard on the wine fridge - sure enough, your name is scribbled in, right next to "drain and wash/sanitize ice bins + buckets", along with today's date.
You look back at Simon, your expression now crestfallen. Your date is in an hour, and you still have twenty minutes on your shift. "Don't you usually do it?"
Truthfully, he does. He could do it today, in fact. But his brain is acting on thoughts before he has the chance to consider the consequences. "Can't today, luv. Preppin' for a bigger crowd tomorrow."
Your shoulders slump. "How long does it take?"
"Well, you got to turn 'em off - one by one, I can't have two empty ice bins durin' a shift - then ya dump the ice, wait for 'em to warm up, then ya go in there with soap n' a rag, rinse 'em out, then-"
"God, can this please wait until tomorrow? I'll come in early and do it, I promise."
He looks at you sternly, and you suddenly feel ashamed for asking. "Wot, so I can pay you overtime?"
"Simon, please - if you do them, I'll give you half my tips for today."
"Now y' dumpin' your work on me?"
"I've got a date!"
"I've got my own shit too!"
You snap your mouth shut. He's never been this stern with you, but you know it's well deserved. It's your chore, after all. You'd been wrong to assume he would do it himself, despite that being the usual. You quickly hop out of the barstool and make your way behind the bar, unplugging the first icebin.
Simon watches as you scurry around, running to and from the ice bin into the kitchen, filling up bucket after bucket of ice and dumping it into the sink in the back. You pace as the machine warms up, glancing at your phone every few minutes, then touching the inside of the ice maker to check the temperature. After a few minutes, you're scrubbing the machine as fast as you can with a soapy rag and a bucket of sanitizer eater next to you.
Twenty minutes have gone by. You're supposed to be on your way to your date, but you're biting your lip, staring angrily at the ice machine as it cools down again. You need to wait for it to be cold before you refill it with ice, and only then can you start on the other machine.
You make another attempt towards Simon. "If I just do one tonight and do the other in the morning-"
"No." Simon snaps, his eyes angry as he drops a container of sliced fruit onto the bar. "This is part of havin' a job."
You look away from him, tears stinging your eyes now. You're so frustrated you want to snap back at him - but he's right, isn't he? Maybe you could ask him if you could just call Max and let him know you'll be running late - but the thought of asking Simon for anything right now (other than more chores) makes you queasy.
Simon doesn't know where the anger came from, but it's still simmering. He watches as you continue to run back and forth, filling up the old ice bin, unplugging the second one, dumping the ice in the back... he's refilling the bloody Mary mix and restocking the bitters. Simple things. He's got nothing to do after this besides go up to his flat and sit in front of the telly, or maybe chat with Soap before he heads home. Why didn't he just do it? Because you had a date, and that was a problem for him. Why? Now you're upset, and it's that knowledge that makes him finally feel the shame that he'd been swallowing down.
You finish dumping the last bucket of ice into the second machine. It's forty minutes after your shift ended. You still have to get to the restaurant you and Max were meeting at, which is a twenty minute walk. You were supposed to be there ten minutes early - now you're going to be an hour late. Frustration mingles with anxiety and burns in the forefront of your mind. But you can't be mad. You should've done your job.
Simon doesn't say anything when you run to the back, your phone pressed to your ear and tears in your eyes. You barely manage a wave to Soap as you grab your bag and jacket and flounder back into the restaraunt. You don't look at Simon.
"I'm leaving now, I'm so sorry- I had to finish up at work and it too longer than I-" you slowed to a walk, then a stop, standing in the middle of the floor. Simon was frozen, watching your shoulders shake.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had-... it's not an excuse, I promise I'm-... listen, we can go for a walk or something, right? Or go get fast food, someplace still open, just you and me, and we can try again another-"
His eyes burn in his skull as he watches you stand there for a few more seconds, staring at your phone as the call disappears from the screen. He wants to say something - but what can he say? He's already fucked you over. And he doesn't feel any better than when he first discovered your little date. He feels worse.
You stuff your phone in your back pocket, unable to hide the single, choked sob that escapes your throat. You shoulder your bag and stomp your way out of the restaurant, door clanging behind you. Your bike is still in the alley out back, and your unfinished tips are still on the bartop. He wouldn't be surprised if you never come back to collect them.
Soap emerges from the kitchen breaking Simon from his thoughts and wiping his hands on a rag. "Real feckin' kind of ye, Ghost. Never seen such a right cunt." He glares at Simon, before slapping the rag on the table and heading back into the kitchen. His shift was over, too.
Simon has three more hours left to deal with himself before the bar closes.
#bartender ghost#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley#ghost#ghost x reader#ghost x you#cod#ghost cod#call of duty#cod x reader
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đŻđžđŹđŸđŒ
â desc: studying is always best when you're getting your pussy played with <3
â ft: nanami
â a/n: for all of my loves approaching finals week, hope this helps <3
â includes: fingering, pussy slaps, choking, overstimulation
âFocus for me, sweetheart.â
Nanamiâs calloused fingertips hovering just slightly over your soaked cunt was the only thing your clouded brain could focus on. Sitting with your back against his chest, legs spread and notebook in hand, he wasnât referring to you to focus on him. No, he wants you to try your hardest to absorb as much information from that notebook as you could. With your finals coming up, itâs incredibly important to make sure youâre effectively studying in order to get the best grade possible. Nanami thinks that your education is important, and he will do everything he can to make sure that you pass all of your classes.
âYouâre always so wet for me.â Nanami mutters to himself, always in awe by how beautiful you look all spread out for him. âGo ahead, read the next paragraph honey.â Your eyes search on the white page for what you read last, finding your place before reading out loud.
âThis n-next section illustrates -fuck- the essentials forâŠâ You trail off, brain fogged over at the feeling of him finally making contact with your throbbing clit. He circles around it slowly before applying just the right amount of pleasure, causing you to throw your head back onto his chest. His fingers leave your body just as fast as they got there, making you groan in frustration.
âKento, I canât do this anymore. Please just touch me already.â Youâre growing increasingly frustrated at this point. Fuck your exam, you just want him inside of you. Nanami has other plans, however, shaking his head no at your request.
âYou know I canât do that, love. This test is more important than whatever this pretty little pussy of yours wants.â Nanami gives your cunt two quick slaps, making you jump in surprise at the sudden contact. âFinish reading this page and Iâll reward you, come on.â You could feel Nanamiâs warm breath tickling your ear as his fingers made their way back, teasing you so much that itâs driving you insane. Youâre growing more and more desperate by the second, hands shaking in anticipation as you continue reading. The further you get down the page, the more Nanami is willing to give you.Â
â...and with that, c-concludes the end of this chapter.â As soon as you get that last sentence out, Nanami plunges two thick fingers into you, curving them ever so slightly to hit that gummy spot that causes you to cry out in delight. Youâre gripping his biceps with so much force, trying anything to keep you grounded as he shows you no mercy. Heâs putting his forearm to work, tiring his wrist out to push in and out of you as his other hand grips your neck to push your head back against his chest. The eye contact is so intense, hand wrapping around your throat making you clench around his fingers.
âSo greedy.â Nanami chuckles, watching the way your eyes flutter closed in your pathetic attempts to keep them open. âGonna cum all over my fingers? Câmon baby, let it all out for me.â Nanamiâs words made your heart pound even harder, legs shaking as that feeling deep in your tummy starts to overwhelm you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, thighs closing around his hand as you gush all over him. He groans at the sight, fingers slowing down inside of you as he works you through your high. He kisses all over the side of your face and neck, each touch of his lips feeling like sparks of electricity over your skin. Sensing that youâre finally coming back down, his fingers make slow movements inside once more. You whimper at the feeling, pleasure coursing through your veins once more.Â
âToo much, Kento!â You cry out, hands gripping his wrist in a weak attempt to pry his large hand away from your warmth. He doesnât move an inch, instead adjusting the hand on his neck to slowly move down over your collarbones, fingers twisting over one of your nipples.
âIâm sure you could take it. Youâve been such a good girl for me, let me give you a treat for all of your hard work.â
© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader smut#nanami x reader#nanami smut#nanami x reader smut#nanami kento
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The Love And DeepSpace Men- Boyfriend Headcanons + Scenarios/ Imagines Pt. 2
parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader requested: myself bc i craved writing something sweet genre: perhaps tooth rotting fluff fluff warnings: none unless you want cavities a/n: every day i wish they were real and every day i have a lads brain rot and i would gatekeep these ideas but i would never so here ya go ! lmk if i should write more of these à«ź ˶ᔠᔠá”˶ á enjoy reading ! first part is here if you haven't read it! Pt.1 any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!
âïœĄâ§ËÊâĄÉËâ§ïœĄâ
Xavier:
The type of boyfriend who will finish your food whenever you can't finish it. He'll let you eat his food even when you say you're not hungry or you don't want anything. If the food he gets isn't something you would want, he'll make sure to buy something for you even if you say you don't want it.
You can expect his hand to always sneak into your lap when you lay in bed together after a long day. Gently embracing your lower stomach and whispering sweet nothings into your ear before you both fall asleep.
If you can't sleep, he'll try to join you for midnight snacks and watch whatever's on TV. He's trying his best to stay awake but you can already see him dozing off, clutching the stuffed plushie you won at the arcade.
Scenario:
You two sat on the soft grass, surrounded by a blanket of stars that painted the dark canvas of the night sky, eagerly waiting for the shooting stars to streak by.
"Xavier do you have anything in mind for what you're going to wish for?"
He turns to you, his gaze softening and a gentle smile spreads across his face. "I don't need to wish for anything else if my wish has already come true- I'm looking right at her."
Zayne:
He keeps all the little trinkets you've given him by his nightstand at home and his desk at work. That way when he wakes up you're the first thing on his mind, not that you left his mind in the first place. Each time he glances at them, he's flooded with happy memories and filled with anticipation to return to your embrace.
The type of boyfriend who puts a blanket over you if you fall asleep on the couch and eventually carries you to your shared bed.
Puts a ridiculous amount of sugar in his coffee that kind of leaves you concerned for your lover's sweet tooth.
Scenario 1:
You two lay in bed together, enjoying the lazy morning, not wanting to get up as if doing so would mean the day truly had to begin. You trace the outlines of his bare chest, your fingers dancing over the area where his heart beats.
âWhat are you doing?â he asks curiously as he watches you glide your fingers gently around his chest.
âFinding your heart and seeing who lives there,â
He lets out a breathy chuckle, a smile curling on his lips. âNo one is there right now.â
You frown at his response, a playful pout forming on your lips. He cups your cheek, finding your reaction to be amusing and adorable. âThatâs because the owner of my heart is currently right in front of me.â
Scenario 2:
As Zayne rushes to get ready for an emergency call from the hospital, his glasses are perched on top of your head.
âZayne, arenât you forgetting something?â you hinted, leaning in for a goodbye kiss.
âAh yes, thank you.â He retrieves his glasses and you mock a pout. But he leans down, brushing your lips with his with a sweet kiss, amusement sparkling in his eyes. âI love you. Please donât stay up waiting for me again.â
Rafayel:
Sometimes he can be your boyfriend but sometimes he's also like your child from how much you baby him
He needs to be close to you at all times. The type of boyfriend who is all over you all the time. He needs to be close and touching you at all times. If you got hot from cuddling, he'll have either his hands or legs over your body because if you were apart for more than a second he thinks he might explode.
The boyfriend who stays up making something special for days and stays up overnight just to make it perfect just for you.
The type of boyfriend who adjusts your do not disturb on your phone so only his notification pops up whenever you're on do not disturb.
Imagine swimming in the ocean, you're enveloped in his embrace as you both gaze at the moonlight and stars above. He holds you close, resting his chin gently on the top of your head while you nestle your hand and head against his chest. Itâs perfect like this. Just two of you near his homeland, the sea. Just him and you in your own world where you both find peace with the gentle sounds of the waves surrounding you both.
Sylus:
At the beginning of your relationship he redecorates his entire home so that you'll like it more and feel more inclined to stay over and stay the night at his place.
He only has a soft spot for you and only you. You see a side of him no one else does and not just that but his super silly side.
Sometimes he'll lift you onto the counter or lift you up to get what you need on a high shelf just because he wants to hold you.
The type of boyfriend who gets on his knees or sits down to be on the same level as you when you don't want to look up at him anymore. If he was sitting, he's definitely pulling you to his lap because you're not going to be the only one standing!
The type to hold all of your shopping bags and pure for you when youâre out shopping together. He does not complain about holding your purse at all, not that it would ever bother him in the first place. Also does not complain about holding all of your shopping bags, itâs literally light work for him and he would encourage you to buy more things of whatever you wanted.
Imagine after a long night at an auction, you two stumble back into your shared home not breaking the kiss. Your hands rest on Sylusâs neck, slowly sliding down as he murmurs sweet phrases against your lips. His strong arms wrap around your waist as he carries you bridal style, guiding you both toward your shared bedroom.
#xavier x reader#xavier x you#xavier x y/n#zayne x reader#zayne x you#zayne x y/n#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#rafayel x y/n#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x y/n#xavier love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#rafayel love and deepspace#sylus love and deepspace#xavier lads#zayne lads#rafayel lads#sylus lads#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace fic#love and deepspace scenarios#lads x you#lads x reader
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đđ«đšđŠđ©đ:
đđĄđđ đđ«đ đČđšđź đ°đąđ„đ„đąđ§đ đđš đđš? đđđ„đ„ đŠđ đ°đĄđđ đČđšđźâđ«đ đ°đąđ„đ„đąđ§đ đđš đđšâŠ đđąđŹđŹ đąđ, đ€đąđŹđŹ đąđ đđđđđđ«!!
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đđČđ„đźđŹ:
âNnngh, Sylus,â You groaned, tossing your head back into the pillow. âIt hurts!â
âI know I know. Iâm sorry, Y/N.â
Things had gotten a little toooo intense last time the two of you had sex.
You really did have a knack for riling Sylus up. And he played into you every single time. Without fail.
You had been loving it in the moment, throwing your ass back on him and asking him for more.
Sylus rooted a hand in the back of your hair, pulling your back to make eye contact with him.
âAre you going to be a good girl? Hm? Or do I have to punish you again?â He spoke through gritted teeth, speeding up his thrusts.
âPunish me! Oh my⊠fucking god Sylus please punish meâŠ!â
And he did just that. Making you count each hard smack to your ass as he pounded you into the mattress.
As I said earlier, you were absolutely loving it, creaming all over his cock and driving him just as crazy.
It was after you two had finished, and resorted to cuddling in bed together that your problem had started.
At first it was light stinging⊠nothing out of the ordinary. This was usual after he spanked you.
But then the stinging evolved to a deeper pain. Slightly deeper than other times, and a little more intense than you cared to deal with.
Awww, poor you.
âFuck, this is all your fault!â You swatted at Sylus weakly, something he easily dodged.
And the nerve of this asshole⊠he chuckled in response.
âThe fuck are you laughing at? Do something you stupid prick!â Oh if looks could kill.
âAlright. As you wish.â He responded almost immediately, raising your suspicions. Usually he would try and fuck with you more.
You felt the bed dip as he moved, and then you felt him pull your hips off the bed so you were in a slight arch.
âWhat are you- ack!â You were even more surprised as he pulled your panties down with one swift movement.
âIâm kissing it better, sweetie,â You felt him fondle your ass cheeks before giving the sore red spot a gentle kiss. âDidnât you want me to do something?â
One kiss. And another. And another. To all the areas that were aching and tender.
You were extra sensitive in those spots, making the feeling all the more intense.
âSylusâŠâ You sighed out dreamily once he started to knead at your lower back in tandem with the kisses.
Well⊠it actually felt quite soothing.
âOh? My kitten finally stopped hissing and scratching. Have I finally pacified her?â You felt the deep rumble of his laughter against your skin.
With his gentle touches and light massage to your lower back⊠you felt yourself relax and allow yourself to be indulged in his care.
đđđČđ§đ:
âIâm sorry Y/N. I shouldâve had more restraint. Forgive me.â
The look of remorse in Zayneâs eyes was unmistakable.
He had let a moment of raw passion in the bedroom get to him.
Zayne had just gotten back from one of his business trips in the arctic. He barely had time for himself in those few days⊠let alone you.
Just the whiff of your perfume as you jumped into his arms at the airport was enough to drive him insane.
You thought that Zayne had been even more quiet than usual on the way back to his place⊠and just as you were about to ask him what was wrong, he practically jumped you.
Peeling off all your clothes and quickly warming you up to take his cock.
Bouncing you on his lap and using you like a human fleshlight⊠Zayne got an exclusively good view of your neck and chest.
And then he had a thought. One that bore deep into his brain and stripped him of reason.
âI want to mark you,â He said breathlessly, running his hand up your body to grip at your neck. âCan I? May I?â
Trying to make sense of his request through the shockwaves of pleasure, you nodded fervently.
That was all the confirmation Zayne needed.
One hickey on your neck. Another on your chest. And then another. And another. And another.
Soon after you had too many to count. It looked like a rash had spread over your collarbones.
âIâm sorry, I really am.â Zayne took your hands in his as he looked you in the eye.
He was being so serious about something so small⊠it honestly made you laugh.
âZayne, it doesnât particularly hurt. You donât have to apologize. I feel fine.â You caressed his face with your hands, which he leaned into.
âYou say that, but still,â Zayne sighed. âI should have restrained myself.â
Little did he know you fucking loved it when he didnât restrain himself.
You found yourself giggling again.
âIf you feel that bad,â You leaned forward to bite his bottom lip playfully. âKiss it better. Yeah?â
Zayne gave you an odd look before pulling you closer.
Leaning your head to the side to give him access, you held his shoulders as he leaned into you.
Feeling his soft lips kiss at the hickeys he left on you, you gasped and dug your nails into him.
The marks were so sensitive⊠it felt so good.
âLike that,â He pressed another kiss to a hickey on your collarbone. âDoes that make it better?â
You hugged him even closer than before.
âA little more.â
And he did just as you asked as you melted into his touch.
#love and deep space zayne#zayne smut#zayne x you#lads zayne#dr zayne#zayne love and deepspace#love and deepspace zayne#zayne x mc#doctor zayne#zayne x reader#lnds zayne#l&ds zayne#sylus x you#sylusposting#sylus x mc#l&ds sylus#lnds sylus#sylus smut#love and deepspace sylus#sylus x reader#sylus#lads sylus#love and deepspace imagines#lads smut#l&ds smut#love and deepspace
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful
Summary: You have a long weekend that ends rather unexpectedly. Perhaps thatâs not such a bad thing.Â
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, some brief violence at the end.
A/N: I'm in a bit of a crisis so you're getting a bonus chapter this week. It's a beefy one and I wrote like 90% of it yesterday, just had the brain sludge by the time I was close to finishing and decided to rest before I finished and edited. Things are starting to get a big suggestive here, so as a reminder, this fic will have NSFW content in later chapters so please do not interact with it if you are under 18. I'd hate to have to block you.
MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->
âHow are you settling in?âÂ
âFine.â You shrug.Â
âAny instinct to nest at all?âÂ
You shake your head. âNo.âÂ
âThatâs fine.â Dr. Keller says, writing something down. âItâs only been just over a week. Have you started kneeling for Captain Price yet?âÂ
You shake your head again. âNo.âÂ
Dr. Keller tilts her head. âWhy not?âÂ
You shrug again. âHe hasnât brought it up.âÂ
âIs that something youâd like to start doing?âÂ
Her question catches you off guard again. Youâre not used to being asked what you want, afterall youâre an omega. Thatâs not important. Youâre here to serve. To do as youâre told. You remember watching your mother kneel for your father while he watched TV, her dazed, glazed over eyes staring at nothing as he almost seemed to hypnotize her into the shell of a perfect omega. It was your first taste of truly how much power alphas could hold over omegas. One hand on the back of your neck and itâs over.Â
âI...I donât know.â You say, picking at your sleeve.Â
âYouâre allowed to want things too.â Dr. Keller leans forward just slightly, giving you a smile. âI highly doubt Captain Price will make much of a fuss if you ask for something you need. He cares about you. If he didnât, you wouldnât be sitting here alone.â She tilts her head at you, watching you pick at your sleeve. âIs there anything you want or maybe need that you havenât asked for?âÂ
Softer blankets. A fluffier pillow. Different body wash and shampoo. New clothes. A picture or a poster or something to make your room seem less clinical. Your instincts to finally start kicking in. Price to want you as much as heâs supposed to. Ghost to like you. To go back in time and let Soap kiss you.Â
To go back in time and never present as an omega.Â
âNo.â You finally answer, shaking your head. âIâm fine.âÂ
Dr. Keller stares at you for a long moment. You avoid her gaze, picking at the seam of your sleeve. âI know youâre going to get tired of me saying this, but itâs important that you understand that this is a safe space for you. Everything that we discuss, everything that you say in here stays between you and me. Doctor-patient confidentiality is something I firmly believe in, even when it comes to alpha/omega relationships. Okay?âÂ
âYes, maâam.â You say quietly, still avoiding her gaze.Â
She continues to stare at you for a moment before she leans back on the couch again, shuffling some papers around. âThe two betas, Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish. How are you getting along with them?â She continues with her questions.
âFine.â You lean back in your chair, hoping it might swallow you whole. âTheyâre easiest to get along with.âÂ
Dr. Keller nods. âGood. Iâm a strong advocate for organic pack bonding. Helps avoid any dynamic struggles or false instincts down the line. How are you sleeping?âÂ
âFine I guess.â You shrug. âI nap a lot.âÂ
âThereâs nothing wrong with that. Omegas need a lot of sleep and I can imagine adjusting to a new schedule has been rough.â Dr. Keller moves the papers to the couch next to her, looking up at you. âIs there anything you want to talk about?âÂ
You hesitate, pulling at the seam of your sleeve. Itâs beginning to unravel a bit from your nervous picking. Youâll have to fix it. Dr. Keller is right, though. You could just ask for a new one. Price had told you they had a budget for your needs, plus they do get paid well. Anything you needed, they would gladly get for you.Â
You just have to ask.Â
Itâs the asking that youâre not sure you can do. It feels strange to ask anything of your new pack. Theyâre supposed to be the ones needing things from you. If Soap had wanted to kiss you, he could have. Instead he left it up to you. He let you decide. You wonder if Priceâs hesitation to move forward has been because heâs waiting on you.Â
Theyâre all waiting on you, except maybe Ghost. Theyâre waiting on you to make the first moves, on you to set the pieces on the board. What is the first move? How do you set the pieces? Did you even need to? Would they fall into place organically if you just left them alone? Or would the tension continue to build up, would you continue to affect them until it became too much and the pressure causes everything to blow?Â
âIâm affecting them.â You say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.Â
Dr. Keller tilts her head as she stares at you. âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âTheyâre soldiers. Theyâre good soldiers with years and years of training, thatâs why they're here. But...but Iâm changing that. I asked Price if I could go with them and watch them run a training course cause I read in a book that I should get to know them and the things they like and so I was just curious what they do during the day when Iâm not with them. He let me watch and he told me their top speeds running the training course but...none of them met those times with me there.â
You take a deep breath, the words pouring out of you easily now. You feel as if youâre not even thinking of them, not even measuring them or using caution as you normally would in any conversation. Theyâre slipping out from somewhere deep inside and now that youâve opened that dam, you canât stop it.Â
âPrice made them run through it five times and they still couldnât match their top speeds. He said it was a good thing that they figured that out, that they need to know how Iâm affecting them and how to adjust to me. And every time they ran through it, I couldnât stop thinking about...âÂ
You take another breath, the air catching in your lungs. Your fingers are shaking, your body sinking deeper and deeper into the chair, almost as if youâre trying to get it to swallow you whole. As if the chair might wrap its arms around you and pull you into its softness and keep you there until you canât breathe and it suffocates you.Â
âWhat if it was me? What if they were having to rescue me? I know thatâs a risk, a low one, but itâs still a risk. The CIA and Kate warned me that I could become a target if the wrong person found out about me. Thatâs why I canât know anything about what they do because that puts me at more of a risk, and I could be a threat to them and the entire world if something got out that wasnât supposed to.âÂ
Youâre breathing heavily as the words finally come to a stop. Dr. Kellerâs eyes are shining with sympathy as she stares at you. This is the most youâve ever opened up to her, the most words you feel youâve ever spoken to her in the two times now that youâve met.
It feels good. It feels really good to voice your thoughts and your fears to someone on the outside, someone you can trust wonât tell anyone. You couldnât voice these fears to your pack. Theyâre used to this kind of thing. They live with the knowledge they could die at any point, that any mission might be their last. How many lives have they seen lost, how many close calls have they had? Youâve seen scars already on arms, hands, faces. How many others are hidden where you canât see?Â
How many scars do they have inside, too?Â
âI want you to know that your fears are very valid.â Dr. Keller says, her voice soft. âBeing involved in the military comes with a lot of risks, and then you get to places like this and those risks only get greater and greater. I canât promise you that something like that wonât ever happen, because we have no way of knowing. The risk is not zero for a reason.âÂ
Dr. Keller stands from the couch, moving to the chair next to you. The calming beta scent washes over you, and you know you have to be stinking up the room. She turns the chair slightly to face you, leaning forward onto her knees. You can see the imprints on the sides of her nose from where sheâd been wearing glasses earlier.Â
âThat risk is also only low for a reason. Your identity has been well hidden, just like those of your packâs. Youâre on a well protected and secure military base. This place is a black square on Google Maps. I know, I tried looking it up when I found out where I was being assigned.â She reaches out, squeezing your arm gently. âAnd I highly doubt your pack would ever let anything happen to you. Packs are highly protective over their omegas. Even bad alphas canât fight that instinct when their pack is threatened. Your pack would quite literally go to war for you.âÂ
She is right, you know she is. Yet that fear continues to wiggle at the back of your mind. You know theyâd never let anything happen to you, but theyâre going to start leaving soon. What if something happens while theyâre not here? Who will help you then? The other soldiers? The betas that stare and the alphas that catcall you?Â
âI guess youâre right.â You say, continuing to pick at your sleeve. At this rate, by the time your heat starts, youâll have unraveled the whole sweatshirt. Â
The buzz of your phone on your nightstand pulls you from your half asleep state. Your book is on the floor, having dropped from your hands and slid off your bed as you drifted off. Your lamp is still on, casting a warm glow around your room. You prefer the softer light compared to the fluorescent overhead, as most omegas do. Thereâs something too clinical and sterile about fluorescents.Â
You grab your phone, pushing yourself up onto your elbow as you try to blink the sleepiness away. Itâs not terribly late, but youâve been feeling the exhaustion all day since your conversation with Dr. Keller.Â
âBe ready by 0500 tomorrow. Wear something meant for the outdoors.âÂ
Itâs a text from Price, your brow furrowing as you read it over. Five in the morning on a Saturday? Thatâs the earliest youâve had to get up since your arrival on base. And wear something meant for the outdoors? You can only imagine what he has planned for the day you had been planning on spending sleeping.Â
You make a quiet noise of indignation as you text back in confirmation, setting an alarm so you can be ready by 5 am. Not up by 5 am, ready by 5 am. You have half a mind to call him, or to text back asking why he feels you need to be up before the sun. You know thatâs the normal time they begin their mornings during the week, usually when you hear them up and moving around, getting ready to go work out. Thatâs usually when you roll over and go back to sleep for another hour and a half before your own alarm gets you up for breakfast.Â
You pout a little as you set your phone back on your nightstand, reaching down to grab your book and set it next to your phone. You lay back down on your bed, turning off your lamp and bathing the room in darkness. Well, itâs not totally dark. The light from the lamp outside shines in your window, casting cold shadows across the walls and floor. Youâve never been a fan of total darkness. Youâd grown used to having some light in the room at The Institute. One of your roommates had insisted on having a nightlight, and there were many nights you were grateful for it as you laid awake at the mercy of your racing mind.Â
A nightlight.Â
You add it to the mental list of things you want, but youâll never feel brave enough to ask for.Â
Your alarm rings too early in the morning, your hand lifting to silence it quickly. 4:30 am doesnât feel like a real time as you rise in darkness, hand fumbling for the switch to your lamp. You glare into the dimly lit room, trying to blink the sleepiness from your eyes. How desperately you want to curl back up under the blankets and sleep until someone knocks on the door to check on you because youâve slept so long into the day.Â
You donât doubt Price will knock in about 30 minutes to get you up. Heâll be disappointed if you ignore him, you think. He wouldnât punish you if you went against his wishes, would he?Â
You donât know that.Â
You havenât even thought to push that boundary, nor have you discussed it. You donât want to. Youâre a good omega.Â
Youâre a good omega.Â
You repeat it over and over as you get yourself ready, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up. You silently thank Kate as you pull on a pair of cargo pants and hiking boots, assuming thatâs what Price means by âsomething meant for the outdoors.â Had she bought the items in anticipation of something like this happening? You are on a military base. You should have expected youâd be pulled into something like this eventually.Â
Youâre debating on a jacket by the time the knock comes, right at 5 am. You wonder how long Price has been standing in the hallway, or if heâs perfected arriving right on the dot after years of expected punctuality. You decide on the jacket after checking the weather, slipping it on as you open the door. He hadnât mentioned needing anything, not that you own any sort of supplies for the outdoors anyway.Â
He doesnât say anything as you open the door, instead motioning with his head to follow. You quietly close your door, expecting the others to be waiting for you, but their doors are all closed and theyâre nowhere to be seen. You feel slightly nervous as you follow Price out into the cold morning air, glad you decided on the jacket as your breath steams from your lips.Â
Price is dressed in his usual boots and cargo pants with a cargo jacket and a beanie instead of a bucket hat. Thereâs two packs leaning against the side of the building, Price grabbing one and approaching you.Â
âWhat are we doing?â You ask quietly as he helps you put on the backpack, buckling it across your chest.Â
âGoing for a hike.â He says, putting on the other backpack.Â
âWhy?â You ask as he turns on a flashlight, handing it to you before turning on another one for himself.Â
âIâll explain when we get there.â He says simply, motioning for you to follow him.Â
You hesitate for half a moment. A hike in the dark? The base is surrounded by forest, but you sometimes forget due to the sprawling nature of the buildings, and your usual ventures outside the barracks being to either the mess or the medical center, all of which were central on the base.Â
Why does he feel the need to hike in the dark? Surely itâs more dangerous, especially for someone not quite so physically inclined like you. If he wanted to go on a hike, why hadnât he just said that to begin with? Maybe he would have, had you asked why last night instead of just immediately agreeing.Â
Going into the woods alone in the dark with an alpha you barely know.Â
Anxiety twists in your stomach for a moment before you force your feet forward, walking fast to catch up to him. He leads you down one of the roads on base, your boots crunching as the ground changes from asphalt to gravel. Your anxiety doesnât lessen any as the trees loom high above you in the darkness, the forest like a black void before you.Â
Your brain thinks up all the land predators that might exist in England. Do they have bears? Youâve seen Brave, but thatâs in Scotland. What about big cats like cougars or mountain lions? Are there racoons in England?Â
Youâre on a military base, you think. Surely they have means to keep out large predators that might be dangerous.Â
Your pack wonât let anything happen to you.Â
Dr. Kellerâs words float through your mind as you follow Price through the underbrush and into the trees. Youâre not following any path, at least that you can see, though your experiences in the outdoors have been very limited since you left home. Your dad liked to camp and hike, and often you and your siblings were subjected to his weekend and holiday trips into the wilderness.Â
You missed them in the early days at the Institute. You missed a lot of things back then.Â
âWhatâs eating you back there?â Price asks as you weave through trees and underbrush.Â
âThereâs nothing...dangerous out here...is there, sir?â You ask, narrowly avoiding taking a branch to the face. âBears or mountain lions?âÂ
Price chuckles. âThe worst thing you might find is a stray badger or a snake that got through the fence somehow.âÂ
âOh.â You say, shining the flashlight around you. âThatâs good.âÂ
Price stops, turning to face you. âYouâre fretting.âÂ
âWell, weâre in the woods in the dark at an ungodly hour and you wonât tell me why, sir.â You pout.Â
âDo you trust me?â He asks, staring down at you with a hard look in his eyes.Â
You stare up at him, your grip tightening on the flashlight in your hand. âShould I trust you?âÂ
He straightens up a bit, the corner of his lips twitching. âThatâs something you have to decide.â He turns back around, starting to walk again. âAll I can do is my best to try and prove myself to you. In the end, youâre the one that decides if Iâm trustworthy or not.âÂ
Youâve never thought of it that way. He could do everything in his power to get you to trust him, but in the end it is your decision. He hasnât proven you wrong yet, but then again...itâs only been a week. Youâve known him for a week and youâre following him through the woods alone in the dark.Â
Your brothers would have a fit if they saw you right now.Â
âDo you trust me?â You find yourself asking as you continue to trek through the woods, narrowly avoiding hurting yourself on various occasions.Â
âYou havenât given me reason not to.â He answers, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder. âIâd prefer it stayed that way.âÂ
âI donât think you have to worry about that, sir. I hardly think Iâm much of a threat on any term. Well, at least I donât think I am. Ghost seems to disagree.âÂ
Price lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head. âSimon...Simon is a unique case. Heâs good at his job, but that makes it hard for him to succeed in other areas. Iâm sure Johnny has told you how much Simon couldnât stand him at first. Now look at them.â He chuckles warmly, almost fondly. âHe only sees you as a threat in your nature.âÂ
You frown, glancing up at the sky. Itâs beginning to turn grey with dusk, the trees seeming to come alive around you in the dim light. âWhat do you mean by that, sir?âÂ
âYouâre an omega. To bond with an omega, there is a degree of vulnerability required by the alpha. Being around omegas requires an openness that can be frightening if youâre not used to it.â He explains. âIâm not sure if youâve noticed, but Simon isnât the most open man.âÂ
You snort quietly. âHadnât noticed, sir.âÂ
Price chuckles at your answer. âYouâre threatening to him, because youâre a challenge. Give him time. This entire situation is an adjustment for all of us, just as Iâm sure it is for you too.âÂ
You donât know how to respond to that statement. It is an adjustment. Joining any pack was, but a pack like this...a pack that has you tramping through the woods at 6 am for a reason you donât even know yet is a major adjustment.Â
Price stops after the sun has come up, taking a moment next to an outcropping of rocks. He clips your flashlight to your bag before unzipping it, passing you a bottle of water. You take it gladly, your mouth feeling dry after walking for so long.Â
âHow much further?â You ask as he drinks his own water.Â
âQuite a ways.â He answers.Â
âCan I know why weâre doing this yet?â You ask as he zips your water back into your backpack.Â
âNot yet.â He says, continuing onward.
You let out an exasperated sigh, but follow him anyway. You donât have much of a choice.Â
Your legs are beginning to get tired, and youâre starting to feel a bit hungry. Youâre not sure if you should say anything, or if heâd even stop. You assume heâs packed food, or at least you hope so. Youâre going to get grumpy if youâre traversing all over the forest for hours with nothing to eat.Â
Price slows his pace a bit as you approach what you think is a clearing. You can see a break in the trees ahead, the sun coming through brighter here. Youâre sore and tired, your phone telling you youâve been walking for just over two hours.Â
How big is this base?
You break through the treeline, finding a small clearing with what looks like a fire watch tower in the middle of it. Itâs not what you were expecting, the many scenarios of why you had been dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour and forced to hike through the woods youâve been thinking up the last two hours, did not end quite like this. You stare up at the tower, your head tilting back to take it in.Â
âNot scared of heights, are you?â Price asks, standing beside you.Â
âMaybe.â You answer, eyeing the staircase winding around it to get to the top.Â
âCome on.â He says, nudging you forward gently. âUp the stairs.âÂ
The last thing you want to do after walking for two hours is climb a never ending staircase, but you donât think you have much of a choice. Perhaps you can finally sit once you get to the top, and maybe youâll even get to eat.Â
Price follows behind you as you take the steps, climbing slowly. Your legs are screaming, your feet aching in your boots. You wouldnât be surprised if theyâre bleeding a little, or if you wind up with blisters. Youâre breathing heavily by the time you get to the top, sweat beading on your brow. Price doesnât even seem winded behind you, and youâre sure he could have jogged up the steps if he wanted to.Â
The top of the tower is mostly empty except for a small table and two chairs. Thereâs no windows, the tower open between the railing and the roof. Price sets his bag on the table, unzipping it. You sink into one of the chairs, letting your bag drop to the floor.Â
âCan I know why weâre here now?â You ask him.Â
âDrink some water and take a breath first.â He says, pulling a couple packets out of his bag. MREâs.Â
You dig your bottle out of your bag, taking note of the other contents inside. A few snack bars, a couple MREâs of your own, another unopened bottle of water, and a book. Thereâs things in the other pockets but you donât bother looking, guzzling down more water.Â
You stand from your chair, your legs almost buckling in protest as Price gets the MREâs cooking. You lean against the railing, looking down over the forest that stretches out as far as you can see below.Â
âCan I know now?â You ask, knowing there has to be a good reason for him to bring you out here.Â
âA training exercise.â He says finally.Â
âA training exercise?â You frown, turning to look at him over your shoulder. It wasnât a training exercise for you, was it?Â
âSometimes when we get a specific target on a mission, the only thing we have to go off of is a general location and a scent.â He explains. âWe have to be able to track that scent effectively, sometimes for miles. We run training exercises out here to test their ability to track scents to hunt down a target.âÂ
You stare at the sprawling woods, beginning to understand. âSo, theyâre hunting a scent that will lead them here?âÂ
Price chuckles lowly, his hands coming to rest on the railing on either side of you. Your stomach flutters as he leans in close, his scent strong in your nose as his breath fans your ear. âTechnically, theyâre hunting you.âÂ
Your knuckles go white as they grip the railing, your blood pulsing in your veins. Youâre well aware that some alphas like to hunt their omegas. Thereâs some primal urge deep within your brains to chase and be chased. Youâre well aware of how it usually ends, the thought making your stomach clench.Â
âYou gave me the idea.â Price says, the warmth of his body radiating through your jacket. âWhen you asked to watch them train, I saw how you affected them, I thought...maybe you can be useful for their training afterall.âÂ
âDo they...do they know itâs me?â You ask as he steps back from you. You fight the urge to whine at the loss of proximity.Â
âThey do now.â He says with a smirk. âTheyâve already started, so if they can follow your scent successfully, then theyâll be here in about an hour.â He says, looking at his watch.Â
You frown a little. âBut...we walked for two hours.âÂ
He smiles a little, pointing to a break in the trees below you hadnât noticed until now. âThat trailhead is a 20 minute hike back to base.âÂ
Your frown deepens. âBut-âÂ
âWe werenât walking in a straight line.â He explains. âWe doubled back and recrossed the trail several times to try and confuse them, just as someone running from them would do.â He passes you one of the MREâs. âThatâs what I want you to do, if it ever comes to it. You donât fight unless you have no other choice. You always try to run first.âÂ
âYes, sir.â You say, sitting down again. You donât think youâd do much damage fighting anyway, but you donât tell him that.Â
You open the package, peeking at the contents. Some sort of potato hash, you think, but you donât really care. Youâre so hungry youâll gladly eat the mystery re-hydrated food. Price sinks into the other chair with a quiet sigh, digging into the food. Itâs quiet out in the woods, the only other sound besides the two of you the sounds of birds.Â
Youâve always loved the woods, the quiet serenity of such isolation. You could imagine Price living in a log cabin miles from civilization, with animals and his own garden, happily living in quiet peace away from the stresses of life and war. You blame the fluttering in your stomach on the lingering thoughts of a chase, of a hunt. The thought of running, trying to evade soldiers who train to hunt others by their scents has goosebumps forming on your skin.Â
Theyâre not from the cold either.Â
The sun has disappeared behind clouds, the grey weather of England quickly becoming normal to you. You havenât seen the sun much since you landed in London two weeks ago, and youâre sure youâre not going to see much of it for quite a long while.Â
âWhatâs got you all twitchy over there?â Price asks, breaking the silence.Â
You turn to look at him, your mouth open a bit in surprise. âHow can you tell?âÂ
âIâve been trained to notice small details, sweetheart.â He says, grinning at you. âYour fingers always get fidgety first. Like youâre looking for something to do with them. Usually they disappear beneath your sleeves, or you start picking at your clothes. Your scent changes too. Subtly, but still noticeable.âÂ
Oh god. You wince a little bit. He can still smell you, even outdoors in an open area.Â
âYour eyes start to move, looking all over the place, like youâre searching for something, or trying not to stare at one place too long.â He continues, making you want to sink deeper and deeper into the chair until you disappear. Of course he can read you like a book. They all probably can. âYour breathing always picks up, fast enough itâs noticeable if youâre paying attention. Itâs easy to set you off too, sweet little thing.âÂ
Warmth floods your face at his words and his stare, the back of your neck prickling. You meet his gaze across the table, the look in his eyes making you feel like you want to crawl under the table and hide. You hate that he can read you so easily. You wonât be able to hide anything from him.Â
He probably knows you already have.Â
You continue to hold his gaze, not backing down despite the intense tickling at the back of your neck. Touch alphas like a challenge, you repeat it over and over in your head.Â
Donât back down.Â
Donât back down.Â
Donât back down.Â
A quiet growl rumbles through his chest, a shiver shooting down your spine so violently it nearly steals your breath. You fight the urge to bear your throat to him in submission, your head tilting back just slightly as your eyes squeeze closed. Youâre panting, warmth pooling in your stomach as he chuckles lowly. Heâs won, he knows it. You were never going to win. Nature was set against you. Your nature is to submit to him.Â
âInnocent little thing, arenât ya?â He says, pulling a cigar from one of his pockets.Â
You know he smokes, you know they all do. Youâve smelled it on them many times, and it was to be expected. Your father hadnât started until after he joined the Marines. Your mother hated it. âDirty habit.â She always whispered as she smelled his uniform and the laundry he brought home from deployment.Â
He could have had worse ones, you always thought.Â
You canât help but watch his lips curl around the cigar, the scent of tobacco permeating the air. His eyes are still on you, your own lips tingling a bit. You think back to how close you had been with Soap, inches from having your first real kiss. You regret it a bit now, not letting him kiss you. He wouldnât have known he was your first, except perhaps by your awkwardness.Â
You wonder how many times theyâve all been kissed. You wonder how many times they've kissed each other. You wonder how many barrack bunnies Price has been with, how many other omegas heâs been with. You canât imagine Ghost being one for barrack bunnies, but then your mind sinks somewhere deeper. Ghost in his mask with an omega bent over the side of his bed, his hand wrapped around the back of their neck...Â
Another shiver runs down your spine, your lower body beginning to pulse in time with your heart.Â
âWhatâs going through that head of yours?â Price asks, still staring at you.Â
âSoap almost kissed me a couple days ago.â You admit, not trusting yourself not to admit to the other things youâre thinking about.Â
Priceâs brows lift in surprise. âDid you not want him to?âÂ
Want. Thereâs that word again. You keep hearing it, but youâre not entirely sure what it means anymore. Heâs asking to be sure that Soap didnât force you into anything, even though you canât imagine the beta doing such a thing. Betas usually werenât aggressive without good reason, not like alphas.Â
âWell...no, thatâs not it...â You say, your face burning as you begin to regret your choice of topic. âI...I havenât kissed anyone before...well, not like a real kiss. At The Institute, there was this omega, she was...progressive. Nothing they tried could break her of that and she got into the heads of a few other omegas. One of my bunkmates decided she didnât want an alpha to be her first kiss, so...I volunteered.âÂ
Price continues to stare at you, a dark look in his eyes. You know some alphas like to watch omegas together. Youâve seen it in movies, things your brothers would put on when they were babysitting, things that would have gotten them hit over the head if your father found out.Â
âIs that so?â He finally says, flicking some of the ash from the end of his cigar. âNot even a real kiss before you presented?âÂ
You shake your head. âNo. I was...the weird kid in school. Most people considered it social suicide to be around me.â You let out a sarcastic laugh. âI bet quite a few of them are kicking themselves now.âÂ
âWhy didnât you want Soap to kiss you?â He asks, concern lacing his voice. Heâs still wondering if he needs to have a long chat with the young Sergeant, or perhaps take other action.Â
âWell...it wasnât so much that I didnât want it.â You say. âI just...thought you might be upset...if you werenât my first...â You swallow nervously at his stare. âSince youâre pack alpha...you have the right to claim-âÂ
âI wouldnât care.â He cuts you off, almost as if heâs uncomfortable with the idea of him having all the rights to claim you. As if he was uncomfortable with the idea of holding a claim over someone else. âIf you want your first kiss to be with one of the others, then you shouldnât keep yourself from what you want.âÂ
His words echo Dr. Kellerâs. It confuses you, their willingness to allow you to want. Youâre an omega, you donât get to want. You get told what to do, what to wear. You get told what to want. You donât make decisions, you sit and be a good omega for your alpha.Â
âI donât know what I want.â You say quietly.Â
âThink about it.â He says, stubbing out his cigar. âI wonât be upset. Makes me feel a little better, in truth. Makes me feel less like an old creep trying to steal your innocence.âÂ
You try not to smile at his words. âI mean...you are, in a way.âÂ
He tsks at you but his eyes are playful as he checks his watch. âYouâre trouble. Weâve got a few minutes before the hour is up. Letâs see if they can beat it.âÂ
You stare out at the treeline, taking deep gulps of the cool air to try and calm yourself as you wait for the others to arrive. Youâre still tingling a bit from your conversation with Price, that slight tickle still crawling across the back of your neck. You want him to hold you there, feel his calloused skin against yours, feel the strength of his fingers as they press into your skin. You want him to take all the turmoil away, the fear and the insecurity and the confusion.Â
You want to kneel for him.Â
Youâre saved from your thoughts as a familiar figure breaks through the treeline, big and hulking and wearing a skull on his face. Youâve never seen him in this mask before, only ever seeing him in his balaclava. Itâs a haunting image, only his eyes visible as he looks up at the top of the tower. Soap and Gaz appear behind him, the three of them making for the staircase.Â
Their boots echo on the steps as they race to the top, Soap the first one to appear with a wide grin.Â
âAye, we found the target!â He exclaims, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you into the air and spinning.
You yelp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life. He smells like musk and sweat, and you canât help but wonder if they ran here. He sets you back on your feet, your legs aching in protest after sitting for too long. The soreness of your morning hike has caught up to you, and youâll be feeling it for a few days.Â
âNot bad.â Price says, looking at his watch. âFor the first time with a new scent.â He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders. âCome on, letâs get back and you can have the rest of the day off.âÂ
You let out a whine in protest as Price grabs your backpack, gaining the attention of the four men. âYou mean we have to walk back too?âÂ
âItâs not even a kilometer.â Gaz says with a grin.Â
You pout. âI donât know how far that is! I already had to walk for two hours this morning. My legs hurt.âÂ
âYou didnât stretch before you started?â Soap asks.Â
âNo! I didnât know weâd be hiking halfway across the country when I was told to get up at 5 am!â You continue to pout.Â
âCome on, youâll survive.â Price says, clipping your backpack across your chest again. âYou can sleep for the rest of the day.âÂ
You definitely have blisters, the sides of your feet burning as you walk down the stairs. Youâre going to take a very long shower when you get back to base, and then crawl into bed and sleep until someone inevitably knocks because theyâre worried about you. Youâre still pouting, not having even thought about how you were going to get back to base.Â
Soap stops at the bottom of the steps, turning to glance at you behind him as he bends down slightly. âHop on, hen.âÂ
It takes you a moment to conceptualize what heâs doing before you break out in a grin, putting your hands on his shoulders to hoist yourself onto his back. His hands grip the backs of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as he carries you piggy-back style.Â
âIâve lifted weights heavier than you, bonny.â He says, not seeming to struggle at all with carrying you.Â
âWell, omegas are supposed to be small.â You say, leaning your head on his shoulder.Â
âAye, like a wee bairn.â Soap laughs.Â
He carries you all the way back to base, barely even breathing heavily by the time you break the treeline. The rocking motion of being carried, along with your exhaustion, has lulled you into a daze, your head leaning against his as you desperately fight sleep.Â
Youâre jostled awake as Soap gently bounces you on his back. âWeâre back, hen.âÂ
You grumble sleepily, holding onto him tighter. âComfy.âÂ
âYouâll be comfier in bed, love.â Gaz says, stroking your hair.Â
âCarry me.â You murmur, both of them freezing.Â
âYou sure about that, hen?â Soap asks. âYou wanât tae let us in your space?âÂ
âMmm...yeah.â You murmur, nuzzling Soapâs shoulder.Â
You miss the silent conversation between them in your half asleep state, the way Gazâs hand hesitates on the knob, their slow, cautious steps into your space. It was a big deal, infringing upon an omegaâs space. Itâs sacred. One could only enter with permission, or if it was an emergency. Infringing on that space without permission could be detrimental.Â
Soap gently lowers you onto your bed, helping you curl up on your side. Gaz unties your boots, setting them on the floor next to the bed before pulling off your socks. He lets out a quiet hiss as he spots your raw and blistered feet.Â
âThatâs going to hurt later.â He whispers. âNo wonder she didnât want to walk back.âÂ
âDidnae say nothing either.â Soap says, his fingers trailing your cheek.Â
âStubborn little omega.âÂ
Gazâs words are the last you hear before youâre lost to sleep, your brain forcing you to give in to your exhaustion finally.Â
Itâs knocking at the door that wakes you. Youâre not sure what time it is, or what planet youâre on. Your eyes are crusty with sleep, your pillow damp from drooling. Youâre in your bed in the barracks, tucked under a blanket. You vaguely remember giving Gaz and Soap permission to enter before you were out again.Â
Itâs still daylight, judging by the light around the edges of your curtains. Or maybe you had slept through the day and it was morning. You canât tell, feeling a bit like you were hit by a bus and jumped dimensions.Â
âCâmon lass, ye got tae eat at least one meal today.â Soapâs voice calls through the door.Â
You let out a groan, pushing yourself up to sit. You havenât even changed or showered, but your shoes have been removed. You flex your toes, wincing at the sharp pain from them. You pull the blanket off, staring down at your bandaged feet. They must be as blistered and raw as they had felt in your shoes. You donât want to get up. Youâre going to be sore and probably walking with a limp.Â
You know what theyâre going to think.Â
The stares youâll get.Â
Soon it will be for that reason, though, you think. Why not let them think it now? Then maybe by then theyâll be used to it and itâll be much less mortifying for you.Â
You get up, padding barefoot to the door. You open it, rubbing at your eyes. âWhat time is it?â Your voice sounds rough with sleep, your tongue feeling heavy.Â
âAlmost 1800 hours.â He answers. âPrice let ye sleep. He and Gaz already ate. Had something tae take care of.âÂ
You let out a quiet groan as you rub your eyes. You slept all day, past lunch and nearly past dinner. You likely would have kept sleeping, had they let you, but then youâd be up at an ungodly hour having to scrounge for food in the rec room.Â
âGet some shoes on.â Soap says. âWeâll get food in ye, then ye can sleep more.âÂ
You let out a quiet grumble but do as he says, grabbing your most comfortable pair of shoes before following him out of the barracks. You let your hand slip into his, the base less populated on the weekend. The mess is still busy, though, most of those that stay keeping their schedules even over the weekend.Â
Soap helps you make your tray before finding Ghost sitting at a table. You deposit your tray across from them before going to grab something to drink. You look over the options, your sleep-drunk brain trying to decide on what you need.Â
âI recommend coffee.â A voice says behind you.Â
You spin around, looking up at a familiar face. Your stomach twists nervously, the back of your neck prickling. Itâs the soldier that had been staring at you your second day on base, the one Ghost had scared off with his glare.Â
âYou look like you need it.â He says, giving what you assume is supposed to be a friendly smile, except to you it looks like the grin of a hungry wolf in a storybook, and youâre the injured rabbit about to be devoured. You flinch just slightly as he holds out a hand. âIâm Corporal McKinney.âÂ
You donât want to take his hand, you donât want to touch him at all. Catcalling you could handle, the stares and the whistles were nothing. None of them have been so brave as to approach you before now, and youâre starting to realize you prefer it that way.Â
An overwhelming scent suddenly washes over you, the prickling at the back of your neck intensifying. Itâs rich and deep, the scent of leather and gunpowder lacing the ozone-like tang of anger, of danger.Â
âCan I help you, Corporal?â The deep voice rumbles behind you, the warmth close enough all youâd have to do was lean back slightly and youâd be touching him.Â
The soldierâs eyes lift from you to Ghost behind you, the wicked gleam to them fading as he stares down the giant alpha. âNo, sir.â The soldier swallows thickly. âJust thought Iâd introduce myself to the new omega on base. Figured weâd be seeing a lot of her around.âÂ
âSheâs no concern of yours.â Ghost says, a dangerous rumble vibrating at the edge of his voice. âYou were given the briefing.âÂ
He hesitates and you know heâs measuring the risk of staying, of saying something else. Itâs not just the threat of a dangerous alpha, but also of his superior. âOf course, sir.â He finally says, eyeing you once more before he turns on his heel, leaving the mess.Â
âWhat do you want?âÂ
You turn on your heel, staring up at Ghost. Youâre shaking a little, staring up at him wide-eyed. You no longer feel the haze of sleep, wide awake and alert. Ghost is staring down at you, his scent far less prominent than it had been before.
âTo drink.â He motions to the selection, waiting on you to answer.Â
You stare at the options, your brain trying hard to snap back into the present, to comprehend what youâre looking at. Youâre on edge, on high alert after that confrontation.Â
âW-Water please.â You manage to stutter out,Â
âGo sit back down. Iâll get it.â He says, turning his back to you.Â
You scurry back to the table, still trembling as you take your seat again. Youâre getting stares, likely from the change in your scent. Itâs alerting every alpha and beta in close proximity, their instincts reacting to the scent of fear, of an threatened omega.Â
âYe alright, hen?â Soap asks, giving you a worried look. The scent of beta washes over you, Soap projecting his scent to try and cover yours and calm you all at once.Â
You nod, trying to swallow the panic before you alert the entire mess to your current emotional state. âYeah. Yeah, Iâm alright.âÂ
Ghost returns with a glass of water, setting it in front of you before taking his seat again.Â
âThank you.â You murmur, taking a long drink of it. Itâs ice cold, the sensation shocking you back into reality a bit.Â
Youâre still trembling slightly as you eat, the back of your neck still prickling. You glance around the quickly emptying mess, eyes following every person that walks too close to the table. You know youâre safe. Soap and Ghost would make quick work of anyone who tried anything.Â
Ghost did make quick work of the alpha that had approached you.Â
Youâre still in a bit of disbelief that Ghost had come to your aid. You remember the anger burning in his scent, the rumble at the edge of his voice. An alpha poised for a fight. Of course, you were being cornered by another alpha. You donât doubt Soap could have easily won that fight if he had to, but an alpha had the natural advantage in a fight against other alphas. If it had been a beta cornering you, would he have still come to your aid? Or would he have watched and let Soap handle it?Â
You're drawn from your thoughts as Soapâs phone rings, and he dismisses himself from the table to answer it. You wonder who it might be. Family maybe? Price? You wish you had someone that would call you regularly. You will, once they start leaving you.Â
Youâre left alone with Ghost, your eyes trying to look anywhere but at him. He takes your tray once youâre done, going to dump it before motioning for you to follow. Youâre still a bit shaken, though youâve managed to get your trembling under control, as well as your scent.Â
He leads you back towards the barracks, your pace faster to keep up with him. Your feet hurt, but youâre eager to get back to the familiar safety of the barracks.Â
You stop as a whistle sounds through the air, Ghostâs steps faltering as well.Â
âGonna go spread your legs for that freak, bunny?â A voice calls out across the courtyard. âIâm sure I could offer you a better time. At least youâll be able to see my face.âÂ
The smell of ozone washes over you again, burning straight to some primal part of your brain. Youâre not sure if itâs the exhaustion, or the emotions still reeling from your confrontation in the mess, but you turn on your heel, stalking over to the group of soldiers. Youâre trembling again, but not out of fear. The anger has gone straight to your instincts, burning hot through your veins.Â
The soldiers laugh as you approach, the one that had spoken grinning vilely at you. âGonna take me up on my offer, omega?â The sound of your title from his lips nearly makes you shudder in disgust. Itâs wrong, it sounds wrong being said in such a way. âIâd love to bend you over and stare at that sweet ass all night-âÂ
Itâs not until your hand is throbbing that you register what happened. The soldier stumbles back a step, hand moving to his face. Your hand is balled in a fist, knuckles throbbing from the punch you delivered to his face. The next few moments seem to move in slow motion, your body pushed backwards as a hulking form comes to stand in front of you. The scent of ozone is still burning hot in your nose, anger pulsing through your body. Your ears are ringing, your hands refusing to unball from the fists theyâve closed into. Youâre breathing heavily, eyes training on a small speck of mud on the back of Ghostâs jacket.Â
â-You even so much as look in her direction again, Iâll rip your intestines out, tie them to the back of a humvee and drag you all the way to London, understood?â The dangerous rumble is back at the edge of his voice, his own hands balled into fists.Â
âLoud and clear, sir.â The soldier spits out, massaging his face from your punch.Â
A rough hand closes around your arm, making you stumble as youâre half dragged towards the barracks. Youâre breathing heavily, breaths coming in gasps as the flood of emotions through you grows to almost be too much. Youâre led down the hall towards the rec room, Ghost pushing you inside.Â
âSit.â He snaps, pointing at the couch.
You scramble to sit where he pointed, your brain beginning to move in autopilot as you cradle your throbbing hand to your chest. Itâs still curled in a fist, the adrenaline pumping through you preventing you from uncurling your fingers. You try to steady your breathing as Ghost digs around in the fridge for a moment. You flinch as the door slams closed, Ghost dropping an ice pack on the coffee table before he takes a seat next to you on the couch.Â
He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him rather roughly. He forces your fingers to uncurl, his own rough fingers digging into your hand, poking and prodding. He moves your fingers, bending your wrist and moving your arm. âItâs not broken.â He says, grabbing the ice pack and slapping it across your knuckles. âLuckily.âÂ
Youâre still trembling, your hand lifting subconsciously to hold the ice pack in place. You feel dazed, not unlike you had earlier when youâd been pulled from sleep, only this time you can feel the emotions still pulsing through you. The remnants of anger, the disgust, the fear both from attacking an alpha, and the reprimanding youâre sure youâre due for doing such a thing.
âI shouldnât have done that.â You murmur, feeling far away, outside of your body looking in.Â
âProbably not.â Ghost says.Â
You turn slightly to look at him, pupils dilated as you simultaneously appear to see him and look straight through him. âPrice is gonna find out.â
Ghost nods again, the burn of ozone gone from his scent. âHeâll believe you, though. Anything you tell him, heâs going to believe you over what anyone else says.âÂ
You stare at him, the skull mask from earlier gone, leaving him just in his balaclava. His eyelashes are blonde, you think as you take him in, trying to ground yourself. His skin looks soft, but that could just be the omega screaming at you. You expect him to get up, to leave you alone until you find the will to move, or one of the others finds you. Yet, he stays where he is, eyes focused across the room as you sit there.Â
âYouâre a purebred alpha.â You say, breaking the silence with the thought that had come to mind earlier. You need to keep talking, to keep your mind steady while you relax.Â
âHow did you figure it out?â He asks, not denying it.Â
âYour scent.â You say, recalling earlier in the mess, the way his scent had permeated your entire body. You hadnât just sensed it, you had felt it. His emotions, his anger, the hint of desperation for the Corporal to make the smart decision and walk away. âItâs different from other alphas. Price smells good and Iâd like to roll around in his scent, but yours hits some deep primal part of my brain.â You say, turning slowly to face him. âMakes sense youâd end up in a position like this. Youâre supposed to be like, an apex human.â You laugh quietly. âJust a couple of purebreds. What are the odds?âÂ
âVery high.â He answers.Â
You laugh again. âYeah, I know. Both of my parents were purebreds, and my grandparents. Both of them came from a long line of purebreds.â Your brows pinch into a frown. âI didnât see it in your file, though.âÂ
âI donât want it to be.â He explains.Â
âMakes sense.â You say. âIf Iâd had that choice Iâd have it left out too. As soon as someone sees it, thatâs how they measure your worth. Itâs not about you anymore, itâs your status they want.â You lift the ice, moving your fingers. Your hand is sore, your knuckles starting to swell a bit.Â
âItâll bruise.â He says, staring down at your hand.Â
ââSpose it could have been worse.â You say, grimacing at the ache pulsing all the way to your shoulder.
âYeah,â He scoffs. âYou could have broken your arm with a punch like that.âÂ
ââS not my fault the CIA didnât teach me much.â You murmur. âThey mostly made me run.â You remember the hours and hours you spend running circles around the gym. So many circles, over and over again.Â
Get involved in their hobbies. Your brain flicks through that section of the book, an idea beginning to form in your head. Youâd considered it a few days ago, when you first read that chapter. Ghost speaks in violence and warfare, fighting and defending. How do you bond with the apex of humankind?Â
âTeach me to fight.âÂ
His eyes shift slowly until heâs looking at you. You wish you could see the rest of his face, read his expression. His eyes don't give you much to go off of, something he'd likely perfected over the years.Â
âOr, at least defend myself.â You continue, fighting the urge to shrink back under his gaze. âI know, Price already told me to run first, but what if that's not an option? Am I gonna throw a shitty punch and hope it works? Aim between the legs and hope I'm faster than they can block? I promise I won't go around trying to fight asshole alphas.â
He continues to stare at you, his eyes locked on yours. Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach twisting nervously but there's no challenge in his gaze, not even a playful one like you'd initiated with Price. He's simply staring.Â
You wonder what he's looking for, what he's thinking. Will he laugh at you for asking? Tell you to ask someone else? Get Price to do it since heâs actually your alpha?Â
âFine.â He grunts, breaking eye contact first as he pushes himself to stand. âWe start Monday. Early.âÂ
A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him leave the rec room. You may have just found your way into Ghostâs heart, or at least a way to get him to tolerate your presence.Â
Monday. Early.Â
Youâll be ready.Â
NEXT ->
Taglist Part 1:
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#call of duty fic#call of duty#cod fic#john price x reader#captain price x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#a/b/o#alpha beta omega dynamics#omegaverse#x reader
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How does that feel?
my masterlist
+18!!!
pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You've been having a hard time finishing in bed and you finally tell Spencer what's going on. words: 4,4k warnings: smut - oral (fem! receiving), breast/nipple play, unprotected sex (don't do that) a/n: this was a request! also, i've stared at this thing for so long i don't know anymore what's going on, but i hope yall like it <3
You sat at a cozy corner table in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by your closest friends - Penelope, Emily, and JJ. The four of you had met up for a much-needed girls' night out to finally have a chance to unwind and catch up.Â
"Can you believe the latest case we worked on?" JJ said, shaking her head. "Sometimes it feels like we're living in a crime novel."
"Tell me about it," Emily agreed. "But PLEASE! Letâs not talk about work. I need to decompress."
Penelope raised her glass. "To decompressing! And to⊠friends!"
You all clinked glasses, smiling at each other. Very quickly the conversation shifted towards more personal topics.
"So, how are things with Will?" Emily asked, turning to JJ.
JJ smiled. "Things are great, actually. We're planning a little getaway next month, just the two of us. What about you, Em? Any romance on the horizon?"
Emily shrugged. "I'm enjoying the single life right now. Besides, itâs not easy to find love having this job. When am I supposed to do that?"
Penelope grinned. "Donât you worry about it, pumpkin! Youâre gonna find someone soon. I can feel it in my bones!."
The conversation continued in this vein for a while, each of you sharing updates about your romantic lives. You listened and laughed along, but Penelope's observant eyes caught the slightly distant look on your face.
"Alright, spill it," Penelope prompted, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "What's been going on with you lately? You've seemed a bit off."
You sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment. These were your friends, after all, and you knew you could trust them. "It's just... I've been having a hard time finishing in bed lately. It's been⊠really frustrating."
Emily raised an eyebrow, her expression sympathetic. "Have you talked to Spencer about it?"
You shook your head. "Not yet. I mean, I want to, but I don't want to make him feel bad or think it's his fault. He's always so attentive, and I don't want him to think he's doing something wrong. And heâs not doing anything wrong. Heâs perfect. Obviously."
JJ leaned in, her voice gentle. "Hey, communication is key. Spencer loves you, and I'm sure heâd want to know what's going on so he can help. Iâm sure his big brain knows exactly what to do."
Penelope nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! Plus, it could be an opportunity to explore new things together⊠Sometimes all it takes is a little experimentation."
You smiled, feeling a bit more encouraged. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I'll talk to him."
-------------------------------------
Later that evening, you found yourself back at home, sitting on the couch next to Spencer. He was engrossed in a book, the dim light casting soft shadows across his focused face. He set the book aside when he noticed your pensive expression, concern immediately clouding his eyes.
"Hey, is everything okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but laced with worry.
You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest. "Spence, there's something I need to talk to you about."
He turned to face you fully, his full attention on you, his brow furrowing slightly. "Of course. What is it?"
You hesitated, your fingers twisting in your lap as you searched for the right words. Finally, you decided to dive in. "Lately, I've been having a hard time finishing in bed. It's been really frustrating for me, and I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want you to feel bad."
Spencer's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding and concern. His mouth opened slightly as if to speak, but he hesitated, clearly processing what you had just revealed. "OhâŠâ
You immediately regretted saying anything. It wasn't the end of the world, after all. You still enjoyed sex but just couldn't reach the high. Maybe you were just too stressed.Â
It had nothing to do with Spencer.Â
Tears welled up in your eyes as Spencer seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed as he tried to find the right words. Why would he know what to say? You felt like you were just making things difficult.
âForget it. Itâs fine,â you said quickly, trying to dismiss the conversation and spare him the discomfort.
âNo, no, no, wait,â he said, reaching out and grabbing your hands as you started to stand up. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding you. âItâs okay. Iâm glad you told me. I just⊠how did I not notice? I⊠Iâm just trying to remember, well, I remember everything and I just⊠I canât believe I⊠couldnât tell.â
âItâs fine, Spencer. I didnât want you to know. Itâs embarrassing.â Your voice wavered, and you looked away, feeling tears start to spill down your cheeks.
âNo, itâs not. Itâs not embarrassing. I want you to feel good.â
âIt does feel good. Always. I just⊠I donât know. I just canât cum. Itâs like I get almost there and it feels good, but it never happens.â At this point, you were crying openly, the frustration and embarrassment overwhelming you.
Spencer pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. You buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and steady beat of his heart. He rubbed your back soothingly, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. "Hey, hey, itâs okay. Weâll figure this out together. I want to help."
You clung to him, feeling the weight of your frustration starting to lift just a little. "Iâm sorry. I just didnât want you to think it was your fault."
Spencer pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his gaze intense and filled with love. âItâs not your fault, and itâs not my fault. Sometimes these things happen. Whatâs important is that weâre in this together. We can try new things, we can talk and see what works for you.â
You nodded, sniffling a little. âOkay. Iâd like that.â
âGood,â he said, smiling gently, his thumb brushing away a tear from your cheek. âWeâll take it slow and explore together. Your pleasure is important to me, and Iâm willing to do whatever it takes to make sure youâre satisfied.â
As you snuggled into his arms, the tension slowly easing from your body, you wondered why you had been so scared to tell him in the first place. Spencer always knew what to say, always knew how to make you feel safe and loved.Â
This was Spencer - your Spencer - and you realized you had nothing to fear.
-------------------------------------
Spencer was clearly waiting for you to initiate anything, respecting your pace and comfort. In the meantime, he very carefully tried to understand you.
Despite his constant reassurances that there was nothing to be ashamed of and that he was more than happy to figure this out together, you couldn't shake the lingering embarrassment about your problem. He was understanding and supportive, trying to create a safe space for you to open up about your frustrations.
You spent several nights just talking, diving deep into the details of your intimate experiences. Spencer approached it with a mix of curiosity and determination, asking thoughtful and sometimes probing questions.Â
You discussed every position you'd tried before, analyzing what felt best and why. You talked about your feelings toward toys and whether they might help.Â
Spencer inquired about foreplay - whether it felt too short, too long, too intense, or not intense enough. He wanted to understand what was most pleasurable for you in terms of finishing. Was it when he was eating you out, fingering you, or through penetration? Or did you find that a combination of these was most satisfying?Â
He also asked if you enjoyed it when he talked to you during the act. What were your favorite things for him to say?Â
He wanted to understand everything about your experiences. What went through your mind when you masturbated? What kind of porn did you watch? Each question, while sometimes making your face flush with embarrassment, was asked with genuine care and focus.Â
Spencer treated it like a meticulous scientific research project, aiming to solve the problem with the utmost care and attentiveness. His dedication and focus made you feel deeply cared for, as he was on a mission to be the one to help you find the satisfaction you deserved.
On Saturday night, you and Spencer lay in bed with your books, enjoying the quiet comfort of each other's company. He was engrossed in a thick classic novel in a foreign language, while you were absorbed in your favorite authorâs new romance. The plot had just reached the point where the two protagonists had sex for the first time. The scene stirred something deep within you, making your skin feel hot and your heart race. You bit your lip, trying to concentrate, but your thoughts kept drifting.
As the scene ended, you finally allowed yourself to look over at Spencer. He was completely lost in the pages, his brows furrowed in concentration.
âHaving problems, genius?â you teased, your voice carrying a playful edge.
âWhat? No!â he replied, not even looking up from the words on the page. âHowâs your romance? Is it good?â
âOh... itâs very good,â you said, scooting closer to him, propping your head on your hand. Finally, he looked at you, curiosity mingling with his usual attentiveness.
âWhat is it?â he asked, sensing your change in mood.
âNothing,â you replied with feigned innocence, placing your hand on his chest.Â
His eyes stayed on you, studying your expression. Your breathing grew heavier as you stared at his neck, unable to hold back any longer. You lowered your face to the side of his neck, your lips brushing against his skin.
Spencer's breath hitched slightly, and he set his book aside, his attention fully on you now. "Are you sure it's nothing?" he murmured, his voice low and inviting.
You smiled against his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin. "Well, maybe it's something," you admitted, your voice a whisper. Your fingers traced gentle patterns on his chest, feeling a now quicker beat of his heart beneath your touch.
Spencerâs hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. âTell me,â he urged softly, his eyes filled with desire.
The room felt charged with electricity.Â
âWell⊠I was just reading this scene⊠where, you know⊠the girl and the boy finally fucked. On the floor. It made me think of us.â you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.
âYou want to have sex on the floor?â Spencer asked with a serious tone.
You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. âNo, too many germs,â you said with a playful grin.
Spencer chuckled, his eyes softening with affection. âAlright, not on the floor then,â he said, his voice low and inviting as his hand gently caressed your cheek. âBut I get the idea.â
You leaned into his touch, your heart pounding with anticipation. âI just want to be close to you,â you murmured, your fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone.
Spencer's eyes darkened with understanding, and he leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft yet insistent. âThen letâs explore that together,â he whispered against your lips, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip, pulling you closer.
His kiss was deep, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency that sent shivers down your spine.Â
His hand, now resting on your hip, guided you closer, pressing your bodies together.Â
You instinctively rubbed your thighs together, seeking some friction, and Spencer, ever observant, immediately noticed. It seemed impossible for him to be more attentive, yet somehow he was.Â
With a gentle but deliberate motion, he turned you so that you were lying on your back beneath him. As he shifted, you felt the press of his already hard cock against your core, making you lift your hips slightly, yearning for more contact.
âWeâre gonna take things slow, okay?â he murmured, his voice soft but firm. âI want you to feel good.â
You wanted him, you wanted him now, but you understood his approach.Â
After all the endless conversations, you and Spencer had reached a few conclusions about what worked best for you both.Â
For one, you often found yourselves too excited, mostly you, to slow things down. Foreplay, though it was present, had usually been quite brief due to the intense need to get naked and feel him inside you. So, longer foreplay became a new priority.
Two, you discovered that you felt most connected when he was close to you, every part of his body touching yours.
Three, you both agreed on the importance of more kissing. Spencer had given you what felt like a comprehensive college level lesson on erogenous zones, emphasizing the need to focus on and cherish these areas.Â
His lips, his touch, his breath - every aspect of physical intimacy was to be savored and explored in greater depth.
With these insights in mind, Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. His hands roamed your body with a slow, deliberate grace, each touch designed to explore and stimulate.Â
His kisses traveled from your lips to your neck, then lower, each movement a careful balance of passion and tenderness.
He paused to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with both love and a hint of playful mischief. âReady for us to take our time?â he asked, his voice a soothing murmur.
You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. âYes,â you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of excitement and relief. âLetâs take our time.â
Your nipples were already hard against your tank top, the fabric offering little barrier to the stimulation. Spencer grazed the side of your breasts with his hands, his touch both teasing and tender.Â
As his lips kissed and nuzzled your collarbones, his thumb began to circle your nipple through the thin material of your shirt. The sensation made you shiver with pleasure, and you melted further into his touch.
His leg, now firmly pressed between your thighs, rubbed gently against your inner thighs and core. The pressure of his length pressed into your hip, amplifying the heat building in you.
âPlease, take it off,â you whispered, your voice quivering with need.
âTake off what?â Spencer murmured, his face still buried in your chest, his hair brushing against your face with every movement.
âMy shirt. Please,â you pleaded, a hint of desperation in your voice.
He chuckled softly, but he didnât argue. Instead, he slid his hands lower, pushing up your top to reveal your stomach. He showered your exposed skin with soft kisses, his lips warm and affectionate against your belly.Â
As you reached for the hem of your shirt, you quickly pulled it off, tossing it aside.
âWhat happened to taking things slow?â Spencer asked, looking up at you with a teasing grin, his chin resting against your stomach.
âSorry,â you said, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
âDonât be,â he replied with a smile. âI just want to make sure you feel really good.â
âI do,â you whispered, your voice filled with need. âKeep going.â
âWhatever you say, angel,â he murmured with a soft chuckle.
With that, Spencer moved between your legs, lifting them and resting them on his shoulders. He positioned himself comfortably, and you felt the anticipation rise as his face moved closer to your core.Â
He inhaled deeply, his breath warm against your sensitive folds, making you whimper in response.
âPlease,â you begged softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
âOkay,â he said, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into you, pulling down your underwear with careful, deliberate motions. He started with a gentle kiss on your nub, his lips exploring with a tenderness that made you gasp.Â
He then trailed his kisses down to your thighs, peppering them with soft, teasing pecks. The sensation was delightful, and you giggled, placing your hand on his cheek.
He turned his mouth to your hand, kissing the inside of your palm before taking it in his hand and guiding it back to rest gently beside you. His fingers lingered, his touch warm and reassuring as he held your hand.Â
He then looked at your cunt.
âYouâre already so wet. For me?â he asked, his voice filled with both awe and desire.
âFor you? Always,â you replied, your breath hitching.
He chuckled against you, the sound and the vibration making you shiver. âDonât do that,â you said with a laugh, trying to steady your breathing.
âSorry,â he murmured with a playful tone.Â
Before you could say anything more, he gave you a long, slow lick from your entrance to the top, his tongue moving with a deliberate slowness. He stopped at your sensitive nub and began to suck gently, his mouth working with a rhythm that made you arch your back and moan in pleasure.
Spencerâs mouth was a world of sensation against you.Â
He kept going with long, languid licks, his tongue gliding from your entrance to the top of your sensitive nub. Each stroke was deliberate, exploring every inch with a careful, loving precision.Â
The warmth of his tongue, combined with the perfect pressure, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making you gasp and moan.
You felt your breath quicken as his movements became more focused.Â
He moved his tongue in quicker, teasing circles around your clit, his mouth creating a constant, delightful friction.Â
You squirmed under the intensity, your hips instinctively bucking in response.
When you no longer felt him on your clit, a desperate cry for him almost escaped your lips. But then, he gently slipped his tongue inside you, and a wave of relief and pleasure washed over you.Â
He moved with precision, his tongue exploring deeper while maintaining the steady, teasing motions that drove you wild. Each movement was deliberate, calculated to elicit the maximum pleasure from you.
His nose brushed against your folds and clit with each movement, adding an extra layer of sensation. The combination of his tongue inside you and the gentle pressure of his nose against your most sensitive spot made you tremble.Â
Your hand clutched at the sheets, your body arching toward him, seeking more.
You could feel the build-up of tension and ecstasy swelling inside you.
Through all of this, Spencer held your hand firmly in his, his fingers intertwined with yours.Â
As you felt your orgasm approaching, you squeezed his hand tightly, your fingers gripping his with a mix of desperation and pleasure.Â
Spencer responded by tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, his touch soothing and intimate amidst all the intense sensations he was creating.
With a final, expert flick of his tongue, he sent you spiraling into a powerful climax.Â
Your body tensed and then released in a wave of pleasure, your moans filling the room. Spencer continued his slow, consistent movements, savoring every moment of your release.
As the waves of pleasure began to subside, he slowly eased his mouth away, leaving soft, lingering kisses along your inner thighs.Â
His hand remained clasped with yours, and he looked into your eyes from between your thighs, his expression a mix of content and desire. âWanna keep going? We can stop if you need to.â
You shook your head, a determined glint in your eyes as you pulled yourself up and crushed into him, pressing your lips against his with an almost desperate intensity.Â
The kiss was fervent, your tongues dancing together, both urgent and consuming as you tasted yourself on his lips and on his tongue. He was covered in you.
Spencerâs hands found their way to your back, his touch warm and gentle, but firm at the same time.
Tonight felt different. It was more intense, more electric.Â
As your kiss grew deeper, you moaned into him, the sound mingling with his own soft groans of pleasure. With a deft maneuver, he turned you so that you were straddling him, his hands firmly on your hips.
âIs this okay?â he managed to ask, his voice a low rumble as he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. The effort it took to break the kiss was evident, his breaths heavy and laden with desire.
âYes,â you responded quickly, your need palpable as you crashed your lips back onto his, kissing him even harder.Â
âBaby, slow down,â Spencer said softly, though his voice was tinged with longing. âWe were meant to go slow.â
You moved your lips to his cheek and jaw, leaving a trail of kisses that were tender but laced with urgency. âI need you. I need you so bad,â you whispered against his skin, the words laced with an aching desire.
Spencer gently cupped your face, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your jawline. He guided your gaze to meet his.
âLook at me,â he said softly, his voice a gentle promise and his eyes filled with affection âIâm right here. Iâm not going anywhere. We have all night and even more.â
He leaned in and kissed you with a tenderness that contrasted the intensity of moments before.Â
âHow do you do it?â you asked breathlessly, your curiosity blending with the haze of desire. You wondered, as you looked into his eyes, how he managed to maintain such control over himself amidst all the passion.
âWhat?â Spencerâs voice was a mixture of confusion and intrigue.
âStop yourself,â you clarified, your voice barely above a whisper. âHow do you manage to hold back?â
Spencerâs eyes softened, and he gave you a reassuring smile. âItâs not about holding back,â he said, his voice calm and sincere. âItâs about making sure you feel good. I want this to be perfect for you, for us, every time. Thatâs what matters.â
His words stirred something deep within you, and you were hit by a wave of warmth and appreciation. As he leaned in to kiss you again, the tender, loving nature of his touch gave you goosebumps.
âCan we fuck now?â you asked, your voice husky with need.
Spencer looked at you with a warm, eager smile. âYes. Yes, we can,â
You gave his cock a few teasing strokes, feeling the way he reacted, his breath hitching as he moaned softly into your shoulder. You slowly guided him to your entrance.Â
The sensation of him pressing against you was both thrilling and comforting, a familiar solace you will never get tired of and always makes your world shudder.
With a gentle, deliberate motion, you positioned him at your core, and you slowly lowered yourself onto him.Â
The gradual stretch and the way he filled you completely was exquisite, causing you both to moan into each otherâs mouths softly.Â
You took your time, savoring each inch, feeling every subtle shift and movement.
Spencerâs hands were steady on your hips, guiding and supporting you as you adjusted to his size. His breaths were heavy, matching the rhythm of your movements.Â
The room was filled with only the sound of your shared pleasure, a mix of gasps and moans.
As you slowly rode him, the rhythm of your movements became more synchronized, each motion building both of you up to the peak.Â
Spencerâs hands were not idle - he moved with purpose, his touch exploring every inch of your body with a deep, loving attentiveness.
One hand continued to support you around your lower back, while the other trailed up to your breasts. His fingers began to play with your nipples, gently pinching and rolling them as you moved.Â
That was one thing you had confessed to him during one of your intimate conversations, and Spencer had clearly taken it to heart. You had shared with him how much you loved when he played with your breasts, revealing, a bit embarrassed, the deep pleasure it brought you.
âHow does that feel?â he asked in between the kisses he left on your neck, his voice a husky whisper against your skin.
âFuck,â was all you managed to say, a breathless gasp that made him chuckle, his eyes gleaming with amusement and desire.
He massaged your breasts tenderly, his fingers moving with a practiced ease, adjusting his touch to match the rhythm of your thrusts. His lips covered every inch of your neck and shoulders, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.
The combination of his hands on your breasts, the feeling of him inside you, and his lips on your skin was overwhelming. Your body responded instinctively, arching into his touch, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
Spencerâs breath came in ragged gasps, his groans of pleasure mingling with yours. His hands worked skillfully, keeping your nipples sensitive and aroused as your movements became more frantic and desperate. Then his eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of concentration and passion evident in his gaze.
While you stared into his brown eyes, he finally teased your nipple with a light lick of his tongue.Â
You almost screamed.Â
He started kissing it while his other hand worked on your other breast, his mouth hot and insistent. His tongue traced circles around your hard peak, sending shivers down your spine, while his slim fingers squeezed the other one.
At that point, you screamed into his ear, unable to contain the intensity of your pleasure.
âSorry,â you whispered, your voice a trembling apology.
âItâs okay. Youâre so beautiful,â he replied, his eyes softening with affection as he looked at you, his hands never ceasing their tender ministrations. His words and touch combined, making you feel cherished and desired in every way and that made your heart swell.
His lips returned to your other nipple, sucking and teasing it with more insistence now.
Finally, the pressure inside you reached its peak.Â
With a gasp and a shudder, you came, the wave of ecstasy crashing over you while his lips stayed on your breasts peppering them with kisses.
Your body tensed and then relaxed as you rode out the climax, your moans filling the room. Spencer continued to stroke your breasts gently, his touch both soothing and stimulating as he guided you through the final throes of your orgasm.
As you slowly came down from the high, you leaned your head against his, your fingers gently threading through his hair, the other arm wrapped around his neck. He held you close, his hands now lingering on your back with a soft, affectionate touch.Â
He squeezed you tightly, turning his face to kiss your neck, which elicited one more moan from your lips.Â
You could feel him smiling against your skin as he squeezed you tightly one more time.
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