#like. sometimes you like feeling the weight of it in your stomach. that it's in there

[willowisdead345]

post about l4x4tive safety!!

Disclaimer: this is an educational post meant to encourage people to atleast be safe if they decide to use this type of meds, like many with 3ds do. I’m not encouraging the use of l4x4tives, but if someone will use them regardless, I’d rather educate them about safety.

L4x4tives will NOT MAKE YOU LOSE WEIGHT. They won’t. They don’t remove calories of fat or anything like that. They might make you lose weight due to the fact that you have less feces inside you, but they will not remove fat or calories or anything except waste and water. They won’t make you lose weight, so do NOT take them for that purpose. 

This is looong but necessary if this applies to you

Don’t use l4x4tives, but if you will anyways, use l4x4tives responsibly! Don’t abuse them, be safe. There are 2 main types of l4x4tives, this post will handle them separately. They are “bulk-forming” and “stimulating” and function differently

Why use them then? A diet deficient in fiber might make you constipated, that’s just the truth. And a highly restricted diet is often deficient in fiber. 3ds and constipation go hand in hand often, so using medicine to help you yk pass waste after weeks of stomach pain from not doing so is sometimes a good idea.

Natural alternatives include either dried plums/plum puree, or making sure you get enough fiber in your diet. And maybe you are lucky and manage to keep regular without anything, then definitely DON'T experiment with pharmaceuticals.

DO NOT USE ALL TYPES OF L4X4TIVES though, please read this post and try to use bulk forming l4x4tives, they are safer. They “bulk up” what is inside you and makes it easier for stuff to come out, because well… there is more to push. They are less bad for your body in the way that they don’t stimulate the muscles of your bowel, and just naturally make you use the bathroom. They don’t have the same risk of your bowel relying on them like stimulating l4x4tives (where the bowel might stop working naturally due to overreliance on stimulating l4x4tives). Google any l4x to see which “type” it is, and try to stay away from stimulating ones if you truly feel like you need to use them. 

Stimulating l4x4tives are the other category, they are things that work by stimulating the muscles of your intestines and force stuff to come out by doing that. They carry the risk of causing dependance, since they might make it impossible to pass anything without using them if your bowel gets too accustomed to them. They are recommended to be used for severe constipation, once and not eaten continuously. They are more “powerful” and often work faster, but they are also more dangerous.

Safety tips for stimulating l4x4ives:

FOLLOW DOSAGE RECOMMENDATIONS. Do NOT fcking 0d on them. The dosing recommendations are found online or in the packet. Don’t go over them. Just do not, the recommendations are there for a reason.

NOT EVERY DAY!! Every 3 days is still considered a healthy interval for bowel movements, so aim for that, and if possible without too much discomfort, maybe once a week is fine (for me personally, I aim for once a week since it’s not too uncomfortable to wait)

DON’T OVER RELY ON THEM!! Try to use bulk-forming l4x4tives, try to use natural alternatives like eating more fiber, try anything else. Stimulating l4x are not good to rely on blindly, because at some point you’ll need them and your bowel just won’t function without them.

I could link some sources but they are all in Finnish, but if there are any questions, anything at all, feel free to ask, I’ll be glad to answer! Or try doing your own research, I’d recommend making sure you know the risks of the specific one.

[baeksqt]

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 — alexia putellas

alexia putellas x barcelona!reader

a/n: fun fact, I had actually cut the whole piece part in half, due to me feeling like it was getting long winded but also adding like 2000 more words cause I didn't like how I ended it ijbol, but it seems like you guys enjoyed it so here’s the rest of it \(^ヮ^)/

word count: 4164

genre: somewhat fluff with angsty tendencies

tw: emotional cheating

now playing: swim by renee rapp

part one

summary: trying to keep your heart in check, but alexia's charm finally slipped through the cracks

You were determined to put everything behind you. Arriving to training early, hoping that focusing on football would clear your head. Going through your routine with extra intensity, pushing yourself harder than usual, letting the rhythm of drills drown out the noise in your mind. 

But then Alexia arrived.

She walked onto the pitch with that effortless confidence, her hair tied back in a high ponytail, her sharp eyes scanning the field before landing on you. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Someone’s eager today,” the footballer called out as she jogged over, her confident stride matching the lively rhythm of the drill. In a swift motion, she fell into step beside you, her foot deftly stealing the ball from your control.

“Just trying to stay sharp,” you replied, forcing a casual shrug to mask the competitive spark within. With determination, you lunged forward, tackling the ball back into your possession.

Alexia’s gaze lingered on you, a thoughtful smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Good. I like that about you,” she remarked, her voice warm and encouraging.

You rolled your eyes, a playful grin breaking through your facade. “You like winning. And I help with that,” you shot back, a teasing edge in your tone as you both relished the friendly rivalry.

“True.  But I like a lot of things.”

You ignored the way that made your stomach twist and focused on the drill as Coach Romeu blew the whistle.

As training wrapped up, the team broke into groups, chatting and joking while stretching on the sidelines. You sat on the grass, taking light sips of your water when Mapi and Ingrid flopped down next to you. 

“You and Alexia seem to be getting along well,” Mapi teased, nudging you with her knee, “she’s been glued to your side lately.”

You maintained a calm and composed expression, letting no emotion escape as you replied, “She’s the captain. It’s her responsibility to ensure we feel at ease.” 

Ingrid leaned back, a smirk dancing across her lips, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Sure, but that’s not the impression she’s giving off,” she quipped, an eyebrow raised as if challenging your words.

You shook your head, a light laugh escaping your lips, dismissing their concerns. “You two are overanalysing the situation,” you said, trying to inject a sense of levity into the conversation.

But you could feel Alexia’s eyes on you from across the field.

After training, you ducked into the locker room early, hoping to avoid another one-on-one with Alexia. Moving quickly, you shoved your gear into your bag when you heard the familiar voice behind her. 

“Leaving so soon?”

You closed your eyes briefly before turning around. “Yeah, I’ve got things to do.”

“You’re always running off. What’s the rush?” Alexia leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, watching you with that same easy confidence.

You met her gaze once more. “Just…life outside football, you know?”

“You never really talk about it.”

“Not much to tell.” You shot back.

You felt the weight of the words. It wasn’t an accusation, but it sure felt like one. “You should let me take you out sometime. Show you what Barcelona is really like. Madrid has nothing compared to here.” The blonde suggested.

Your breath caught in your throat. There it was, undeniable, unmistakable. And for a brief moment, the idea of saying yes flickered in your mind. But Lucia’s face surfaced in your thoughts, and reality came crashing down.

“I…” you started, shaking your head, “I don’t really have time for that.”

Alexia studied you for a moment, as if searching for something beneath the polite refusal. Finally, she nodded, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. 

“Alright. But if you change your mind—” 

You found yourself cutting her off, the words spilling out before you could think them through. “—walk with me?” The request left your lips almost involuntarily, and you could hear the uncertainty in your own voice. You weren’t certain why you had asked; perhaps it was a longing for connection, or maybe a desperate attempt to ease the tension that hung between you like a heavy fog.

For a moment, you studied Alexia's face, noticing the flicker of hesitation that crossed her features. Time seemed to stretch as she weighed her options, the silence stretching uncomfortably. Finally, she nodded, the expression in her eyes shifting to one of reluctant agreement. “Yeah, alright.” The softness in her voice suggested a mixture of curiosity and caution, and you could feel a small rush of hope at her response.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over Barcelona, the streets settled into a serene ambience. The gentle murmur of conversations floated through the air as clusters of people began filtering out of offices, their footsteps echoing softly on the cobblestone pathways. An air of tranquillity enveloped the evening, punctuated only by the distant laughter from a nearby café. 

At this moment, the silence between you and Alexia felt comfortable at first, familiar like an old song. Yet, you couldn't shake the unsettling awareness of her gaze lingering on you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could sense her curiosity, her expression a blend of contemplation and intrigue amidst the fading light.

Eventually, she broke it. “You don’t have to tell me everything, you know. But…you can talk to me.”

You swallowed hard, the action sending a ripple of tension through your throat. Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag, a familiar habit when you felt exposed or vulnerable. Alexia stood before you, her eyes searching—probing deeper, trying to penetrate the thick walls you’d built around your heart. For a fleeting moment, you felt a flicker of temptation to let her in, to lower your defences and share the weight you carried.

But then, like a shadow creeping in, the image of Lucia flashed in your mind. You felt warmth spread through your chest as you remembered her infectious smile—bright and genuine, the kind that could melt the heaviest of hearts. You recalled the sound of her laughter, light and carefree, resonating like music in your soul. Lucia had always been your anchor, offering unwavering love and support without hesitation, regardless of the storms you encountered.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I appreciate it.” The sincerity of your words felt like a fragile bridge between you and Alexia, one that you weren’t sure you wanted to cross.

Alexia nodded slowly, her expression a blend of concern and understanding, unreadable like a closed book. “Alright. Just…don’t keep yourself locked up too tight, chica.” Her tone was gentle yet firm, as if she was trying to impart wisdom born from her own experiences. As you turned to part ways, you felt the weight of her words settle deep in your chest, resonating like a long-forgotten melody.

You were left grappling with the meaning behind her statement. Was it a warning—an acknowledgement of the danger in isolation—or perhaps an invitation to open up, to let someone in amidst the chaos? Maybe it was a combination of both, a call to find balance in a world that had often felt too heavy to bear alone.

Later that night, Lucia’s messages were waiting for you, but you hesitated before picking it up.

You typed out a quick message: Hey, sorry, it’s been a long day. Miss you.

Almost immediately, your girlfriend replied: I miss you too. Are you okay?

Staring at the blinking cursor, you paused. You could tell Lucia. You should tell Lucia, about Alexia, about the way things were starting to feel…complicated. But what would you even say?

Instead, you typed: Yeah. Just tired.

You told yourself that you weren’t doing anything wrong. It was just training. Just football. Just Alexia being Alexia. 

But the truth was, you felt yourself softening. It was in the little things. The way you didn’t always pull away when Alexia got too close, the way you found yourself looking forward to the moments alone after training, the way your heart didn’t hammer in panic anymore when she teased you. Instead, it did something worse. It fluttered.

It wasn’t like you meant to let it happen. It just…did.

After another late training session, Alexia caught up with you outside the locker room. The sun setting over the stadium, casting long shadows across the field, and you were in no hurry to leave. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s grab something to eat.” Alexia nudged your arm, matching your slow pace. You wavered, but this time, it wasn’t immediate. The excuses that usually came so easily, I have things to do, I should call Lucia, I should keep my distance, felt weaker. “Okay,” you said before you could overthink it. Just dinner, nothing more.

Sitting across from Alexia in a quiet little cafe tucked away in the heart of Barcelona, you felt yourself relaxing in a way you hadn’t expected. Talking about football, about music, about the things you missed from home. You had laughed more than you had in weeks, and for a little while, you forgot about the gnawing guilt in your chest.

“You’re different when you’re off the pitch,” Alexia observed at one point, watching you closely, sitting opposite you. 

“What do you mean?” You blinked.

Alexia shrugged. “You seem…lighter. Less guarded.” 

“I guess I just focus a lot when we’re training.” You felt your stomach twist.

The footballer leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “Yeah, but you don’t have to do that with me, you know.” she poured herself water from the ceramic jug. “So, who’s the mysterious someone?”

“It’s nothing,” You stumbled over your words, heart stuttering. “Nobody, even.”

And at that moment, you thought about Lucia, About how easy things used to be. About how complicated they felt now. Alexia didn’t press, just smiled and changed the subject, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Alexia was waiting—for something, for her.

And you were starting to wonder if you were waiting too.

Later that night, you lay on your sofa, barely focused on the telenovela playing on your TV. Your phone buzzed in your hand, Lucia. You hesitated before picking it up. 

“Hey,” you said softly.

“Hey,” Lucia’s voice was warm and familiar, but you felt an ache deep in your chest at how far away it sounded. “I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

You closed your eyes. “Never.”

Lucia laughed softly. “You okay? You’ve been quiet lately.”

“Yeah, just…training’s been a lot.” You bit your lip. It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the full truth either.

“I get it,” Lucia said gently. “I miss you though.”

“I miss you too,” you whispered, but even as you said it, you couldn’t shake the memory of Alexia’s smile from your mind.

You woke up the next morning with a heavy weight in your chest. The events of the past few days played over and over in your head as you stared at the ceiling. Alexia’s teasing words, the way she lingered too close, the way you let it happen.

It had to stop.

You couldn’t keep toeing this delicate line, couldn’t continue to disguise the reality of your feelings. The gentle cadence of Lucia’s voice lingered in your mind, a soft and warm reminder from last night’s call: “I miss you.” You had echoed her sentiment in return, yet an unsettling doubt had begun to creep in; did you truly mean it the same way anymore? The mere contemplation of that question sent a shiver of dread coursing through you.

As you pulled into the parking lot for training, resolve washed over you like a tide. You knew what you needed: distance. A break from Alexia. A breath away from whatever confusing emotions were brewing between you and her. The weight of your decision felt both heavy and liberating, a beacon guiding you toward a clearer path in the midst of the emotional fog.

Alexia noticed immediately. During passing drills, you were efficient and precise—but distant. No small smiles, no stolen glances, no playful banter. Just football. At first, she brushed it off, assuming you were just having an off day. But as training went it, it became impossible to ignore. When she tried to nudge your shoulder during water breaks, you shifted away. When she joked with you after a goal, you only nodded stiffly and jogged back to position.

By the end of the session, Alexia was frowning, watching you grab your things from the locker without so much as a word. “Chica,” Alexia called out, catching up to you just outside the stadium, “what’s going on?” 

You kept your eyes on the pavement. “Nothing. Just tired.”

Alexia studied you, unconvinced. “Come on. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Your jaw tightened.

“Shut me out,” Alexia said delicately. “Did I do something?”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet Alexia’s gaze, and for a moment, you felt that same familiar pull, the one you’d been trying so hard to ignore. But you couldn’t let herself fall into it again. 

“We’re teammates, Alexia,” you said, your voice carefully measured. “That’s all this is. And I think we should keep it that way.”

Something flickered in the footballer’s eyes. Surprise, disappointment, something else that you couldn’t name.

“You don’t really believe that.” Alexia scoffed.

You tightened your fists at your sides, a fierce burn igniting behind your ribs as adrenaline coursed through you. “I do.” Alexia's gaze bored into yours, searching your expression with an intensity that felt almost tangible, as if she was peeling back layers to discern whether you were hiding the truth. Perhaps you were—just a sliver of it.

“Alright,” she finally relented, stepping back, the distance between you feeling monumental. “If that’s what you truly want.”

You nodded, the sharp edge of resolve mingling with a piercing sting in your chest that deepened with every passing moment. Turning away, you felt the weight of each step press down upon you, dragging your heart along with it. But just as the space between you widened, Alexia's voice cut through the air, softer now, tinged with what seemed like regret. “You know,” she said, her words lingering like an echo in the silence, “you can run from this all you want. But it won’t change how you feel.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a lump forming as you fought the urge to turn back. Instead, you continued moving forward, each footfall heavy and deliberate, with the sensation of an invisible anchor pulling you down.

You thought that putting distance between you and Alexia would make things easier.

It didn’t.

Lucia’s messages became more frequent, and you would respond quickly, forcing yourself to engage, to remind yourself where you belonged. You told her you loved her, that you missed her, and tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest when you said it. 

But despite your best efforts, Alexia was always there.

Days passed, then weeks, and the tension only grew. Alexia didn’t push anymore, no teasing remarks, no lingering looks, no casual touches that sent your heart into overdrive. She respected your decision, and that should have made you feel relieved. Instead, it felt worse. Because now, Alexia was cold too. She was still kind, still professional, but she didn’t seek you out like she used to. During drills, she passed the ball to you with the same precision as always, but without the usual grin that came with it. In the locker room, she sat with the others, laughing and chatting, but never near you.

It was exactly what you wanted. So why did it feel like a loss?

One night, you called Lucia. The moment you heard her voice, warm and full of love, you felt a pang of guilt.

“Hey, you,” Lucia started gently. “I was hoping you’d call earlier.”

You smiled faintly. “Yeah, training ran late.” The excuse you would repeat to her constantly in the past was now a reason.

“You’re always working so hard,” Lucia murmured. “I wish I could be there with you.”

You closed your eyes, the familiar ache settling in. “Me too.”

But even as you said it, your mind drifted, to the way Alexia had looked at her earlier, an unreadable expression in her eyes when you crossed paths in the gym. The way you had felt that pull again, despite everything.

“Are you okay?” Lucia asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

You swallowed. “Yeah. Just tired.”

A pause. Then, softly, “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know.” You nodded even though Lucia couldn’t see you.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The following day, you avoided Alexia all morning, keeping to yourself, focusing on your drills, and when training ended, you planned to slip away quickly. But as you turned the corner towards the locker room, almost colliding with the blonde.

“Whoa,” Alexia breathed, her fingers wrapping around your arm with surprising urgency just as you were about to retreat. “In a hurry to get away?”

Your heart pounded in your chest at her touch, a jolt of electricity racing through you, but you fought to keep your expression steady. “Yeah, I just need to—”

“Talk to me?” Alexia cut in, her grip softening but still lingering as if reluctant to let you go. “Because I honestly think we should.”

Her tone shifted, turning serious as she leaned in slightly, the playful atmosphere fading. “Listen, I get it. You’ve got someone in your life, and I respect that. But it feels like you’re trying to push me away as if I don’t even matter.”

“I’m not trying to—” Guilt clawed at your throat, the weight of her words sinking in.

“You are,” she asserted, crossing her arms tightly and leaning against the doorframe, her posture radiating both defiance and vulnerability. “You've been avoiding me, and it shows. But if this is the way you want it, I won’t fight back. I just want you to be honest—with me and with yourself.”

“What do you want me to say, Alexia? I am being honest. I’m with Lucia, and I don’t want to jeopardize that,” you shot back, the frustration bubbling over as you met her gaze, the intensity causing you to realize only then that you had said Lucia's name out loud.

Alexia’s expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I hope she’s worth it,” she said sharply, pushing off the doorframe and creating a palpable distance between you. The tension in the air thickened like a storm on the horizon.

And just like that, she was gone, leaving you staring at the empty space where she stood.

You hadn’t meant to miss training. 

The first day, you told yourself you just needed a break, one morning to clear your head. But then one day turned into two, and then three, and by the time the fourth day rolled around, you couldn’t face the idea of walking back onto the pitch and pretending everything was fine.

Your phone buzzed constantly with messages from the team, from Mapi, Ingrid, and even coach Romeu. But you ignored them all. Except for one.

Alexia: Where are you? You okay?

Simple. Direct. No teasing, no pressure. 

You stared at the message a little while longer before locking your phone and curling deeper into the sofa. You didn’t know how to answer, you barely knew what you wanted anymore.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the streets of Barcelona as the evening chill settled in. Alexia stood outside your apartment door, her breath forming small clouds in the crisp air. She raised her hand and knocked with a delicate yet firm knock once, then twice. Silence enveloped her, save for the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Just as she lifted her hand to knock again, the door creaked open a fraction, revealing you on the other side. The faint light illuminated your face, highlighting the deep shadows under your tired eyes, a testament to sleepless nights. You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sight of her. “What are you doing here?” you murmured, the words barely escaping your lips as surprise washed over you.

Alexia crossed her arms. “You weren’t answering your phone. And you’ve missed training.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “I just…needed some time.”

“Can I come in?” Alexia softened.

You paused, the weight of indecision settling in your chest, before reluctantly stepping aside. Alexia entered the room, her gaze sweeping over the shadowy expanse of the apartment. The soft glow of the single light bulb illuminated the chaos, a tangle of cosy, crumpled blankets draped carelessly over the sofa as if they had been cast aside in a moment of weariness. Scattered around the coffee table were an assortment of half-eaten takeout containers, remnants of forgotten meals that spoke to long nights and untamed hunger. An unmistakable sense of fatigue lingered in the air, wrapping around the room like a heavy blanket, amplifying the atmosphere of exhaustion that hung in every corner.

“Do you want to me what’s going on?” Alexia asked softly as she perched on the armrest of the worn sofa, her presence both comforting and disarming. You couldn't quite fathom why she continued to show you such kindness despite the way you had been acting over the past few months. As you sank deeper into the plush cushions, a heavy sigh escaped your lips, a mix of frustration and resignation. “I’ve been feeling… off,” you confessed, searching for the right words. “I thought maybe taking some time for myself would help clear my head.”

Alexia tilted her head, studying you. “And? Has it?”

You wavered before shaking your head. “No. Not really.”

There was a beat of silence before Alexia leaned forward, her tone soft but firm. “Come with me.”

“What?” You frowned.

“You need to get out of here,” Alexia said, standing up and offering a hand. “You need a distraction. You still haven’t taken up my offer to show you around Barcelona, remember?”

You stared at Alexia’s outstretched hand. You know you should say no. You should tell her to leave and call Lucia instead. However, you found yourself nodding slowly, placing your hand in Alexia’s.

“Okay,” you mumbled, “give me 10 minutes.”

Alexia smiled, giving your fingers a small squeeze before pulling you up. “I know just the place.”

The city was alive this evening, bustling with tourists and locals alike. Alexia took you through winding streets of the Gothic Quarter, stopping at hidden cafes and scenic overlooks with the ease of someone who had grown up here. 

You walked along the beach, the waves lapping softly at the shore, and you found yourself breathing easier for the first time in days. 

“So,” Alexia said, kicking at the sand lightly. “Feeling better?”

You glanced at her, a small smile tugging at your lips, “Yeah. I am.”

“Told you I was good at distractions.” the Spaniard grinned.

You playfully rolled your eyes, but for once, you didn’t feel the usual resistance tugging at your chest. As you both made your way back through the narrow streets, Alexia suddenly stopped in front of a small gelato shop. “Okay, this place? Best in the city.” 

You chuckled. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true,” Alexia shot back, dragging you inside.

You sat outside with your gelato, the city lights twinkling around you, as you sat on the cobblestone street, you took in the scent of flowers in the distance.

“You’re different tonight,” Alexia watched you carefully. “In a good way.”

You exhaled, staring down at your half-eaten gelato. “I think I just got tired of fighting it.”

Alexia’s eyes softened. “Fighting what?”

You met her gaze, and for the first time in weeks, you didn’t look away. “You.”

The air between you shifted, heavy and electric. Alexia set her spoon down and leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “Cariña…”

Before you could fully process the moment, you stepped closer, bridging the gap that had kept you apart. With a tender urgency, your lips found Alexia’s in a soft, tentative kiss, a gentle exploration tinged with a hint of watermelon sweetness lingering on her lips. The initial uncertainty quickly melted away as Alexia began to respond, awakening something deep within you that had been tightly wound and yearning to be released. When you finally broke the kiss, the world around you seemed to pause, and Alexia leaned into you, resting her head against your shoulder. A soft, breathless laugh escaped her lips, light and airy, as if the weight of unspoken words had lifted. “So…does this mean you’re finally done running?” she asked, her voice a teasing whisper enveloped in warmth.

You smiled, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. “Yeah, I think I am.”

And for the first time, you didn’t feel guilty.

[star2fishmeg]

congrats on your milestone!! so so very happy for you.

could I request a scenario # 127 with Jack 🫠 your most recent fic has me needy for him.

Thank you for requesting <3

SCENARIO #127 Situationship/fwb but it's unrequited feelings

📞 dialling…

“Why are you so upset about this?” y/n stormed down the bar’s empty hallway, past the bathrooms into an empty space at the end where nothing stood but the janitor’s closet, away from the crowds and ears. She spun on her heel to face Jack, brows furrowed and gaze glaring daggers at his pleading eyes. He had followed her like a puppy the whole way, running his hand through his hair and over his stubble.

When they came to a halt, he kept his distance, hands on the back of his nape and wishing he could reverse the clock and stop himself completely, from the beginning before he started crumbling. 

“Because I know he’s only sweet talking you for his own benefit, he couldn’t care less about you!” he babbled in a panic, something in his chest pulling and aching.

“And what gives you the right to decide who I talk to?” y/n spat, folding her arms and shifting her weight onto one hip, breathing heavy. Jack had never been this protective before, in fact, he’d never shown any feelings towards her social life like that. It was eating at him, she could see it in his face, the sweat on his forehead, the vein popping on his neck.  

“Nothing! I know! But I care about you, y/n, you’re my friend and-” he yelled, hands running over his face, one settling on his hip with the other continued to stroke his stubble. 

She stepped closer, aggressively poking at his chest and raising her own voice back at him, tears pricking at her eyes, but she choked them back. “-What makes him so different from you, huh? You’re my friend and you’re also fucking me. What’s the difference with him wanting the same?”

He wished she was wrong. He wished he could tell her she was wrong but months ago he had approached her the same. Just two friends with no strings going to each other for sex with one rule: no attachments. But Jack biggest problem was that he did care about her deeply, the more they hung out, the closer they became, and it sucked. It sucked how fond he was of her, and he knew she was fond of him too but the scale they stood on was unbalanced. 

He exhaled, breathing in for five seconds and out for five, sniffing and sliding his hands into his pockets. No arguments, no bad blood, he couldn’t risk the loss. Especially when it was y/n, she was too precious to him and sometimes he wished he’d never brought up their situation in the first place.

“Because…” he lowered his voice, pausing and shaking his head lightly. “I…I…it doesn’t matter. You’re right.” 

He took one glance into her eyes, his own glossed over as his lips pulled into a straight line. Turning to leave, his eyes stung, stomach twisting horrifically and tuning out everything around him. 

“J, wait,” she called out softly, fingers gripping his bicep. Jack’s heart cried, ‘let go, just fucking let me go’ yet the words never fell from his mouth. But she muttered for only him to hear her, “talk to me. We’re still friends.”

Y/n was beautiful. Always had been since the day he met her. Beaming smile, eyes he loved to look for, perfume he could never forget, a laugh like a melody, a humour that only he could keep up with, she was just beautiful. But she wasn’t his. And she never would be his. 

Jack wet his lips, avoiding her gaze in fear of falling under her spell, “Yeah, sorry…it’s just, uh, one of Quinn’s friends used to date him and one day he just…left, told her that used goods weren’t as, uh, valuable as fresh good, all that shit. I just don’t want him hurting you.” 

Silence fell between them, her thumb rubbing his skin with a gentle touch that felt like she had grabbed his heart and ripped it from his chest entirely. Feeling his jaw falter open was a humbling feeling, especially when the words he wanted to say were the most forbidden words anyone in their arrangement could say. It was so embarrassing, the confident Jack Hughes sabotaging himself.

“Sorry for yelling at you, I wish you’d just told me.” Y/n weakly smiled, appreciation finally processing and the worst thoughts that he could be in love with her fading. That. The dread of Jack being in love with her. She wasn’t ready to bear that weight just yet, she didn’t know what she wanted but she knew she was content with where they were at. Perhaps there could be a chance, but not then.

[luckymilkshakerebel]

Unspoken Love: Minho's Tender Care After Our Loss

Genre: comfort, strengthen the bond, miscarriage mention, foster connection

Cast: Lee know (minho) stray kids x female reader

---

The air in the house was heavy with silence, the kind that pressed down on your chest and made it hard to breathe. It had been days since the miscarriage, but the pain still lingered, sharp and relentless. You hadn’t spoken much since it happened, retreating into yourself while Minho, your husband, quietly stood by, giving you space but never leaving your side.

He was your anchor in the storm. You didn’t know how he managed to stay so calm and steady, but you were grateful for him. You didn’t have the energy to speak most of the time, but Minho didn’t seem to mind. He was there, always there, making sure you ate, making sure you rested, and just holding you when the sadness became too much to bear.

But today felt different. Something was wrong—more wrong than usual.

You woke up feeling sore, your chest heavy and uncomfortable. At first, you thought it was just part of the physical recovery process, but as the day went on, the ache in your breasts grew worse. By the time the afternoon sunlight was streaming through the living room window, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

You sat on the couch, staring at your hands and trying to make sense of the discomfort. Your body felt foreign to you, like it didn’t belong. The ache in your chest wasn’t just physical—it was emotional too, a cruel reminder of what you had lost.

Minho walked into the room, his footsteps soft on the hardwood floor. He had a knack for sensing when you needed him, as if he could feel your emotions without you saying a word.

“Hey,” he said gently, sitting down beside you. “How are you feeling?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Minho reached out, his warm hand covering yours. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, glancing down at your lap. “My chest hurts,” you said quietly. “I don’t know why.”

His brow furrowed, concern flickering across his face. “Hurts how? Like... sore?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s been getting worse all day.”

Minho was silent for a moment, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Have you checked?”

You shook your head, a wave of guilt washing over you. You hadn’t wanted to deal with your body—hadn’t wanted to face what it was going through.

“Let me help,” Minho said softly.

You looked up at him, uncertainty flickering in your eyes. “Help how?”

“I can take a look,” he offered. “Just to make sure everything’s okay. If it’s too much, you can tell me to stop.”

His voice was calm, steady, and full of reassurance. You trusted him completely, and though the thought of being so vulnerable made your stomach twist, you knew he only wanted to help.

“Okay,” you whispered.

Minho gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before helping you up from the couch and guiding you to the bedroom. He grabbed a couple of pillows, arranging them behind you so you could sit comfortably on the bed.

“Just tell me if anything hurts or if you want me to stop,” he said, his voice gentle.

You nodded, your heart pounding as you lifted your shirt. The ache in your chest was sharper now, and when Minho gently touched your breast, you winced.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his brow furrowing as he examined you. “It feels like...” He trailed off, his expression shifting as realization dawned on him.

“What?” you asked, panic creeping into your voice.

“I think your milk is coming in,” he said softly.

You stared at him, your mind racing. “What? How? That doesn’t make sense.”

Minho sat back slightly, his hand resting on your knee. “It happens sometimes,” he explained. “Your body doesn’t realize yet... about the baby. It’s just doing what it thinks it’s supposed to do.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your body didn’t realize. It didn’t know. The tears came without warning, spilling down your cheeks as the weight of it all crashed over you.

Minho immediately reached for you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry, love.”

You clung to him, your sobs muffled against his chest. The grief was overwhelming, the pain too much to bear. Minho held you tightly, his hand running up and down your back in soothing strokes.

When your tears finally subsided, you pulled back slightly, wiping at your face. “What do I do?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“We’ll figure it out,” Minho said, his tone full of quiet determination. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

You nodded, trusting him to guide you through this.

“First,” he said, “we need to relieve the pressure. It’ll help with the pain.”

You glanced at him, unsure. “How?”

He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I can help,” he said gently. “Manually. If you’re okay with it.”

The thought made your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but you knew Minho wasn’t suggesting it lightly. He just wanted to help, to ease your discomfort in any way he could.

“Okay,” you said quietly.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile and grabbed a clean towel from the bathroom, placing it nearby. He sat down beside you, his touch careful and deliberate as he began.

At first, the sensation was strange—unfamiliar and slightly uncomfortable—but as the pressure in your chest started to ease, relief washed over you.

“Is that better?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Yes,” you whispered, tears welling up again. “Thank you.”

Minho paused, his thumb brushing away one of your tears. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “I’m here for you. Always.”

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the occasional sniffle. Minho worked slowly, his focus entirely on making sure you were comfortable.

As the physical relief spread through your chest, the emotional weight of the situation hit you all over again. Tears slipped down your cheeks, unbidden, and Minho immediately noticed.

“Hey,” he said gently, his hand coming to rest on your arm. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just... everything,” you said, your voice breaking. “I feel so broken, Minho.”

His expression softened, and he pulled you into his arms once again. “You’re not broken,” he said firmly. “You’re grieving. Your body is trying to heal, and that’s not something you can control. But you’re not broken, love. You’re stronger than you know.”

You clung to him, his words sinking into your heart. It didn’t erase the pain, but it made it feel a little less heavy, knowing he was there to carry it with you.

When he finished helping you, he cleaned his hands and sat back against the headboard, pulling you into his lap. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said softly.

“You’ll never have to find out,” Minho replied, his hand gently running through your hair.

The grief was still there, a quiet ache that would take time to heal. But in that moment, wrapped in Minho’s arms, you felt a flicker of hope. With him by your side, you knew you could face whatever came next.

Want to read more you can go to my MASTERLIST

[nightlyrequiem]

Apples, Oranges, and Other Small Fruits

Valeria shows you just how attractive she finds you and your small chest.

╰┈➤ Do you have small boobs? Does it make you feel like less of a woman? Well, me too. I actually start tweaking because of it sometimes. My tits literally disappear when I take off my bra and turn to the side and it drives me mental. Gaining weight doesn't even help because at my heaviest my bra size never went above an A cup.

w.c- 1,816

Tags/Warning: WLW, Fem!Reader, Small chested reader (I'm talking pretty flat.), Self-Esteem Issues, Unhealthy Body Image, Reader Has Some Body Description, Smut, Use of a Dildo, TITTY SUCKING RAHHHH

🍎🍊🍋🍎🥝🥝🍎🍋🍊🍎

You stare into the mirror and feel disheartened at what stares back. You bought this beautiful red dress. With a neckline that dips playfully and a slit up the side of it. How excited you were to have it and wear it. However now that you're seeing yourself in it... you're disappointed. Upset. It's completely unflattering. Flattening what little curves you had left. You turn to the side and feel a heavy pit in your stomach. Going braless was a mistake because your boobs are nothing more than barely perceivable lumps. Not to mention the dress isn't entirely form fitting and turns you into a box. You feel like a little kid playing dress up in mommy's clothes.

Another beautiful piece of clothing that looks cheap and stupid on you. In a fit of anger, you rip the dress off of your body and throw it across the room. You look back at your almost fully nude form. Looking at your body with disgust and hatred. Embarrassed by the sight of yourself. You look like a boy. Thin and gangly, soft in all the wrong places.

You think of your partner, Valeria. It's hard not to compare yourself to her when you see her everyday. You always chalked up your small assets to your thinner disposition. The idea that you could only have one or the other brought you the illusion of comfort, but you'd always be reminded that it isn't true. You tried body positivity, but that never worked. Being told fancier clothes and dresses fit better on smaller chested girls only frustrated you, because you found you never looked good in them. Unless you put on a pushup bra, and even then, it was a difficult task finding one small enough to fit into. You always hear about more well-endowed girls struggling to find bras that fit but you also struggle. The stores you go to often don't have bras small enough for you - unless they're sports bras.

You give yourself a long hard stare. As though by willing it enough, your mosquito bites will grow. They don't, and you can't stand to look at yourself any longer. You angrily shut the bathroom lights off and walk into the bedroom. The carpet soft under your feet. The long, elegant curtains are closed, hiding the room from the night-darkened world outside. They flutter in the cool breeze from the cracked open window.

The bedsheets are welcomingly cool when you lay under them. Pulling them over your body to hide yourself from the world. It's not always this bad. But sometimes you're stronger than your insecurity.

It doesn't help being with Valeria. You hate comparing yourself to her and you feel guilty when you do, but you can't help it. You've conditioned yourself to pick apart all the parts of other women you wish you had. Comparison is the thief of joy and what an excellent thief it is.

A hand gently touches your shoulder, startling you awake. You didn't even realize that you fell asleep.

"Sorry, amor, didn't mean to wake you." Valeria murmurs, pressing an apologetic kiss to your bare shoulder. Valeria crawls into bed beside you, groaning tiredly and moving around to get comfortable. The thing about Valeria is that she's a good read of character. She doesn't need to hear your voice or even see you to know you're feeling down about something.

Her hand travels down your arm and searches for your hand, interlocking your fingers with hers.

"What's wrong?" She asks. Valeria has been gone all day. Busy with keeping her cartel under control and always on edge at the fact that she could be found out or killed at any moment. She's tired. No doubt wanting to just go to sleep.

"Nothing." You whisper back. You turn over and press close to her. Hiding your face in her neck and taking comfort in her familiar smell. She doesn't need to be bothered with your unimportant problems.

Valeria stays quiet for a few moments. Despite your best efforts to keep your unhappiness to yourself, Valeria can still pick up on it.

"Did something happen while I was gone?" She presses, voice hardening with concern.

"No." You reply. Wanting her to drop it. Despite the very real distress the size of your chest causes you, you still feel silly for being so upset about it.

"Something happened." She murmurs. Valeria runs a hand down your back.

"... I'm just having a moment, don't worry about it." You reply. 

Valeria sighs.

"Talk to me about it." She says quietly. 

You hesitate. "It's about my chest." You say reluctantly. Saying it out loud makes you feel juvenile and silly. Valeria doesn't laugh at you or mock you though. She caresses your lower back gently.

"What's wrong with it?" She asks you.

"You know what's wrong with it." You reply. This isn't the first time you've felt insecure about your chest and it's not the first time you've complained about it.

"You think it's too small." She says.

"It is." You frown. "I'm not built like a woman. I don't look like a woman." Now you feel freshly upset about it.

Valeria rolls over and fumbles around her nightstand, turning on the lamp and chasing away the shadows. She looks back at you again, shoulders relaxed and dark eyes half lidded.

"Let me see." She hums. Gently sitting you up and turning your face this way and that. "Hm. Yes, yes." She mumbles. "Looks pretty feminine to me." She remarks. She moves her hands over your shoulders and under your breasts, pushing them up. "These look pretty womanly to me as well." 

"I get it." You mumble, face warming with embarrassment. Though her words do help reassure you a little bit.

"Do you?" She asks, raising a brow at you. Valeria shuffles closer to you, holding your face in her hands. "Do you understand that you don't need big breasts to be a woman? Is an apple any less delicious because it's not as big as a watermelon?" 

Valeria's eyes twinkle in the low orange glow. Glittering with desire and sympathy. She closes the distance and captures your lips in a soft kiss. Molding her lips to yours. You close your eyes and relax. You still find it difficult to believe that Valeria is completely satisfied with the size of your breasts. How could she be when you aren't? But she has no problems with palming them sensually. Pawing at you like a cat making biscuits. She seemingly has no issues getting turned on either as her breathing gets heavier.

She breaks the kiss to kiss down your jaw. Taking her time and savoring your skin. Valeria runs her fingers over your hard nipples and sucks hickeys into your throat. Huffing and moaning like she's the one being touched. She moves down and kisses one of your breasts lovingly. Palming and squeezing the other one. alternating between the two. 

"I can't get enough of you, amor." She breathes. She wraps her lips around your nipple and sucks, making you arch up into her mouth. She doesn't let up. Giving your chest hickeys to match your neck. She tugs and pulls your nipples, giving them equal attention.

You twitch and breathe heavily. Wrapping your arms over her back. After thoroughly coating your breasts in her saliva she moves off of you and sits up. She rummages around in her nightstand withdraws a dark coloured, phallic toy.

"Take off your panties." She murmurs. Waving the dildo at you. Without needing to be told twice you remove your underwear and kick them away.

Valeria grips the base of the toy in her hand and holds it to her lap, her free hand beckoning you over to her. You crawl over and hover over her lap, the tip of the dildo prodding your wet entrance. Valeria shifts the both of you so that your chest is right in her face. With a hand on your shoulder, she slowly lowers you onto the toy. Your walls stretching to accommodate it. You put your hands on Valeria's shoulders to aid you in riding. Valeria watches your chest with heavy interest. Enjoying the minor bouncing of the fat. The harder you go the more they do so. Much to the pleasure of Valeria.

You moan as you grind yourself down onto her lap. She can feel your arousal dripping from the base of the dildo and onto her hand, slickening her grip on it. She grabs and squeezes at your breasts with her free hand.

"Do you still feel unworthy?" She asks, squeezing harshly when you don't answer and making you yelp.

"No." You gasp. Not at the moment, anyway. Truth is, it's going to take more than some special attention to your breasts and an orgasm to heal these deep-rooted insecurities inside of you. But temporary relief is better than never, and you couldn't be more grateful for Valeria's care and patience with you.

"Tell me how beautiful you are." She murmurs. "You don't get to cum unless you do."

"I am beaut-" You sigh. "-beautiful."

"Good girl." She coos, giving your lips a quick peck. You take that as permission to finish yourself. Losing all sense of rhythm in order to achieve that climax. Cumming is the only thought you have.

Your walls squeeze around the toy and you lean down, sinking your teeth into Valeria's shoulder. A whine builds up in your throat and you let go of her. You pull yourself off of the dildo and lay down. Coming down from the high. Valeria tosses it onto a pile of dirty clothes and lays down beside you, stretching out an arm and pulling you closer to her, nuzzling her face into the side of your warm neck.

"Watch what you say about yourself." She whispers. "I don't tolerate anyone talking bad about my partner and you won't be an exception. You're a beautiful woman and I couldn't be happier to be waking up and coming home to you everyday. You're gorgeous and alluring and I lose my breath every time I see you." She murmurs. 

Valeria closes her eyes and not long after begins snoring quietly. She's always been a heavy sleeper, so you peel yourself away from her and get out of bed. Walking over to the lonely, discarded red dress. You grab it and slink off to the bathroom. Pulling it over your head and looking at yourself again. Your boobs don't look any bigger than the first time you put it on, but it doesn't bother you as much. It's cute. It's chic. Your body was the standard in the 1920's, and while it's not the 1920s, it still means something. this shaky admiration for your figure won't last, you know, but maybe someday you'll be able to love your body like Valeria loves it.

[gs29]

The Salesman's Heart

Squid Game Master list

You were making dinner, the aroma of your favourite recipe filling the house, when he walked in, his presence unmistakable even before he stepped through the door. It had become something of a routine: him returning late after his mysterious “business trips,” his sharp suit still as crisp as it was when he left, but his demeanor different—softer, a little more distant.

"You're home," you said with a smile, turning from the stove as you stirred the pot. Your voice carried a warmth, a familiarity that only came with years of knowing someone inside and out. The smile on his face was faint but genuine, like he found peace just being with you.

He didn’t speak right away, slipping his shoes off at the door. As he walked towards you, you noticed the briefcase he was carrying, the way his fingers fidgeted with the edges, a nervous habit that had only started recently.

"Everything okay?" you asked, watching him closely.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Busy day, that’s all.”

You raised an eyebrow, your suspicion growing. There was a weight to him lately—an energy that didn’t match his usual calm, collected demeanor. He was hiding something. And you had a feeling that something had to do with the strange "sales" job he'd been keeping quiet about.

He’d never told you much about his work, only that it was a “unique opportunity” and that it was "important" to him. The business trips were frequent, and sometimes he would leave for days without a word. You didn’t press him. You trusted him. But tonight… something felt different. Maybe it was the way his eyes flickered toward you, like he was trying to make sure you weren’t going to notice something. Or maybe it was the way he hesitated just a little too long when he took his jacket off, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not you’d be able to tell.

You set the spoon down, walking over to him. "What’s going on, honey? You know you can tell me anything."

He looked at you for a long moment, and for the first time in a long while, his expression faltered. The usual mask he wore—a confident, unreadable face—slipped just enough to show a hint of vulnerability.

“I’ve been… thinking about telling you,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant. “I haven’t been completely honest with you about my work. But I think it’s time you know.”

Your heart skipped a beat. This was more serious than you thought. "What do you mean?"

He sighed deeply, his eyes searching yours as if weighing something heavy in his chest. Then, in a soft whisper, he finally spoke: “I’m involved in something… dangerous. It’s called the Squid Game.”

You froze, the name hitting you like a cold wave. The rumors, the strange reports you’d heard—it all suddenly made sense. But hearing it from him, from the man you loved, made it real. Too real.

“The game,” you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady. “You’re part of it?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m not just a player. I’m involved in the sales side of it. I’m the one who recruits people. I make sure they’re… worthy of the opportunity.”

Your stomach twisted. You’d always known that he had a level of ambition that was unmatched, but this? This was something darker. Something you couldn’t fully understand. You wanted to be angry, to shout, to demand answers. But you couldn’t. Not yet. You could only search his face, trying to find the man you’d married—the man who, in your heart, you knew was capable of kindness.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you whispered, your voice cracking just slightly.

He swallowed hard, guilt flashing across his features. “I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want you to think… that I was caught up in something I couldn’t get out of. I thought I could protect you from it. But now—” He trailed off, looking almost ashamed. “Now, I don’t know if I can.”

You reached for his hand, gripping it tightly, as if holding onto the man you knew could still be there beneath the cold exterior. “You’re still you, right?” Your voice was steady, even though your heart was anything but.

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. But then, as if weighing the words in his mind, he pulled you closer and held you tight. “I don’t want to lose you. I’ve done things I regret, things I thought would keep us safe. But I don’t want this game anymore. I want you.”

The words felt like a balm to your soul. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice. He loved you—truly loved you. And in that moment, you realized he hadn’t been trying to push you away. He had been trying to protect you, from the very thing that had pulled him into its orbit.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” you said softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “We’ll get through it together, no matter what. We always have.”

His grip on you tightened, and you felt the weight of his relief. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

“You deserve everything,” you replied, looking up into his eyes. “And you’ll get it. You just have to let go of this… this game.”

He nodded slowly, his hand reaching for yours again, as if reaffirming the unspoken promise. “I will. For you. For us.”

It wasn’t going to be easy. There were no guarantees. But in that moment, as you stood together in the quiet of your home, you knew one thing for sure: he loved you. And that was the one thing you could hold on to, no matter what darkness lay ahead.

[ghuoab]

exhausted!sevika and brothelworker!reader

sevika taking a small visit to the brothel and finding herself a little stress reliever from all the weight on her shoulders

like— the girl needs a rest. she needs time for her own needs every once in a while, always requesting the same woman every time. you.

the brothel was not new to her. she knew about the rules, and how it worked. she was one of the most loyal customers, paying a bit extra to keep her little bird safe, so no one else could see her. touch her. feel her. she was only entitled to see such a delicate bird like you, despite how ruffled and broken your feathers could be under that facade. nevertheless, that alone was breaking the rules. she also knew about the most important rule: and that was to never show your face to any customers, especially as a member of the beloved brothel. no one was special enough, no matter the price. she had always tried to take it off of her special girl, but unfortunately she’d always stop her before.

now it was different.

ever since silco’s death, the entirety of zaun was in shambles. the infamous jinx was running all over the place, and sevika was running right after her. silco’s most trusted right hand, the woman whom really picked up all the messes in the end.

you found yourself waiting, and waiting. sevika specifically asked the owner to keep her away from everyone. payed her a chunk of a sum, and now you were here. sat in your same old room. sat in the same costume, only more sewn up. you were quickly losing business, and no one seemed interested much longer after. you were losing money, and would soon end up on the streets for a third time this year.

the brothel had its last customer around 8:30 PM. that was when the drunks were no longer allowed in, for protection of the workers— and it took a hour or two to make the place clean and tidy. just as you were gathering your jacket and take off your mask, you heard loud mechanical noises. heavy, loud exhausting sighs screeching between gears, and you look up to see the same brute you’ve been waiting for. for nearly months.

you slowly rake your hand away from your mask, adjusting it before staring at her. the butch was… different. she looked exhausted, and almost desperate. her hair was cut short. her mechanical arm was loud, and clearly broken, and oozing shimmer from the wires sewed onto her veins. you almost felt pity for the woman, which felt odd. it only felt odd because she never gave it to you when she was fucking you so good you melted onto your little sofa.

she stared at you for a few moments and quietly took you back inside. she handled you with gentleness that was so foreign and odd. you slowly got pushed back, and she led you right back to the place you both always ended up.

she slowly lead you to your room, not flickering on the lights until after she took off her cloak. she dropped her heavy machine arm and sat on your little couch, sighing as she stared at you.

“…sev?” you call out her name quietly. she put her hand on your waist, slowly running her fingers on your waist. she looked up at you, and she put her cheek against your stomach, her hand slowly coming up on your back. “missed you, birdie…” she grumbled quietly. when you put a hand on her chest, she turned her head a bit to kiss your arm. she’s never wanted to see a face so bad. to feel someone so distant like you were. you knew she was broken, but you couldn’t do anything. not when it could put your job on the line.

her loyalty always ran thick. maybe the strongest need to be weak sometimes.

[coco-and-creame]

NSFW Alphabet - Edd

He’s my favorite AHHHHHHHH I love him so much AGHHHHHHHDBDHDJDJ

Content: no pronouns used but reader has a vagina; that’s it lol this one isn’t too crazy.

A - aftercare (what he’s like after sex)

I think he’s one of the most attentive partners you could have! He asks you directly what he can do for you while he’s cleaning you up a bit with a warm towel. He’ll give you anything you ask for, whether it be food, water, a shower, something funny to watch, or to just cuddle and be together.

B - body part (his fav on you and his fav on himself)

On himself, Edd likes his hands. He uses them a lot since he’s an artist, and he’s very good with them. He loves watching you stretch out around his thicker fingers when he fucks you with them. They’re just very large and strong, and he loves how he can hold you down with them and grip different parts of your body. His hands just hold so much power, and he knows you love them too.

On you, he loves your legs. Mostly your thighs, but really all of your legs. He loves when you wear things that show them off and has a tendency to kiss you from your ankles alllllll the way up before he eats you out.

C - cum (anything to do with cum)

Unless you’re actively trying for a baby or it’s a really special occasion, he avoids cumming inside of you so there’s a lower chance of any surprises. But goddd if it isn’t his favorite thing in the world. He enjoys finishing on your thighs or stomach but nothing compares to how it feels to paint your insides. He thinks it’s partly a possessive thing - seeing his cum drip out of you makes him feel like only he could ever do this, like he’ll be the only one to ever claim you that way and it drives him insaneeee.

D - dirty secret (a dirty secret of his)

He has lots of… less than innocent drawings of you. Just don’t look in his sketchbooks if you don’t want to find out.

E - experience (how experienced is he?)

You’re definitely not his first, but there haven’t been many before you. I’d say he’s had three or four previous partners before you and he clearly learned a lot from them! He’s a very attentive lover and a quick lover. He pays attention to what you like and don’t like, and he’ll check in with you often to make sure you’re enjoying yourself.

F - favorite position (self explanatory)

He is a doggy and prone bone LOVERRRRR. Literally anything that allows him to look at and grab your ass. He’s an ass man and these give him a great view!! He loves how deep he can get in either position, and especially likes being able to put his full weight on top of you in prone bone. He won’t hurt you, but he knows you like being pressed up against each other like that and it gives him easy access to kiss your neck and talk in your ear. It also makes him feel hugeee because he easily covers your entire body.

G - goofy (is he more funny or serious in the moment?)

I think he’s a good mix of both! He loves to make you laugh but is capable of ruining you in the next second. He’s aware that sex is funny sometimes (especially if something isn’t going as planned) and will take advantage of that, but not to the point where it ruins the mood.

H - hair (anything to do with hair)

He doesn’t shave but keeps it in check. He keeps it trimmed fairly short and is pretty good about maintaining it, but he doesn’t mind shaving if you ask him to.

He couldn’t care less about whether or not you shave because either way he is IN THEREE. Truly does not have a preference and will tell you how pretty you look no matter what. He just wants you to feel confident in yourself, so he likes whatever you like!

I - intimacy (how is he with the romantic aspect?)

He is very tender and loving. Not to be mistaken with gentle. He could be fucking the life out of you but you can still tell he’s doing it with soooo much adoration for you. This man worships the ground you walk on. He kisses every inch of your skin and tells you how incredibly beautiful you are to him because he means it! Plans out super romantic sex for anniversaries and your birthday. He’s the type of man to hit you with the trail of rose petals and candlelight before fucking your brains out just because he loves you!

J - jack off (anything to do with masturbation)

He has a pretty high sex drive so depending on how much he gets to see you, he jerks off fairly often. He doesn’t like porn but has an album in his phone full of pictures you’ve sent him or the two of you together. Sometimes if he knows you’re not busy but can’t be with you for some reason he’ll call you for phone sex because the sound of your voice helps him get off. Bonus points if you’re touching yourself at the same time.

K - kink (a kink of his)

SIZE. KINK. My man is tall and chubby and he LOVES being bigger than you. He’s also really strong because of his powers and loves showing off that strength in bed! A big fan of a mating press because it’s just so easy to fold you in half! Even if you’re tall or plus sized he is so so strong and the way he handles you makes it seem like you’re tiny. He’s just. Huge. So you probably are small compared to him, no matter what.

This extends to how big his dick is as well - he’s thick and seeing the way you literally stretch around him drives him insane.

L - location (his favorite place to do it)

Edd likes to have you in bed, away from anyone else’s eyes or other distractions. He likes having the space to kinda toss you around and wants you to be as comfortable as possible. Sometimes if the roommates aren’t home and he knows he has you all alone he’ll maybe have you on the couch or on the counter, but ultimately he’s gonna want to have you in bed, which also makes aftercare and cleanup easier!

M - motivation (what gets him going)

Uhh, the wind? Anything you do has this man bricked up. Wearing his clothes? Doing your makeup? Talking? Laughing? Bending over? Kissing him? He’s ready. Everything you do is sexy to him. He does especially love when you initiate though. You coming to him and letting him know you’re in the mood will always do it for him. He likes to feel wanted by you, so tell him you want him! If you come up behind him while he’s doing something and start rubbing his shoulders while you whisper in his ear he will take you to bed as soon as humanly possible.

N - no (something he won’t do)

I feel like he isn’t into degradation at all. He thinks it doesn’t feel natural and why would he want to be mean to you anyway? He doesn’t mean any of that, so why would he say it? The most you could get out of him is him calling you a slut or something but even then it takes some convincing and he’ll only do it if he’s absolutely positive you want it. He has moral qualms with slut shaming and doesn’t really like calling you anything in that vain.

O - oral (preference on giving or receiving)

Eater! Munch! Face seat! This guy LOVES eating pussy and could genuinely die happy between your thighs. Don’t get me wrong, he likes receiving, but he absolutely adores making you cum on his tongue. He’s waking you up with it and putting you to sleep with it. If he grew facial hair he’d be one of those guys that has bleached patches because he is just alwayyyssss eating you out. He likes having you sit on his face and will pull you down onto his mouth if you start to lift your hips. Argue with the wall he is a MUNCH!

P - pace (fast, slow, stamina, etc)

He has a lot of stamina and can and will go for multiple rounds, he tends to go fast and deep. No matter how insatiable you could be, he delivers and satisfies. He never ever finishes before you because he’s a gentleman! If he does get tired and you want more he’ll happily use his mouth or fingers until you’re satisfied.

R - risk (is he game to experiment or take risks?)

He has no problem trying new things but it’s usually something brought up by you. He knows what he likes and doesn’t typically feel the need to switch things up unless you express that desire. He isn’t particularly risky (e.g public sex) but he’s happy to experiment privately! Sometimes he’ll see a video or article about something you haven’t tried together and send it to you in case it was something you were afraid to bring up. He wants you to be able to tell him about the things you’re curious about so you can try them together, and he isn’t particularly bothered if it doesn’t work out!

S - stamina (how many rounds can he go?)

Like I said, he has a lot of stamina and can usually go for multiple rounds. You guys have sex often so there’s usually no need for more rounds but again, he delivers and satisfies. Whatever you need, he’s willing to give! He can get overstimulated easily though so sometimes he’ll need some downtime in between!

T - toys (does he own toys? does he use them?)

He owns one fleshlight from before you got together but hardly ever uses it. Once in a blue moon if you’ve been apart for a long time he’ll bring it out but he usually doesn’t feel the need to. He doesn’t mind using toys together but I don’t think he necessarily goes out of his way to do so! But uh if he catches you using one he’s finishing you off with it before fucking you himself.

U - unfair (how much does he like to tease?)

Edd spoils you and he knows it but he doesn’t really care. In his eyes, you deserve it! He doesn’t tease you too much because if you even give him the slightest signal that you want something he’s folding immediately. He just wants to make you happy! He’s not a fan of orgasm denial, he much prefers to overstimulate you if anything.

V - volume (how loud is he?)

Like I said before he’s all in your ear. I wouldn’t say he’s loud but he’s very vocal. He moans so so so pretty and gets louder when he cums. He’s fairly talkative as well, he tells you alllll about how good your pussy feels and how good you’re taking him. He’s capable of being quiet but why would he be? He wants you to know how good you make him feel so why would he ever hold it back? He doesn’t understand guys who are quiet in bed and never has. He loves to tell you how much he adores you when he’s giving you the dicking down of the century and he thinks it’s cute when you get all flustered from it!

W - wild card (random headcanon)

He whines if you pull his hair. That’s it.

X - x-ray (what’s going on underneath those clothes?)

Whew. 7.5 inches hard and soooo thick and heavy. Slightly thicker just below the tip. He has a few prominent veins and the tip is slightly pink and he leaks a lot of pre, especially when you start touching him. It’s so so pretty just like the rest of him!

Y - yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

High!!! He’s crazy about you and genuinely always wants to be touching you. If you’re living with him, you probably have sex four or five times a week on average. He specifically makes time for it, even if your schedules clash. He wants you to know how much he appreciates you and shows it through world ending orgasms!

Z - zzz (how fast does he fall asleep afterwards?)

He gets a short little burst of energy directly afterwards, which he uses to clean up and get you taken care of in any way you might need. But honestly, he is crashing not long after. He puts a lot of effort in! Once he’s sure you’re comfortable he is knocked out in minutes and sleeps like the dead. He gets great sleep because if you’re around, you’re basically fucking each other to sleep most nights!

[cakerybakery]

He was pretty sure he figured out that the gold threads were a strong connection. Love had been his first guess but he’d poked the thread one day and it felt deeper.

So Adam watched Charlie and Vaggie for a couple weeks. They often seemed to be on the same wavelength now that Vaggie wasn’t keeping a big secret. When they would come to the same conclusion, even just deciding what to have for lunch, their thread glowed and strengthened.

Seeing Lucifer black void of a thread made Adam’s stomach turn.

He touched it once and wanted to puke. It was cold but strong. The thread was dead and Adam had expected it to be brittle but the connection was strong. They had been married for eons, their connection wouldn’t sever easily.

The most interesting was the one between Husk and Angel Dust.

Adam would catch conversations, Angel’s side was all pick up lines and double entendres while Husk would scoff or nag. But sometimes, Adam caught glimpses of something else and their thread wouldn’t look so wispy anymore.

He wondered about that. So he bided his time.

The storm outside was a big one. Winds howled and the windows rattled. The rains were coming down in buckets.

His room was a little lonely, but Adam didn’t want to actually talk to anyone. He wanted to be around other people and feel their presence, but interacting with them was tiring at times. So he hunkered down in a chair in the corner of the room.

As the night wore on, people seemed to forget he was there, most heading to bed. It was nearly midnight when doors opened and Angel dragged his ass in.

Angel sat down at the bar and Adam watched the thin pink link between him and Husk glowed.

“Hard night?” Husk asked, already pouring Angel a drink.

“Val’s got some bug up his ass, so mine was fucked extra hard.” He downed the drink in one go. “Even sitting hurts.”

Husk nodded and poured Angel another drink. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Angel shrugged. “I dunno. Complaining doesn’t change things”

“But sharing your troubles can lift the weight off.”

There was a small chuckle from Angel, and the pink thread looked a little more stable. They talked, Angel describing his night and Husk being sympathetic.

Adam tuned out most of what Angel said, not wanting to hear that, but watched as Angel touched Husk’s hand gently, how he laughed, and flirted. Husk leaned in to share a smoke, even though there was no smoking allowed in the building. How Husk didn’t quite flirt back, but didn’t shut it down either.

When Angel left, Adam got up.

“Been listening?” Husk asked, but it wasn’t a real question. They both knew Adam had been listening in.

“Ask him out.” Adam didn’t pussyfoot around it. If he was right, their thread was some kind of crush or romantic link.

Husk nearly dropped the bottle he’d been putting away.

“He’s got enough problems with adding me-“

“Angel likes you. You like him. You want him to have less troubles? Be a person he can really lean on and share his problems with.” Adam reached over, flicked off the lights to the bar, and walked away.

Adam was back in his room getting ready to go to bed, when he spotted the new marks on his elytra. Two pink hearts.

“Two down and eight to go.”

“Ten.” God’s voice hadn’t been this clear in Adam’s head since Eden. “Earn ten spots and you can return to heaven.”

Then Adam was groaning in the dirt. His chest ached and put a hand to it as he rolled and used two hands to push himself from laying on the ground into sitting on it. His head was ringing and he put a hand to it in an attempt to sooth his poor brain.

Everything looked weird. Things were drained of colour. Maybe he hit his head?

Could you go colourblind doing that?

He didn’t know, he wasn’t a fucking doctor.

Massaging his temples and face, Adam tried to will colour to come back. It didn’t work and he sighed, dropping his hands to his lap.

“Great. I’m also seeing double.” He closed one of his left hands and then one of his right. Repeating the process with his other left hand and his other right hand.

…

Adam screamed.

Four hands! FOUR FUCKING HANDS!

Why did he have four hands?

Did he have four legs too? He yanked up his robe and screamed again. There was only the two legs but they were very not human. More pointed, the joints were strange, as though he was permanently going to be wearing high heels. Like his arms they were all black, but Adam wasn’t sure if that was because they were black or because he was colourblind now.

For all he knew he was neon pink.

He pulled at the robe and he was the same there too.

Adam touched his skin, it was hard but pliable. A small gasp escaped his throat as pleasure tingled up into his brain.

The screaming seemed to attract attention and there was a surprised, “Adam?” From behind him.

His winged buzzed instead of flapped and Adam turned to look over his shoulder. A hard cover was split open and two gossamer looking wings had unfolded from underneath.

His wings! His beautiful wings! They were now gross bug wings.

Adam wanted to cry when something shiny caught his eye over his shoulder.

A golden spool of thread on the ground. He could see the colour. Adam looked to see where the thread went and didn’t have to look far.

It was tied neatly around the finger of Lucifer’s bitch kid and linked her to fucking Vaggie. What the shit was this? No one seemed to notice the thread at all. Lucifer passed right through it to walk towards him.

He had a thread as well. Black as the void of space and leading up toward the heavenly portal. ‘To Lilith.’ Adam realized. There were more strings.

The lovers had gold but that pornstar and some weird cat guy had one that was bubblegum pink and faded, weak. What’s his face, radio fucker, had an electric blue one that fizzed and popped.

“STAB!” A blur shouted as it launched for his face. Lucifer grabbed her and took the dagger coated in golden blood away.

“HEY! Is that the cunt that stabbed me? I’ll fucking kill her.” His wings buzzed and he zipped into the air with easy. Hovering much easier than he had with his feathered wings.

“WHOA! Whoa!” Charlie stepped between them before Adam could launch himself at the tiny bitch. “The fighting is over.” She took her eyes off him and approached the bug-eyed freak. “Niffty. He’s obviously not an angel anymore, so no stabbing. Okay?”

Her eye rolled towards him and she seemed to think it over for a second before cheerily going, “Okay.” And zipping out of Lucifer’s grasp with an easy that said she had been letting the king of hell hold her.

“And as for you.” She stepped towards him and held out her hand. “Seeing as you have no where else to go, why not stay here? Safer than the rest of hell. Free room and food as well.”

He landed on his spindly legs, but didn’t take her hand. “And what’s the catch? There’s always a catch.”

“Redemption.” She said in a halfhearted cheer. “Uhh, that is, we, you, would join us in redemption activities.”

God’s voice echoed back to him. He needed to earn ten spots to get back to heaven. But how?

Adam didn’t believe in this redemption bullshit. But what if there was something there that got him his spots? At the very least it would be a safe place to crash. And those threads probably had something to do with it. He couldn’t think of another reason why everything else was in black and white, except them.

Her hand started to droop and Adam sighed. “Fine. Deal.”

-

I was playing with my new pens and thought about drawing a pink bee since I was tired of using the yellow. And Lovebug Adam. He’ll have to help ten people with their love lives to earn his spots on his elytra (the hard cover over his wings) to fill up the golden heart he hasn’t noticed yet on his chest and earn heaven. But what happens when he helps Lucifer find love again and it’s him? Does he return to heaven or return Lucifer affections?

[crashed-on-mars]

can all of you shut up for literally five fucking seconds please

[jesusinstilettos]

I’m about to save you thousands of dollars in therapy by teaching you what I learned paying thousands of dollars for therapy:

It may sound woo woo but it’s an important skill capitalism and hyper individualism have robbed us of as human beings.

Learn to process your emotions. It will improve your mental health and quality of life. Emotions serve a biological purpose, they aren’t just things that happen for no reason.

1. Pause and notice you’re having a big feeling or reaching for a distraction to maybe avoid a feeling. Notice what triggered the feeling or need for a distraction without judgement. Just note that it’s there. Don’t label it as good or bad.

2. Find it in your body. Where do you feel it? Your chest? Your head? Your stomach? Does it feel like a weight everywhere? Does it feel like you’re vibrating? Does it feel like you’re numb all over?

3. Name the feeling. Look up an emotion chart if you need to. Find the feeling that resonates the most with what you’re feeling. Is it disappointment? Heartbreak? Anxiety? Anger? Humiliation?

4. Validate the feeling. Sometimes feelings misfire or are disproportionately big, but they’re still valid. You don’t have to justify what you’re feeling, it’s just valid. Tell yourself “yeah it makes sense that you feel that right now.” Or something as simple as “I hear you.” For example: If I get really big feelings of humiliation when I lose at a game of chess, the feeling may not be necessary, but it is valid and makes sense if I grew up with parents who berated me every time I did something wrong. So I could say “Yeah I understand why we are feeling that way given how we were treated growing up. That’s valid.”

5. Do something with your body that’s not a mental distraction from the feeling. Something where you can still think. Go on a walk. Do something with your hands like art or crochet or baking. Journal. Clean a room. Figure out what works best for you.

6. Repeat, it takes practice but is a skill you can learn :)

[simpotat]

Is it bad that I understand exactly why he'd have a problem with digital food even though "the sensation of eating" is basically the same as when you eat real food

[ame-to-ame]

Ackk

[loveritas]

Kinktober Day 11 - Virginity Loss with Kento Nanami

contains: nsfw content: (mdni), fempov, pnv (protected), loss of virginity, oral (reader receiving), fingering, age gap (legal - reader is college age), soft nanami

˚₊‧ for more kinktober here - wc: 10k (bear with me here, it’s slow)

a/n: i apologise in advance for how soft this is, it is sickeningly sweet and a heads up, the writing style of this is a little different to some of the prior ones i've posted here...it's less horny smut in the way its written and more wordy? so if this one's not for you, it's all good, sometimes i just like to mix it up <333

The cool October air nipped at your bare skin as you stood out front of the crowded house, your angel wings from your costume rustling softly in the breeze. The party was fun, but it was getting late, and getting home was an issue. 

The problem was, you couldn't call your dad. He'd have too many questions, too many concerns about why you were out so late. Besides, the revealing nature of your outfit wouldn't have gone unnoticed, and you weren't in the mood to listen to a lecture.

Your phone hovered in your hand, a name already highlighted. Nanami Kento. Your dad's best friend, a reliable, quiet man you'd known for a couple years. He was the safest option honestly and maybe a part of you was pleased with the notion of calling him, of seeing him after the night's festivities. There had always been something about the way Nanami carried himself-so composed, so controlled, it left you curious.

You took one deep breath before pressing the call button. It rang only twice before his smooth steady voice came through the line. "Are you alright?" he asked instantly, as though he'd sensed something was wrong, just from seeing your number at this time. 

"I'm fine," you quickly assured him. "It's just. I'm at a party, and it's gotten late. I need a ride, and I really can't call my dad soo….”

There was a moment of silence, stretching the pause to its limits as he finally replied. "Text me the address. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Waiting around for fifteen minutes in the cold had your mind racing. All you could do was hope he wouldn't say too much about your outfit, a white dress a little too short, with wings fastened to your back and a halo precariously balanced on your head. It had drawn enough attention at the party already, though you'd shrugged it off with nervous laughter. Nanami was an altogether different story, though, and the thought of him looking at you like this made you feel nervous.

Sure enough, in exactly fifteen minutes, Nanami's black car pulled up in front of the house. You quickly headed towards it, heels clicking across the pavement. As soon as you opened the passenger door and slid inside, his eyes raked over you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you said softly, trying not to meet his gaze as you buckled yourself in.

But Nanami's silence was heavy, and you could almost feel the weight of his stare. He didn't say anything right away, eyes staying fixed on your outfit-the dress riding high on your thighs, the soft glow of your wings innocent. His jaw tightened slightly, a barely perceptible movement, but you noticed it.

"Of course," he finally replied, his voice gruffer than usual, with an edge to it. "But that's quite the costume."

You felt shy under his gaze, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "It's just a Halloween costume. You know, harmless fun."

"Harmless fun," he repeated, his eyes darting back to the road as he shifted the car into drive. But the way he said it-twisted something in your stomach, a tension building between you impossible to ignore.

Nanami didn't look away from the road, but his thoughts were far from innocent. He knew he shouldn't be looking at you like this, his best friend's daughter, in a dress that didn't leave much to his imagination. Yet, there was something outright magnetic in the way you looked tonight-the way soft fabric clung to your body, pure white of an angel costume contrasting sharply with the rising inferno inside him.

He gripped the wheel a little harder, his knuckles white. What was wrong with him? You were innocent, too young for him- but the way you moved, the way you shifted in your seat as if aware of how you were making him feel, it stirred something primal in him.

"Did you have fun?" he asked way too calmly, trying to distract himself.

You nodded. "Yeah, it was good. Just got too late, and well, you know."

He couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing along the smooth skin of your legs and then up to your face, lit up in a soft glow from the passing streetlights. He tried to keep a clear head, act like he wasn’t losing his mind over being this close in proximity to you. It didn't help that the scent of your perfume lingered in the air between you, sweet and inviting.

"Your dad doesn't know you're dressed like this," he said-half a question, half a statement of fact.

You shook your head. "No… he wouldn't exactly approve." There was a little, nervous laugh in your voice.

Nanami grunted in response. "He wouldn't."

The tension between you both grew thicker, heavy with unspoken emotion until it was almost palpable in the cramped interior of the car. Nanami couldn't clear his head. What would your father think if he knew how hard it was for Nanami to keep his thoughts pure? How hard it was to pretend the sight of you, in that tight little dress, hadn't set something off inside him?

You shifted in your seat again, the hem of your dress rose just a little higher on your thighs to catch Nanami's attention yet again as he had to adjust in his seat.

The car hummed on silently, but it was obvious that he was trying to keep his cool, trying to ignore the pull between you both, and for some reason, you decided not to make it easy for him.

You shifted a bit in your seat, letting your legs cross; the hem of your skirt inched up just a bit more. You caught the slightest tensing of Nanami's jaw out of the corner of your eye, though he kept his gaze firmly trained on the road.

You bit your lip to suppress a smile. "You know," you said softly, a teasing edge creeping into your tone, "I've never seen you this quiet. You always seem so assured."

Nanami's brow furrowed and he let out a short breath. "It's late," he replied; the words were clipped, strained as if he wanted to force the conversation into something normal.

You weren't buying it. His body language betrayed him-tension in the posture of his body spoke volumes his words never did. You knew with just a little more prodding-a test of the waters-he'd crack.

You lifted a casual hand to your head to adjust your halo headband, your fingers delving through your hair to do so, before you laid your hand on your thigh, letting the fingers linger as you shifted again, angling yourself slightly toward him.

"Thanks for picking me up," you said, your voice soft and laced with something a little too sweet, a little too insinuating. "I guess I could've called someone else, but… I wanted you to be the one."

Nanami's hold on the wheel stiffened further, and you could almost hear the battle raging inside him. His eyes flickered sideways to you, only for a moment, before snapping back to the road.

“Really?" he growled, almost inaudible, the tone low, a little threatening.

You nodded, biting your lip as you leaned closer, your hand lightly brushing his arm as you adjusted once more. "Yeah… I feel safe with you.”

There it was, the first gap in his well-considered armour. He said nothing for a moment. It was as if every unspoken word weighed the air inside the car down and pressed on both of you with its unspoken weight.

Then, wordlessly, instead of turning down the street that would lead to your house, he turned left and went in the opposite direction. You blinked once or twice, peering out of the window just to confirm that he wasn't actually getting onto your usual route.

"Um. my house is the other way," you said light, though curious.

Nanami remained silent for another beat as the car sped through the quiet, dimly lit streets. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice rougher than before.

"I know."

Your heart skipped a beat, and a shiver ran down your spine at the implication: He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing. And instead of taking you home, he was detouring off course on purpose. A decision he had made despite the battle that had raged in his brain.

"Where are we going?" you asked, though the answer was just starting to formulate in your mind.

"My place." Nanami replied in a low voice, very nearly too calm.

Of course his words only had one meaning, and you paused for a second, the situation settling into your consciousness. It wasn't a decision he had only just now considered. He had thought about this, about you—and the barrier he'd held up for so long was starting to crack.

A part of you knew this might have crossed the line, a line neither of you could come back from. In the silence of the car, though, that pull between you became impossible to ignore.

You swallowed as your heart raced in your chest, shifting slightly in your seat as his words sank in. "Your place… are you sure?"

Nanami's grip on the steering wheel loosened, but only for a moment as he let a slow, conscious breath escape. He cast a look in your direction then, something dark in his gaze-a warning, and yet, something deeper, something feral. "No," he admitted in a low voice with a trace of growl. "But I'm doing it anyway."

His place. He was taking you there, and implications that sent your tummy fluttering into somersaults of excitement and uncertainty when he said so. There was no going back once you crossed this threshold.

The time quickly passed and it wasn’t long before the soft hum of the engine stopped, and all that could be heard was your quickened breathing.

Nanami turned to you; his eyes locked with yours. In them was an unspoken question. He wasn't forcing you; this was something you had to step into on your own volition.

You nodded at him and he nodded slightly in return before moving to open the car door for you. His hand was soft and warm in yours as he guided you out. He took you inside and towards the lift. The silence between you was evident, but not uncomfortable. It was charged, alive with possibilities neither of you could deny any more.

As the lift opened onto his floor, Nanami escorted you down the silent hall to his apartment. His steps were sure, steady, but you could feel the tension emanating off of him like a coiled spring ready to snap. He hastily unlocked the door before gesturing you inside.

You stepped inside and the door clicked shut behind you, sealing the two of you into the quiet, dimly lit space. Nanami's apartment was sleek, minimalist, much like the man himself-clean lines, understated elegance. It was intimate, private, and the thought of being alone with him here made your skin tingle.

You turned toward him, soft light from the city filtering in through the windows and casting shadows across his face. He watched you once more, his eyes dark and intense. A silent war inside himself as he struggled to keep his restraint.

"You can still change your mind," he said, low and rough. "Sleep in the spare bedroom- and I won't push this any further."

Your eyes ran across his face, before meeting his gaze. Hal of you screamed to close the distance between the two of you, whilst the other half screamed to sleep in the spare bedroom and never look back on this moment.

But this wasn't about lust or desire; this was crossing a line, changing the dynamic between you both forever, but one you were ready to.

You leaned in towards him, your fingers brushing lightly against his chest. You took note of the quick rise and fall of his chest and the fast beating of his heart under your fingertips. His eyes darkened, his control slipping just that little bit more as he watched you.

"I'm not changing my mind," you whispered softly, resolutely. "I want this."

Nanami exhaled sharply, the last thread of restraint snapping as he closed the remaining distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch just as gentle as you’d expected.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin, as if giving you one final chance to pull away.

But you didn’t.

With a low growl, Nanami's lips finally crashed into yours. He kissed you passionately as if he had been holding back far too long. His hand slid around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as he pressed your body flush against his, trying to get as physically close to you as possible.

The kiss deepened, and all the tension and desire that had built between you finally exploded in a rush of heat and sensation. You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you succumbed to the moment, to him.

One of his hands had clutched your waist as he leaned you up against the wall, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. It was quickly heating up; everything was going so fast. And though you'd expected it, you suddenly became nervous, not knowing what to do, so you couldn't help but blurt out…

“I’m a virgin-”

Nanami froze when you uttered those words, the revelation hanging in the air like a weight that neither of you could ignore. His lips lingered on yours, but the urgency that had driven his actions moments before seemed to vanish, replaced by a sudden stillness. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression torn, conflicted. You could feel the way his chest rose and fell unevenly, the tension coiling tighter inside him.

He should stop. He knows that.

"You're a virgin," he repeated softly, as if trying to ground himself in the reality of the situation. The responsibility of what this meant sank in, his protective instincts roaring louder than his desire. The weight of his role in your life—being your father's best friend, older, more experienced—should have been enough to make him back away, to put distance between you for your own good.

But it didn’t.

Despite everything, despite knowing he should be the responsible one and walk away, the pull he felt toward you was undeniable. His thumb gently traced the outline of your jaw, the conflict clear in his eyes as they searched yours. There was something about you—your trust, your innocence—that stirred something deep inside him, something he couldn’t easily shake off.

"I shouldn't.," he growled low and hoarse, yet with an edge, a residual hunger he could not hide. He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled sharply as if trying to draw himself back in.

But when he opened them again, his gaze darkened, the tension between you flaring back to life. You saw the conflict, the war between what he knew was right and what he wanted more than anything in that moment.

"I-” Nanami continued, his hands moving to cradle your face, his touch still gentle despite the storm raging within him. "This changes everything."

You could feel the restraint, the repression, but you could also feel the resolve slipping. He was a man who prided himself on control, on doing the right thing-but right now, you were making him question all of that.

"I know it does," you whispered, stepping closer, your body brushing against his in a way that made his breath hitch. "But I trust you. I want this… I want you."

Your words seemed to cut through to him, and for a long moment, the air between you crackled with something electric, something neither of you could deny any longer.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. "If we do this," he said quietly, his voice low, serious, "There’s no going back. I need you to be sure. This is… not something I can take lightly."

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his eyes searching yours one last time, giving you the opportunity to pull away. But you didn’t. You met his gaze, your hand resting over his heart, feeling its rapid thrum beneath your palm.

"I'm sure," you whispered, your voice steady, filled with the weight of the decision you had already made.

The last bit of tension left Nanami’s shoulders as he closed the distance between you again, his lips finding yours with a renewed intensity. But this time, his kiss was slower, more deliberate, as if savouring every moment, every taste of you. His hands slid down your back, pulling you closer, but there was no rush, no urgency. He was letting you lead, letting you set the pace.

As his hands moved over your body, exploring with careful restraint, it was clear he was holding back. Despite the fire between you, despite the overwhelming desire, he was still thinking of you, still making sure you felt safe, cherished, in this moment.

Nanami’s heart raced as he led you to his bedroom, the very act feeling surreal. Every step was imbued with a sense of gravity, as though the weight of the moment hung in the air around you, thickening with anticipation and vulnerability. He was acutely aware of the fabric of your outfit, how it hugged your curves and accentuated your delicate features, your halo headband adding to the angelic aura that surrounded you. It was intoxicating, and he felt the primal urge to claim you, to make you his.

The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing against the walls as the city lights filtered in through the curtains. Nanami could hardly breathe as he turned to face you, taking in the sight of you standing there—innocent yet undeniably alluring, a vision that pulled at the very edges of his sanity. You looked like something out of a dream, and he felt a surge of possessiveness wash over him.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. The conflict within him raged on, and yet, as he looked at you—his angel—he couldn't shake the selfish longing that consumed him. Despite knowing he didn’t deserve to indulge in this, he found himself wanting you more than anything else in that moment.

As you stood there, your gaze unwavering, your confidence shining through your innocence, it was clear you were ready to embrace whatever was to come. Nanami took a deep breath, pushing the guilt aside. He didn’t want to be the one to hold back your desires. Not when you were offering him a chance to explore this connection.

"You’re so beautiful," he breathed, stepping closer, his hands reaching out to frame your face. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if committing the moment to memory. The softness of your skin beneath his touch sent a jolt of electricity through him.

"Breathtaking," he whispered again, almost reverently. The weight of those words held true as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing against yours. The hesitation melted away, and he captured your mouth with his again, deepening the kiss with a fervour that spoke of his hunger, of his desire to claim you in every way possible.

His hands roamed over your waist, trailing down to your hips, fingers digging in slightly as he pulled you closer. There was a desperation in his touch now, a need to feel every inch of you pressed against him. He wanted to memorise the way you felt, the way your body fit perfectly against his, like you were made for him.

When he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, there was a fire in his gaze that reflected the storm within him. "Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice a low rumble, though he knew what your answer would be. Deep down, he wanted to hear it, wanted the reassurance that you were truly ready to take this step with him.

“I’ve never been more sure,” you replied, your voice steady, filled with a confidence that both excited and terrified him.

With that, Nanami leaned in again, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of his longing into it. It was both gentle and consuming, a collision of desire and tenderness that left you breathless. The world outside faded away as he lost himself in the sensation of you—the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body pressed against his, the way your hands tangled in his hair, urging him on.

As he guided you back onto the bed, he felt the weight of his own insecurities creep back in. He was an older man, your father’s best friend, someone who was supposed to protect you, not take advantage of your trust. But looking at you, lost in the moment, an angel who was willing to give herself to him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. This was a gift, a chance to experience something beautiful with you, and he would be damned if he let that go.

There was a sense of awe in him as he looked at you, your innocence and trust in him making him feel both powerful and vulnerable. This was different from anything he had ever experienced before, and it left him unsure of how to proceed.

He leaned over you, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek, his touch tender and gentle. "I promise to take care of you," he whispered, his voice low and filled with the sincerity of his intent.

You smiled up at him, your trust in him shining through your eyes. "I know," you replied, your voice soft and confident.

Nanami's breath hitched as he took in the sight of you lying beneath him, the white dress clinging to you. The fabric seemed to glow in the dim light of the room, accentuating your delicate features and the innocence that radiated from you. His heart swelled with a mix of desire and reverence, knowing that he was about to experience something truly special.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck, trailing soft kisses along your jawline, down to your collarbone. The taste of your skin, the subtle scent of your perfume, it all combined to create a heady sensation that made his head spin.

His hands roamed over your body, caressing you through the thin fabric of your dress, mapping out the contours of your figure. He could feel the heat of your skin beneath his touch, and it only served to fuel the fire burning within him.

"You're perfect," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "An angel, sent just for me."

You shivered at his touch, your body arching into his as you sought more of his attention. Your hands moved to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

Nanami chuckled softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Patience, sweetheart. Let me savour this moment."

He helped you with his shirt, shrugging it off and tossing it aside, revealing his toned chest and abs. The sight of his muscular form and you couldn't help but run your hands over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch.

Nanami groaned at your exploration, his hips pressing against yours, the evidence of his desire evident in the way his erection strained against his pants, pressing deliciously against your thigh. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you.

His hands roamed over your body, caressing you. He resumed his kisses along your skin, his teeth grazing you skin ever so slightly. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, your body arching into his touch, craving more.

"I want to worship every inch of you." he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire.

His hands slid down to your thighs, bunching up the skirt of your dress, exposing more of your smooth skin. He took his time, savouring the feel of you, the way your body responded to his touch.

You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, the intensity of his desire, and it only served to fuel your own. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles, the way his heart raced beneath your touch.

Nanami's lips found yours again, his kiss deep and passionate, pouring all of his longing into it. He rolled his hips against yours, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"I want you," he breathed, his voice raw with need. "I want to make you mine, to claim you in every way possible."

He tugged at the fabric of your dress, his intentions clear, but something held him back. The thought of ruining the delicate garment, of marring your innocence, seemed sacrilegious.

Instead, he let his hands roam beneath it, his fingers teasing along your inner thighs, higher and higher, until he reached your panties. He could feel the heat from you, the dampness that betrayed your desire.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered, his fingers already circling your most clit through the cotton fabric. "Tell me you're ready for me."

Nanami's fingers continued to tease and explore, his touch both gentle and insistent. You could feel the pressure building within you, your body responding to his every caress, every brush of his lips against your skin. The heat between you was palpable, the air thick with the scent of your combined desire.

"I want this," you gasped, your voice trembling with need. "I want you, Nanami- Please, don't make me wait any longer."

His eyes darkened with hunger at your words, and he wasted no time in responding. He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs, exposing you to his hungry gaze.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his fingers tracing the delicate folds, feeling the slickness that coated your skin. "So wet, so ready for me."

He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. Slowly, teasingly, he trailed kisses up your leg, his stubble rasping against your sensitive skin, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. He couldn’t help but grin at every slight shuffle from you as he moved closer to your pussy, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy your shyness.

When he finally reached your core, he inhaled deeply, savouring the scent of your arousal. He looked up at you, his eyes locked with yours, before he leaned in and ran his tongue along your folds, tasting you for the first time.

You gasped at the sensation, your hips bucking involuntarily against his mouth. Nanami groaned in response, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you in place as he continued his exploration.

He lapped at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, before dipping lower to your entrance, tasting your essence. He alternated between licking and sucking, his movements slow and deliberate, building the tension within you with each pass of his tongue. “So fucking sweet-” he groaned.

Nanami's tongue continued its relentless assault on your most sensitive areas, licking and sucking, driving you closer to the edge with each pass. As your pleasure mounted, he slowly eased a finger into your tight heat, his touch gentle and patient.

Your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. The pleasure was intense, building with each passing second, threatening to consume you entirely.

He worked you slowly, his finger pumping in and out, curling to hit that spot deep inside that made your toes curl. The sensation of his tongue and finger combined was almost too much to bear, and you could feel your walls beginning to flutter around him. “Such a good girl.”

He added a second finger, stretching you further, his pace increasing as he sensed your impending release. His fingers moved in tandem with his tongue, one hand working your clit while the other drove into you, stoking the fire that burned within you.

Your moans filled the room, your body writhing beneath his touch, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. Nanami could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, your body tensing as you neared your peak. “Come on sweetheart, give it to me.”

As he felt your body tense beneath him, your thighs trembling, he knew you were close. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit, his fingers pumping harder, deeper, determined to bring you to the heights of ecstasy. The world narrowed down to the sensation of his mouth and hands on your body, the pleasure consuming you entirely.

Nanami’s voice was soft but commanding. “That’s it,” he murmured, his words vibrating through you as he flicked his tongue against your clit. “Let go, my angel. Give yourself to me.”

With a final thrust of his fingers, your body gave in. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body trembling beneath him as you cried out his name, lost in the intensity of the moment. He stayed with you through every pulse of pleasure, his mouth working you gently as your climax washed over you, prolonging the sensation by sucking on your clit until you could no longer take it.

As you came down from your high, your breathing ragged, Nanami slowly withdrew his fingers, placing soft kisses along your thigh before sitting up. His gaze was filled with adoration as he watched you recover, his eyes trailing over your body with reverence. “You’re beautiful when you come undone,” he said softly, his voice full of awe. “I could worship you like this for hours.”

Nanami leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his hands cupping your face, thumbs brushing away the single tear that had escaped during your climax and he couldn’t stop his smirk, you were so sensitive and he’d barely even started. “Are you okay?” he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with care, “I want to make sure I don't push you too far.”

You nodded, overwhelmed with emotion, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his eyes. "I just want you, Nanami," you whispered, your voice filled with longing.

His gaze softened as he reached for his belt, slowly undoing the buckle, his movements deliberate. He paused, searching your eyes for any hesitation, any uncertainty. But all he found was the same desire reflected back at him.

He smiled softly, leaning over to the bedside table and going through the drawer before retrieving a condom and some lube, ready to continue, but ensuring your comfort every step of the way.

Nanami’s hands moved with care as he opened the condom, his gaze still focused intently on you, as if each moment was something to be cherished. His heart raced, not just with the heat of desire, but with the overwhelming tenderness he felt for you. He wanted everything to be perfect—gentle, yet powerful in its intimacy.

The tension in the room was palpable, but it wasn’t just sexual. It was the weight of trust, the sacred bond forming between you as he prepared for what was to come. You felt it too, that sense of something so deeply meaningful, and it made your pulse quicken.

With the condom securely in place, Nanami applied a generous amount of lube as he soaked in the sight of your body beneath him, your silk dress still bunched around your waist. His eyes were filled with a mixture of admiration and reverence as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, full of love and passion.

“I need you to tell me if you’re okay, if anything feels wrong,” he whispered, his voice low but filled with concern. “Do you wanna’ be on top? It might be better for you.”

You felt a surge of warmth in your chest at Nanami’s question, his consideration only deepening the intimacy between you. His concern was genuine, and it made you feel cherished in a way you had never experienced before. The idea of being in control, of setting the pace, appealed to you, especially with the softness and care in his gaze.

You nodded, smiling up at him, the anticipation building in the pit of your stomach. “Yeah, I think I’d like that,” you replied softly, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside of you.

Nanami’s eyes softened even further, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile. With a gentle movement, he shifted positions, lying back on the bed, his strong arms helping you climb atop him. You straddled his hips, your hands resting on his chest for balance, feeling the heat of his body beneath your palms. The vulnerability of the moment didn’t make you feel exposed—it made you feel powerful, like you were in control, but still cradled in his unwavering support.

Nanami’s hands found your thighs, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your skin as he looked up at you with reverence. “Take your time,” he murmured, his voice deep and comforting. “There’s no rush.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you hovered just above his cock. You adjusted and the sensation of his hardness against your pussy sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you felt yourself growing even wetter, your body more than ready for him. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the initial stretch making you gasp softly and you had to pause for a moment before taking a little more. Nanami’s grip on your thighs tightened just a fraction, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt you take him in, inch by inch.

You slowly took more of him in, feeling more of a stretch, a slight sting from a fullness that made your body tremble with a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. You could feel Nanami’s hands tightening their grip on your thighs, his silent encouragement pushing you forward, but never rushing you. His gaze was fixed on your face, filled with nothing but patience and reverence.

You glanced down, your eyes following the path of your own body as you straddled him, only to realise with a jolt that you weren’t fully there yet. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you noticed how much of him was still left to take. The realisation made your heart race, a mixture of awe and nervousness swirling inside you.

Nanami seemed to sense your hesitation, his hands moving from your thighs to your waist, steadying you. He lifted his head slightly, brushing a kiss against your collarbone, his warm breath soothing against your skin. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice gentle but reassuring. “You’re doing so well. Take your time. We don’t need to rush anything.”

His words grounded you, reminding you of the trust you shared, the connection that went beyond the physical. You let out a shaky breath, nodding as you slowly relaxed into him again, feeling his fingers gently massaging your waist. You could feel his restraint, the way his body tensed under yours, but he held back for you, waiting, letting you set the pace.

You lowered yourself further, feeling the stretch intensify, your body accommodating his size inch by inch. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you took him in completely, the fullness sending a wave of pleasure mixed with a slight sting through your core. You paused, breathless, your body adjusting to the sensation, the initial tightness making you shudder.

The feeling of fullness was overwhelming, but in the best way possible. A deep groan escaped Nanami’s lips, his hands now gripping your hips as he gazed up at you with pure desire, mixed with tenderness. You sat there for a moment, letting your body get used to the sensation, and Nanami’s hands continued their gentle, grounding movements on your skin.

His gaze was filled with concern and affection, watching your every reaction carefully, ensuring that you were okay. He let out a low groan, his chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths as he fought to control his own desire, giving you the time you needed.

“Take all the time you need,” he murmured softly, his voice laced with restraint and tenderness. He leaned up slightly, brushing a gentle kiss against your temple, his lips lingering there, offering comfort and reassurance. “I’m here with you.”

You nodded, eyes closing as you focused on the feeling of him inside you, the stretch easing bit by bit as your body adjusted. The sting was still there, but it began to fade, replaced by a warm, overwhelming sense of connection. Your muscles relaxed, the tension in your body melting as you slowly started to get used to the fullness, the intimacy of the moment enveloping you like a protective cocoon.

Nanami’s thumbs brushed gentle circles over your hips, his voice a soothing balm. “You feel incredible,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

He was big, but the lube helped, and you allowed yourself to adjust comfortably. You could see the strain in his expression, the effort it took for him to hold back, to let you take the lead. It made you smile, knowing how much he wanted you but how much more he wanted to take care of you.

You began to move slowly, adjusting to the sensation of him inside you. With each shift of your hips, the initial tightness gave way to a deeper, more profound pleasure, but the fullness still made you pause every now and then, needing time to take it all in. Nanami’s hands caressed your skin, his touch comforting and grounding, encouraging you to move at your own pace.

As you lifted yourself up slightly, you felt a slight bit of discomfort that reminded you of the tenderness of the moment. Glancing down, you noticed a small spot of blood where your bodies met. Your breath hitched for a second, a wave of nervousness flickering through you, you weren’t worried, it was your first time, after all. Still, the sight made your heart race, if only for a brief moment.

Before you could say anything, Nanami’s hand moved to cup your cheek, his eyes soft and filled with concern. He had noticed your gaze and the subtle change in your expression. “Hey,” he whispered, his thumb brushing your cheek in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay. That’s normal.”

His voice was calm, reassuring, like a gentle anchor pulling you back to the present. His eyes never wavered from yours, filled with nothing but tenderness and understanding. “If it’s too much, we can stop. You don’t have to push yourself, love.”

You shook your head softly, your chest swelling with affection for him, for the way he always prioritised your comfort. "No, it’s okay,” you murmured, your voice steady, despite the nerves that had briefly surfaced.

“You’re doing so well.” he murmured, his voice deep and strained with pleasure. His hands guided your hips in a slow rhythm, matching your pace.

Your confidence grew with each movement, the connection between you intensifying. The pleasure coursed through you like a steady pulse, and you couldn’t help but smile as you realised how much you enjoyed the feeling of being in control, of taking your time with him. Despite the initial discomfort, the intimacy was beyond anything you had imagined.

Nanami’s hands moved to your waist, guiding you but never forcing your pace. His eyes never left yours, watching you with a mix of adoration and hunger, as if he was committing every detail of this moment to memory. His quiet groans and whispered praises filled the room, encouraging you to move faster, to take what you needed from him.

The rhythm between you and Nanami deepened, each movement becoming a sacred dance of shared desire. As you rode him, the discomfort faded, replaced by waves of pleasure that seemed to ripple through your entire being. The connection you felt, the intimacy between you, was almost otherworldly—like something pure and divine. It was as if you were both part of something much larger than the physical act itself, something holy, like the intertwining of souls.

Nanami’s quiet groans echoed softly in your ears, blending with the sound of your own breathless moans. His eyes never wavered from yours, holding you in a gaze that felt reverent, as if he were worshipping you in this moment. His hands on your waist were not just guiding you—they were anchoring you to this present, sacred moment. The tenderness in his touch was a constant reminder that this wasn’t just about pleasure—it was about connection, trust, and love.

With each gentle rise and fall of your hips, you felt the tension between you building, a shared crescendo that felt like a prayer being offered to the heavens. The room seemed to glow, the soft light casting shadows that danced across your skin, making the moment feel almost ethereal. You could feel Nanami’s restraint, the way he held back, allowing you to lead, to take what you needed.

You glanced down again, noticing the faint trace of blood still lingering where your bodies met, but instead of worry, it felt like a symbol of something being born between the two of you. It was raw and beautiful in a way that made your heart swell.

Nanami’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his words a low, reverent whisper. “You’re divine,” he Nanami's voice pulled you from your thoughts, his whispered words, "You're divine," he breathed, his hands squeezing your hips gently as you moved. "You feel so damn perfect."

Shivers ran across your skin at his praise. You had never felt so connected with another person-so enveloped in the pleasure, in the love radiating between you.

But with every shift it grew, not just from the physical, but it felt as though your very souls were craving for each other, entwining like a vine in a precious garden. Every word that came from Nanami was some sort of hallowed sound. His breath on your lips, hands against your skin...it was the kind of veneration one pays to something holy.

Nanami's fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his touch soft and soothing. Soft kisses pressed against your forehead, your cheeks, your lips-each one another silent declaration of love to you.

As Nanami held you close, his fingers tracing soft patterns on your skin, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. You were his best friend's daughter. It came to him in a flash, momentarily pulling him out of the sacredness of the moment, but he shut it down, refusing to let it intrude.

He wasn't thinking about that now, not when you were here with him, your bodies connected in such a profound, intimate manner. The tenderness in his touch was real; the love he felt for you stronger than any sense of guilt or propriety. It wasn't about what anyone else might think. It was about you, about the trust and bond you'd built together.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to your temple, a silent reassurance, as if it was a sealing of his resolution. Nothing was going to mar this moment-not the past, not expectations, not the weight of responsibility. His fingers dug into your skin, not in a harmful manner but in one speaking volumes about his need to hold on to you, to keep you close. "I'm here," he whispered-a quiet affirmation, yet a promise to himself and you, all at once. "I’ll be all yours-"

The words spoke of everything unsaid, all he couldn't explain yet knew in his heart.

With every subtle rise and fall of your hips, every time your walls clenched around his cock, the tension of the moment surged between you-a crescendo of shared longing that tugged along your very veins like a heartbeat. But as you got lost in the rhythm, you felt the change in Nanami's energy. "Let me take over," he whispered, voice low and full of promise. You nodded, breathless, feeling the thrill of anticipation at the thought.

As you eased yourself off him, his hands guided you gently to the side, and he shifted his position with grace. You found yourself lying back against the soft sheets as your heart pounded in your chest.

As Nanami settled between your legs, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in them making your heart race. There was something of the power in his eyes, a quiet confidence that coursed a thrill through you. You felt vulnerable yet cherished, knowing he was fully present, ready to guide you deeper into this moment.

Nanami lifted your ankles up, with a deliberate care, and laid them over his shoulders. The position opened you up to him; it heightened the sensation as he moved in closer. A soft gasp escaped you in a mix of surprise and delight flooding the senses because the positioning allowed for a completely new depth of connection.

"Just breathe," he whispered, his tone silky and soothing as he watched your reaction. His hands wrapped around your legs, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin as he gently pushed his cock inside again, sliding through with ease now. The angle was completely different, hitting all the right spots, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

His thrusts were slow and deep, taking his time, wanting you to feel every inch of him inside you. "Kento," you gasped, body instinctively arching toward him as pleasure mounted inside of you. This position allowed him to explore you more fully, each thrust setting off a fire that coursed through your veins, racing your heart and quickening your breath.

He watched you intently, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and tenderness, as if he were committing to memory every reaction, every sigh escaping your lips. "You're incredible," he whispered, the admiration in his voice wrapping around you like a warm caress.

He quickened the pace with each thrust, and his motions grew urgent in his urge to take you higher. The tension coiled inside of you tighter and tighter with each stroke. Nanami pressed forward, his lips grazing your forehead before tracing soft kisses down the hollow of your neck, each one sending new waves coursing through your veins. "Let go," he whispered, the soft air of his voice dancing upon your skin. "Just feel.

With his words still echoing in your mind, you succumbed to the moment and the pleasure heaving upon you like a tidal wave. Anything less would make the connection between the two all-consuming; every thrust pulls you deeper into the bliss of shared intimacy.

As he drove deeper, instinctively, your body coiled around him, pulling him in closer, urging him on. You heard the quiet, breathless groans escaping from his lips, each a testament to the overwhelming pleasure being felt together.

"Just like that-" you encouraged, your voice trembling with need as you lost yourself in the rhythm, each thrust sending you spiralling further into ecstasy. Everything else around you disappeared but the two of you entwined in a dance of passion, a sacred union of body and soul.

He was taken aback by just how beautiful you looked, lying there.

“You really do look angelic," he breathed, staring at the way the dress clung to you. It was surreal to him-how someone so beautiful, so vibrant, could be here, completely vulnerable and open, just for him. The mere thought shot a surge of possessiveness rushing through him, igniting something deep within his core.

"I can’t believe I’m the only one that gets to see you like this," he said, his voice low and husky. The unspoken implication hung in the air, heavy with meaning. A fierce pride swelled inside of him, a protective instinct that raced his heart faster. You were his, and no one else had the privilege to know you this way.

He leaned down, pressing soft kisses against your legs, savouring it. "Knowing I'm the only one who gets to touch you like this-to feel you and see you… it drives me wild," he confessed, words tumbling from his lips in an fervour that even caught him off guard. It was not merely in the act itself but in the depth of your connection, the trust that you had in one another. He couldn’t deny this had sparked up a desire of possession in him for you.

As you moved your hips to meet his thrusts, he groaned, burying his head against your shoulder, almost bending you in half from the angle he had your legs now. The deeper he thrust, the more the feeling of you wrapped around him intensified. Every thrust reminded him of the privilege he held, and he never wanted to forget the feeling of being inside you.

It wasn't one of those moments that would come and go but a promise of what was yet to be, an opportunity to get to know the inside of your relationship in that way-in ways more than physical. And in that realisation, a surge of determination overcame him to always cherish you, protect you, and make you aware of how well loved you were.

The rhythm between you picked up, Nanami holding you close as he thrust deeper, pushing you toward the edge of ecstasy. Your reactions to him-the gasps and moans falling from your lips-caused his heart to race even faster, firing up a flame of desire that threatened to consume him whole.

“I don't think I'm gonna let you go now," he murmured, his voice thick with affection. You felt shivers run down your spine at the conviction he drew behind the statement, a delicious thrill coursing through you. It sounded like a promise, a validation of this moment being more than just a one night thing.

With every thrust, it was like he testified to the fact that he knew you were meant to be together this way, bound by something more real than lust. "If you’ll have more of me, I swear I’ll treat you right" he whispered low, truthfulness in his voice raw and palpable.

As he continued to move, the pace becoming more insistent, the heat rose between you. The way you surrendered to him, trusting him implicitly, made his resolve even stronger. He wanted to protect you, to preserve this connection with every part of his being.

“I want you in my life…properly" he breathed, his voice breaking slightly, his emotions spilling over. "I want to be your person.”

Your eyes met and everything just felt so right. You could see the honesty in his eyes-the fierce protectiveness wrapping around you like a warm hug. This wasn't about desire; it was about love, wanting to be together in every sense.

He continued to move, each thrust a declaration, each moment together a step deeper into the bond you were forging. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice firm and unwavering, punctuating each word with a slow, deliberate movement. "And I'm yours, now and always."

He was putting every ounce into you, feeding the fire that was bursting to last between the two-this moment in the engraving of your hearts forever. Everything else faded around you, and it came down to just the two of you, entwined together in a dance as old as time, bound by passion and an unbreakable connection that seemed to be written across the stars.

With every thrust, the intensity between you became all too much. Nanami began to move with greater urgency, his grip upon you  tightening as he urged you toward the brink.

It was as if you could feel the pressure build up in you, spiralling tighter and tighter every time his cock hit that sweet spot inside you. The room echoed with the sounds of your shared breathing, the soft slapping of skin to skin, and the sweet symphony of pleasure mingled together.

“I’m not holding back,” he growled, urgency creeping into his tone. “I want you to feel everything. I want you to remember this.” With that, he quickened his pace, thrusting deeper, harder, pushing you both closer to the edge. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, overwhelming your senses, and you could feel the tightness coiling in your core.

“Kento,” you gasped, the sound slipping from your lips unbidden. The tension was unbearable, a sweet torment that made your heart race. You could feel your body responding instinctively, tightening around him, urging him on, begging for release.

“I’m right here,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, even as he lost himself in the heat of the moment. “Let go for me.” His words ignited a spark within you, and you felt the wave building higher, ready to crash over you both.

With one final thrust, everything aligned—the heat, the pressure, the connection—and you felt yourself spiralling over the edge. Your body trembled as waves of pleasure washed over you, crashing through you with an intensity that left you breathless. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the space between you, as ecstasy enveloped you completely.

You held onto him as you gushed around his cock, the way you clenched around him drew him deeper into the bliss and he followed closely, his own climax hitting him like a tidal wave, surging right through him. “Oh God,” he groaned, the sound raw and primal, his own body responding instinctively to the way you embraced him.

He savoured the aftershocks of the moment, thankful in this moment that he’d worn a condom. And as the waves of pleasure began to recede, you were breathless and spent.

Nanami gently lowered your legs from his shoulders, his touch tender and deliberate. He cradled your ankles in his hands, mindful of the way the position had pulled and stretched your muscles. His fingers began to massage softly, kneading the tension away with a skillful touch that made you sigh in contentment.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and warm, a blend of concern and affection. He looked at you with those deep eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort. The intimacy of the moment enveloped you both like a soft blanket, grounding you in the reality of what you’d just shared.

You nodded, a smile spreading across your lips as you felt his gentle hands work their magic. “I’m perfect,” you breathed, your heart swelling with warmth as you took in the sight of him—the way he focused on you, the care he put into every movement. “Thank you.”

Nanami’s lips curved into a satisfied smile at your words, and he leaned down, placing soft kisses along your ankles and up your calves, each press of his mouth sending a shiver of delight through your body. It felt like a sacred ritual, a way for him to honour the experience you had just shared. He continued to massage your legs, his fingers moving with deliberate care, ensuring you felt cherished and adored.

“I want to take my time with you” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and tantalising. As he kissed his way back up to your thighs, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of mischief and sincerity.

“You have me,” you replied, your voice soft but full of promise. “All of me.”

Nanami’s gaze turned serious for a moment, a flicker of something profound passing between you. “I don’t take that lightly,” he said, sincerity lacing his tone. “You mean a lot to me.”

He paused, taking in the moment, the connection that thrummed between you. He quickly discarded the condom before leaning in, capturing your lips with his in a slow, tender kiss that ignited another spark within you. The world around you faded, and all that existed was the taste of him, the warmth of his body, and the way he made you feel—safe, cherished, and completely desired.

“Let’s stay like this for a while,” Nanami whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours, creating a heady sensation that made you smile. You nodded, content to linger in this cocoon of warmth and affection, feeling utterly adored in the aftermath of your shared bliss.

The world outside ceased to exist as you both lost yourselves in each other, the echoes of your passion fading into soft whispers, leaving only the sweet sound of your hearts beating in perfect harmony.

taglist:

@l0v3m3-p13as3 @hishearttohave @crybabysiri

@jays-adventure3 @nctislifue @eeveedvck @needtoloveoutloud @yowumi

@sweetpo1son @betelgeuse420 @yuhig-blog @psychedellyc @char-35

@kaeyeahsworld @sukunadckrider @ladyackermanisdead

© lovesculprit ↣ do not copy or translate any of my works

[lostalioth]

𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫

→ premise: sometimes logan’s age showed more than it normally would and so just once you called him an old man, affectionally of course. Well he was determined to show you he wasn’t one.

→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, nicknames [baby, sweet girl, princess], daddy kink, both reader and logan use old man as a nickname, oral [f receiving], unprotected sex, established relationship, slight overstimulation.

→ a/n: the pictures/moodborad above are purely for vibes :) you can imagine any logan pretty much for this fic i think. this is mt first time writing logan so sorry if hes out of character and sorry for any mistakes this was written and proof read at 1am.

Logan wasn’t the type of man to be insecure about his age, his body and face didn’t necessarily show it like how it did on others obviously. He was well aware he was way older than you, he was much older than most people. His age showed more with his taste in music and movies, even in some of the outdated slang he frequently used.

You were currently laid up in your shared bed with Logan. You loved being curled up in his lap, your head resting on his chest cuddled up against him. A cigar nestled between Logan's lips, him periodically puffing out smoke. One of his arms lazily resting over your body holding you against him. An older movie was playing on the tv in the background, the volume was high enough for you to hear it, however you could hardly pay attention. Your mind was too lost in how domestic and old timey it all was, the feeling making your heart flutter.

“You know this was my favorite movie, well one of 'em used to watch it all the time” Logan's gruff voice breaks you from your train of thought.

You look up at your boyfriend and smile softly, his gaze fixated on the black and white images flashing across the screen. You chuckle softly and reach up towards his neck to thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. An action that Logan has come to love and even crave on the days when life gets just a little too much.

“You're such an old man” your voice breaks his focus , it was teasing and full of affection as you said it. Logan could clearly hear it, and your statement was correct and didn't bother him, however he couldn't help the little plan forming in his head to mess with you. Shaking your head lightly you turn your attention back on the television.

“Ya’ wanna say that again sweet girl?” He leans his head down, all his attention now glued to you. His words came out almost mockingly instantly making your gaze snap back up to him. He grabs ahold of your chin so that your focus and your eyes stay on him. You knew that teasing tone of voice like the back of your hand by now and what it meant. It made the flutter in your heart drop to your stomach, his arm that was wrapped around your body tightens. You can feel him starting to grow harder against your thigh, making you squirm a bit in his grasp. You swallow hard, your voice suddenly caught in your throat. Logan watches as your pupils dilate and that sweet smell that he's become addicted to fills his nose, giving away your own growing arousal.

“Cause i'm thinkin’ you just called me old princess” He cocks his head to the side in a teasing manner, his lips breaking out in a smirk. Still not being able to find your words you shake your head ‘no’ causing him to chuckle deeply. “No? cause i think ya’ did baby, yeah i think you called me an old man” His words come out in almost a growl as he leans forward, pushing you down on your back. His body now perfectly nestled between your legs as he hovers over you, pinning you down with his weight. His large rough hands holding onto your hips, one slowly drifting and pushing up the t-shirt you had on. A t-shirt that looked an awful lot like the one he's been looking for all week.

“Maybe i did.. but you are an actual old man Logan, you’re much older than me baby” Finally finding your voice you attempt to explain yourself, though you knew he wasn't actually upset by your comment. His strained cock pressed against your clothed cunt being more than an indication of that. Your damp panties and his jeans doing nothing to stop him from feeling the way your pussy was throbbing already from his teasing.

“Yea? Well ima show you just what this old man can do huh” He questioned, barely giving you a moment to answer. Wasting no time he has your shirt pushed up revealing your bare tits and his other hand pulling your panties down your legs. Sliding down your body and the bed he slowly kisses down your exposed chest and stomach until his head has made it between your spread thighs. “Logan..” you whine softly, your eyes glued to his every move as you grow more impatient. A rush of cold air hits your lower half when he finally rids you of your soaked underwear.

That damn smirk not wavering from his face as he grabs ahold of your thighs and nearly growls when his tongue finally laps at your pussy. “Fuck i dont think i’ll ever get over just how fuckin’ good you taste baby” his words come out a bit mumbled as his face is buried between your folds. “Lo..” you whine in embarrassment at his statement. Your slick had coated his face in seconds, though it was clear he could care less, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. Even biting the nub softly causing your hips to buck up against his face, his scruffy facial hair rubbing your inner thighs. He groans against you and grips your legs tighter pulling you closer to his mouth.

“Daddy…fuck!” You gasp softly and moan at the sensation and tighten your thighs around his head, Logan's favorite thing was to feel your plush thighs squeeze his head. His adamantium skull being able to take the pressure. You can feel him smile against you at both the name and the action. “Atta girl, princess. Such a good girl for ya’ old man” he praises, his deep voice vibrating through your body.

Letting your clit go Logan pulls away for a moment, dropping his grip on one of your thighs as well to bring his hand and spread apart your lips. Leaning his head back a bit he spits on your pussy, his saliva sliding down to your throbbing hole. “Fuck she always looks so pretty sweet girl” he hums in approaval and admiration at your pussy. His eyes finally lift back up to your face, he takes note of your already blissed out look. “No cuming til I tell you baby, ya’ got it?” He questions, a small smile on his face that was covered in you.

“Yes daddy” you whine, your voice coming out a bit soft as you were taking the time he was giving you to catch your breath.

With a small smack to the side of your ass he dives his head back down, sticking his tongue out flat and licking a strip up the center of your cunt. Growling and burying his face between your legs again he laps and sucks at your clit and folds. Your hips having a mind of their own buck up against his mouth, nearly riding his face. His hips rutting up against the bed of their own accord as well, his precum now leaking through his boxers a bit. His cock straining against his jeans as wonton moans and whimpers leave your lips. Your eyes screwing shut in pleasure as his tongue every now and then pushes inside you and his nose nudges your swollen nub.

You could feel your climax quickly approaching, pushing your fingers through Logan's signature tufts of hair and pulling his face closer. “Fuck- Lo…Daddy please” you moan out pleading with your boyfriend to let you cum. He squeezed your thigh and groaned roughly against you, you knew that was his way of saying ‘not yet’. You whine and tug harder on his hair causing him to let out a small muffled moan. He pulls his face away a bit and with his hand that wasn't squeezing your leg he slips two fingers through your lips, collecting his spit and your slick together. Continuing his attack on your nearly now oversensitive clit he slides his thick soaked fingers inside you stretching you slowly. The rough pads of them instantly finding that spot deep inside you.

“Daddy I don't- uh shit! I don't know how much longer I can hold on, please Logannn!” You moan and whine out his name as your hips thrust back against his skilled fingers and rut against his face. Your high teetering on the edge as you try your hardest to hold it back. “Cum baby, cum on daddy's face princess” he commands and in an instant your body responds and allows your climax to hit you head on.

A string of curses leave Logan's lips as he laps at your cum as it leaks out of you, broken whines and small moans leave yours as he draws out your climax a bit longer. Finally emerging from between your legs, his lips swollen and pink, the whole lower half of his face covered in yours and his combined mess. Heat floods your face a bit at the sight, though your boyfriends still got that smirk glued to his pretty face. The dynamic of you being nearly entirely naked and him still entirely clothed caused an ache to settle back in your core as if Logan hadn’t just made you cum.

He makes his way bad up your body, quickly pulling off his shirt as well as finally pulling yours up and over your head, definitely leaving you entirely naked now. Leaning down, pressing his crotch right up against yours, his clothed bulging cock nudging open your wet and sticky folds. His lips hover over yours as his hand slides up your side, the other brushing over your breast before it’s wrapped around your neck and pinning you back against the bed. He squeezes your neck softly making you let out a whimper.

“You were saying baby?” His voice comes out deep and a bit hoarse as he questions your previous comment again. “Not callin’ me an old man now are ya’ sweet girl, noo cause you cant even talk” he mocks, a small smile on his face as he rocks his hips up against your pussy, the rough material of his jeans stimulating your abused bundle of nerves setting it off again. Your slick creates a wet spot on his jeans the more he grinds his dick against you.

“Won’t do it again i swear daddy, you're not an old man” you whimper softly as your hands grab at his arms and hands, your fingers rubbing at his knuckles where his claws rip through the skin. When his fly zipper brushes your clit you let out a short moan and move to grab at the waist of his jeans tugging, trying to get him to take them off. Tears lightly coat your eyelashes as you bat them at Logan. He scoffs softly and shakes his head at you as he lets go of your neck to undo his belt and the buttons to his jeans, pulling off his belt and jeans. You watch with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes, your chest heaving in impatience, hands wandering his body and rubbing over his muscly arms and board chest. He tugs his boxers down his thighs as he grabs your legs, wrapping your thighs around his waist. His tip leaking precum is redden and twitching as he rubs it through your lips before pushing at your hole.

“Come on princess, apologize for it” he goes painfully slow as he pushes inside you. “Apologize nicely for calling daddy an old man” he grins and brings his hand up to your boob, brushing his rough thumb over your nipple. You gasp softly and whine, wiggling your hips both in protest and to try and get him inside you faster.

Realizing he won't keep going further til you apologize, you give in. Pulling him down and closer, you wrap your arms around his neck and look into his eyes. “I'm really sorry for calling you an old man Lo, i didn't mean it i promise. You're not an old man daddy” you whine and brush your lips softly against his. “Oh fuck, you’re so sweet on me baby i love it” he growls and thrusts inside you hard as his lips crash against yours. You moan out loudly the sound muffled in Logan's mouth as his hips snap against yours. His cock thrusting deep inside you, hitting that spongy spot making your brain go foggy. Kissing you hard and passionately as his hands roam your body not being able to stop himself from touching you everywhere, you're all his anyway.

“My sweet, sweet princess, takin’ it so good from your old man huh?” He groans and presses his forehead against yours as your hips bounce off his. All you can do is frantically nod and mumble and whine about how good he feels and say yes daddy. Your nails digging into his back and running through his hair.

Logan may be an old man but he was your old man and he definitely didnt fuck like one. He knew how to keep up with his sweet little young girlfriend.

→ a/n: hope you enjoyed my loves, PLEASE SEND ME LOGAN REQUESTS< MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND IM CURRENTLY OBESSED WITH THIS MAN

[not-neverland06]

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)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re 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 you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress. 

You’re 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 there’s less friction when you’re all around each other. 

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d 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. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since. 

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn. 

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer. 

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s 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. 

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy. 

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don’t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face. 

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 you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound. 

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.” 

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. 

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now. 

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. 

You’d 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 don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar. 

Like you’d 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. 

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her. 

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be. 

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out. 

It’s 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. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer. 

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here. 

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt. 

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit. 

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. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers. 

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” 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 Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom. 

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” 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. 

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.” 

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s 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 you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that. 

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him. 

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” 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. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” 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. 

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations. 

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice. 

You’re 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 doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title. 

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, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break. 

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar. 

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 isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you. 

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t 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?

You’ll 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. 

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish. 

You didn’t 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 can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across. 

You need to talk to him. It’s 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. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now. 

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. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him. 

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re 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 he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question. 

It’s 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. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone. 

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

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. 

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him. 

“Look,” 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. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s 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. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

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 can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you. 

You’ll 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. “Out.” 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. 

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re 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 he’s going to touch you. 

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name. 

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s 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. 

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. 

It’s 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. 

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 it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion. 

“I’ve got you,” 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 won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away. 

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force. 

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s 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. 

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise. 

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation. 

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re 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. 

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ 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. 

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout. 

“Two days,” 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. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid. 

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?” 

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s 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. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t 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. 

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed. 

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 didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you. 

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. 

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d 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 she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands. 

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. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy. 

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 didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore. 

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry. 

“Holy hell,” 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 it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess. 

“You look like shit.” 

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands. 

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath. 

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears. 

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t 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. 

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” 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. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s 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. 

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah. 

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re 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. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now. 

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t 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 you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything. 

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night. 

“I want to see her,” 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. 

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you. 

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 didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you. 

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 you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit. 

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions. 

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree. 

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t 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. 

He didn’t 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 didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside. 

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

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 wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that. 

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again. 

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day. 

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t 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 you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t 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 you’re in the same room together. 

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s 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 he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head. 

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 didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off. 

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now. 

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.” 

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” 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. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it. 

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem. 

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 you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs. 

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 doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you. 

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. “Well?” Jean probes. 

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not 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 she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out. 

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 don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is. 

“Imagining it’s me?” 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. 

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

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. 

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t 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. 

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other. 

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d 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. 

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit. 

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead. 

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re 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 you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him. 

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” 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. 

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this. 

But he’s 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. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him. 

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. 

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care. 

You don’t 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. He’s treating you like you’re 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. 

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. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him. 

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t 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. 

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. 

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care. 

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s 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. 

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care. 

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. 

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building. 

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. 

You’re 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 can’t 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. 

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over. 

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. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him. 

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. 

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re 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. 

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve 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. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit. 

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

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. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him  “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” 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. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you. 

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re 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 can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge. 

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 hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing. 

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. 

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. 

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d 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. 

But you’re 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. 

“Shit,” 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 he’s 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. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered. 

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.” 

He doesn’t say anything and you’re 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. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s 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 there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other. 

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back. 

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d 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 you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve 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. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.  

It’s 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. “I love you,” he whispers. 

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. 

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings. 

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.” 

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it. 

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s 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, I’m no better than a man.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.