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wolvietxt · 2 months ago

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𝓓RAWN TO 𝓨OU !

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : reader has a cat mutation, fluff, hurt comfort, past traumas, shy!reader wc : 1.8k

logan’s first mistake was being nice to you.

you’d only been at the x-mansion for a couple of weeks, still getting used to the overwhelming energy of it all. after years of isolation and trauma, being thrown into a lively, bustling environment like this felt like stepping into a different world. you’d barely been able to keep up, senses overloaded with all the new faces, noises, and scents around you. everything was too much, too loud, and you felt like a stray cat caught in a storm.

it was one of those days when you were trying to find a quiet corner, somewhere to hide from the noise. the rec room was packed; laughter, conversations, the clatter of cutlery and plates filled the air, setting your nerves on edge. you sat in the corner, tail flicking anxiously, ears flattened against your head as you tried to drown out the chaos. you could feel your claws digging into your palms, a desperate attempt to ground yourself before you bolted.

but then you caught a familiar scent - woodsy, rugged, with a hint of cigar smoke. it cut through the haze like a lifeline, something steady to latch onto. you turned your head and saw him: logan, walking through the crowd with a beer in his hand, that permanent scowl etched onto his face.

you didn’t even think twice; you just got up and followed him.

he didn’t notice you right away. he was too busy glaring at the world, lost in his own thoughts as he made his way through the mansion. it wasn’t until he reached the stairs that he paused, glancing over his shoulder and finding you trailing behind him like a shadow.

“the hell’re you doin’?” he grumbled, eyes narrowing as he took in your anxious stance, the way your tail was flicking behind you, betraying your nerves.

you froze under his scrutiny, unsure how to explain it. a soft mewl escaped you, one you hadn’t meant to make, and his scowl deepened. but he didn’t tell you to go away. instead, he just let out a resigned huff, turning back around with a muttered, “fine, just... don’t get in my damn way.”

you stuck to his side after that.

logan found it annoying at first - he wasn’t exactly a people person, and having someone constantly following him around like a lost kitten was grating on his nerves. but no matter how many times he tried to shake you off, you’d always find your way back to him. it was like you had some kind of sixth sense for where he was in the mansion. if he was in the garage, you were there, perched on an old crate, watching him work on his bike with wide, curious eyes. if he was out back, smoking a cigar, you were sitting a few feet away, basking in the quiet comfort of his presence.

he didn’t get it.

“don’t you got somewhere else to be?” he’d grumble every now and then, but there was never any real heat behind it.

you’d just shake your head, a small, shy smile on your lips. “i like being here... with you.”

and maybe that was the turning point, the moment he stopped trying so hard to push you away. it wasn’t like you were causing trouble - you were quiet, easy to ignore when he wanted to be left alone, but always there when he needed an extra hand or just... someone to share the silence with.

the others noticed, of course.

“she’s like your little shadow, ain’t she?” rogue teased one day, leaning against the doorframe of the garage, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

logan just shrugged, wiping the grease off his hands. “she’s harmless,” he muttered, like that was enough of an explanation.

“she’s cute too.” rouge muttered under her breath, a smirk forming on her face. “hey, do you know why she’s even following you around in the first place?

“i got no fuckin’ clue. says she’s just drawn to me?”

the smile on her face grew tenfold, “oh logan...”

he shot her a confused look, her teasing eyes only twinkling more, a little snort that she seemed she couldn’t hold in forcing it’s way out.

things took a turn one night when you showed up outside his door, clutching a blanket to your chest, looking more skittish than usual. it was late, the mansion quiet except for the distant hum of the generator, and logan had been looking forward to some peace and quiet.

but then there you were, eyes wide and pleading, ears drooping like a scolded cat.

“what is it?” he asked, voice gruff, though there was a flicker of concern in his gaze.

you shifted on your feet, not meeting his eyes. “can i... stay here tonight?” you whispered, so soft he almost missed it. “i... i don’t want to be alone.”

logan stared at you for a moment, torn between his instinct to tell you to go back to your own room and the strange, unfamiliar urge to protect you. finally, he just let out a heavy sigh, stepping aside to let you in.

“fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “just for tonight.”

you nodded quickly, slipping past him and settling on the floor next to his bed, wrapping yourself in your blanket like a cocoon. he watched you for a moment, the way you curled in on yourself, small and vulnerable, before turning off the light and getting back into bed.

but it wasn’t just for one night.

you kept coming back, night after night, until your pillow and blanket became a permanent fixture in his room. logan didn’t say anything, just grunted in acknowledgment whenever you slipped in after dark, but he never turned you away.

“you know you could just take the bed,” he said one night, half-asleep, his voice a low rumble in the darkness.

you shook your head, though he could barely see it. “i’m fine here,” you whispered. “i don’t want to be a bother.”

logan just huffed, turning over, but he didn’t press the issue.

he didn’t realise how used to your presence he’d gotten until you weren’t there.

you’d gone on a mission with some of the others, promising him you’d be careful, but he couldn’t shake the bad feeling gnawing at his gut. he tried to distract himself, burying himself in his usual routines, but everything felt... off without you trailing after him.

when they brought you back, bruised and bloodied, something in him snapped.

“what the hell happened?” he growled, stalking over to where hank was tending to your injuries, his fists clenched at his sides.

“it was my fault, lo” you mumbled, not meeting his eyes. “i... i thought i could handle it.”

logan just shook his head, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “you’re not fuckin’ ready for this,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

you flinched, your ears flattening against your skull, and he immediately regretted his harsh tone.

“dammit,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “i didn’t mean it like that. just... don’t scare me like that again, alright?”

you looked up at him, eyes wide and vulnerable, brimming with unshed tears, and he felt something tighten in his chest.

“i just... i feel safe with you,” you whispered through your watery expression, so soft he almost missed it.

logan’s expression softened, the anger draining from his face.

“yeah, well,” he muttered, looking away, “you are. safer, i mean.”

one night, as you were curled up next to him, your tail wrapped around his leg, you murmured something that made his breath hitch.

“i’ve never felt like this before... safe, i mean,” you whispered, your voice so quiet it was almost lost in the darkness.

logan went still, his heart pounding in his chest, but he didn’t pull away.

“yeah?” he asked, his voice rough, unsure of where this was going.

you nodded against his chest, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his skin. “with you... it’s different. i don't feel like i have to look over my shoulder all the time. i’m not scared when i’m with you.”

he was silent for a moment, trying to process the weight of your words. the confession hung between you, fragile and tentative.

“you mean that?” he finally asked, voice gruff, his hands tightening around you just a bit.

“yeah,” you breathed out, turning to look up at him, eyes wide and honest. “you... you make me feel like i’m not alone anymore.”

logan swallowed hard, the raw vulnerability in your voice cutting right through him. he wasn’t good with words, never had been, but he knew he didn’t want to mess this up.

“that’s all i need,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, and logan felt something warm and unbreakable settle in his chest.

logan swallowed hard, the raw vulnerability in your voice cutting right through him. he wasn’t good with words, never had been, but he knew he didn’t want to mess this up.

“i don’t know what the hell i’m doin’,” he muttered, looking down at you, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “but i’ll stick around if that’s what you want. i’ll try... for you.”

you smiled softly, leaning into his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. you could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the way he was still holding back, afraid to take the next step. so, you did it for him. with a hesitant breath, you lifted your hand to his face, gently tracing the rough line of his jaw with your fingertips.

“logan…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. his eyes softened at the sound of his name, and for a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you charged with something unspoken.

slowly, he dipped his head, bringing his face closer to yours. you could feel the warmth of his breath, the way it hitched slightly, as if he was still unsure. but then his lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative, as if he was afraid of breaking you.

the kiss was gentle, almost shy, a stark contrast to the rough edges that usually defined him. his hands cupped your face so carefully, as if you were something precious and fragile, something he never wanted to lose. your eyes fluttered shut, a soft sigh escaping you as you leaned into him, feeling the warmth and tenderness he rarely showed to anyone else.

logan’s thumb brushed against your cheek, a silent question, asking if this was okay, if this was what you wanted. you answered by pressing closer, your lips moving against his in a slow, careful dance that spoke of trust, of finding solace in each other.

when he finally pulled back, it was only by a fraction, his forehead resting against yours, eyes still closed. he stayed like that for a moment, just holding you, as if he was afraid that letting go would mean losing this fragile connection.

“you’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, voice rough with emotion, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your skin.

“maybe,” you whispered back, smiling softly, your eyes shining as you looked up at him. “but i think i found something special too.”

logan just held you tighter, his lips ghosting over yours once more, a silent promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.

🌀 logan howlett : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

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d1stalker · 5 months ago

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The Feeling's Mutual | Part One

[Logan Howlett x Mutant!Reader]

Summary: If somebody told you a week ago that you were a mutant, being stalked, and would be teaming up with an annoying, grumbly bastard, you probably would have laughed in their face. Too bad that was last week, because here you are, in that very situation, wondering how in the world things escalated so quickly.

PART TWO PART THREE FINAL PART

Warnings: fem!reader, canon-level violence, reluctant alliance, bickering, not exactly enemies-to-lovers but they don't rly get along, it's gonna be a slow burn y'all WC: 5.7k - MASTERLIST - A/N: If you saw me post this earlier, no you didn't 🤫 i added more hehe

You’ve never been so confused in your entire life.

It all started last week—when you were walking to the grocery store. Just an ordinary day, nothing special about it. You had a list in your hand, some cash in your pocket, and thoughts of what to cook for dinner running through your mind. The route you took had you winding down the usual streets of your neighbourhood, and that’s when you noticed him.

Something about him was different, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on what it was that made you think that. Perhaps it was the way his eyes followed you, stalking you, like a predator its prey.

At first, you thought it might be a coincidence. Maybe he was just another person going about his day, heading in the same direction as you. People share paths all the time; there was no reason to suspect anything sinister, right? But as you continued walking, a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach told you something was off. You decided to test it, making a sudden turn down a side street, one you usually never take.

The street was quieter, less foot traffic, and the late afternoon shadows were starting to stretch across the pavement. You glanced over your shoulder, and there he was, still a few steps behind, his gaze remaining locked onto you with a focus that sent a shiver down your spine. Quickening your pace, you felt an almost paralyzing fear.

This wasn’t just a shared route.

The more you turned, the more you weaved through unfamiliar streets, the more persistent he became. He never faltered, never hesitated, always keeping just close enough to let you know he was there.

Finally, you reached the store, breathing in short, panicked gasps, your eyes flitting around. You ducked inside, hiding the fluorescent lights and bustling aisles. You tried to calm yourself, telling yourself it was nothing, that you were being paranoid. After all, what were the odds? Maybe he’d walk past, maybe he wasn’t even following you. You spent longer than usual picking up items you didn’t need, giving him time to disappear.

But when you walked back outside, bags in hand, you saw him again. He wasn’t right at the door, but still, close enough—across the street, half-hidden in the shadow of another building, watching. His eyes locked with yours once more, and you froze, the plastic handles of the grocery bags digging into your palms as your grip tightened in fear. He didn’t move, didn’t smile or sneer, just stood there, silent.

You rushed home, not even bothering to see if he was tracking you down, too scared to find out the answer. Your mind was racing with a million thoughts. Who was he? What did he want? You didn’t sleep much that night, jumping at every creak and groan the apartment made, the image of that man’s cold stare burned into your mind.

The next day, you told yourself it was nothing, a one-time thing, just some creep who had too much time on his hands. A pervert, possibly.

But happened again. A different man this time, but with the same unnerving intensity. He followed you the same way, mute and relentless, through the streets, to the store, and back home.

Then the day after that, and that, and that. They didn’t approach you directly, just followed, watched, waited. It was like a game, one that you didn’t know the rules to, and the stakes felt like they were getting higher and higher and more time passed. Whenever you stepped outside, you felt their eyes on you, felt their presence lurking just out of sight. It was terrifying.

The fear gnawed at you, growing with each passing day, until it became impossible to ignore. You started taking different routes, avoiding your usual stores, changing your routine as much as you could. Still, no matter what you did, they always found you.

Soon it changed—no longer just silent stalking. One night, as you were walking home, one of the men stepped out from the shadows and blocked your path. His presence was oppressive, the way he stood there, so still, so certain of his power over you. You had no idea what he wanted, but you knew it whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Why are you following me?” you demanded, trying to muster up all the courage you could, voice shaking slightly despite your attempt to sound strong.

“Because we were told to,” the man said, his voice cold and emotionless. There was no malice, no pleasure in his words, just a chilling matter-of-factness. “You’re coming with us.”

Panic surged through you, a primal instinct to run, to fight, to do anything but comply. You refused to show it, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spat back, hoping your defiance would be enough to make him reconsider.

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in them, and before you could react, he lunged at you, his fist swinging with brutal intent. Time seemed to slow as you saw the blow coming, your mind racing, but your body moving almost on instinct. You raised your arms to defend yourself, bracing for the crushing impact that would follow.

You couldn’t explain what happened next. When his fist connected with your arm, the force that should have sent you to the ground, left you unscathed. Instead, it was the man who staggered back, a look of shock and pain twisting his features. He clutched his hand, wincing as if he had struck something far harder than just flesh and bone.

You stared at him, bewildered, before glancing down at your own arm in disbelief. There was no pain, no bruise, nothing to indicate that you’d just been hit. It was as if his attack had bounced off of you, like you were made of steel.

Had you really just blocked that hit? And why did it feel like… nothing?

Before you could process what had happened, before the realization could fully take root, another man appeared out of nowhere, moving with a speed that blurred the edges of his form. Mutant. He was faster than the first, more determined, and this time, you felt your heart stop as he came at you from behind, his hands outstretched to grab you.

But something in you reacted faster than your fear. You twisted out of his grip with lightning speed, with movements so fluid and precise, it was as if your body knew exactly what to do, even if your brain was struggling to keep up. You sidestepped his attack, narrowly avoiding his grasp, and found yourself behind him, safe for the moment.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. How did you move like that? How had you known where to go, how to dodge?

There was no time to dwell on it. The fight intensified in an instant, the two men coming at you one after another, relentless in their assault. They weren’t holding back, and suddenly neither were you. You moved like a force of nature, dodging their attacks, striking back when you could. Each punch you threw landed with a power that surprised even you. You watched in stunned disbelief as one of the men crumpled to the ground after a single blow, his eyes rolling back as if he’d been hit by a truck.

You are not a gym regular. In fact, you hadn’t worked out in weeks. You weren’t strong, not like this. So how was it possible that your punches were so devastating, that each one seemed to carry a weight far beyond what you’d ever imagined?

Then, with a flick of his wrist, the first mutant, conjured a ball of fire in his hand, the flames crackling and roaring, craving something to burn. He hurled it at you, the fireball spinning through the air with only one target in mind.

You barely had time to scream as the flames engulfed your arm, the searing heat burning through your skin. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that made you gasp and stumble back. You expected to see your skin blackened, blistered, ruined.

And it was.

For a minute.

To your shock—or horror—you looked down, breath catching in your throat as you watched the burn heal right before your eyes. The charred skin knitted back together in seconds, smooth and unblemished, as if nothing had happened at all.

What the fuck?

It was in that moment that the truth hit you, like a thunderclap in your mind. You weren’t just an ordinary person caught in a nightmare. You were a mutant, with powers that had only now revealed themselves, right when you needed them most.

The men kept coming, but now you fought with a new understanding. Each punch, each dodge, each rapid movement felt more controlled, more intentional, your gym class self-defence courses coming in clutch. You were strong, faster than you’d ever been, and you could heal—regenerate from injuries that would have left others incapacitated.

Finally, the two men laid groaning on the ground, defeated. You stood there, panting, your mind spinning as you tried to make sense of it all. Super strength, super speed, regeneration… these powers, they were yours. And they had just saved your life.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, confusion set in. What did these men want with you? Why had they gone to such lengths to provoke you? To make you discover what you were capable of?

All you knew was that one thing was clear: this was far from over. Whoever had sent these men wouldn’t stop here. They knew what you were now, and that meant they’d come after you again. You weren’t just an ordinary person anymore. You were something else, something powerful. And that put a target on your back.

Whatever was coming next, you needed to be ready.

----

That’s how you found yourself here, one week later, crouched on the apartment rooftop, the cold wind nipping at your exposed skin. The dark streets below are eerily silent, save for the distant hum of traffic. You sense them before you see them—another group of male mutants, closing in on your position. You grip the hilt of your knife tighter, feeling the now-familiar twinge of anger and frustration settle in your chest. This is the fifth group tonight. They’ve been hunting you in groups for days now, their numbers increasing as each one goes by, and you’re tired of it.

You’ve started to get used to your new powers—testing your limits, pushing yourself harder with each confrontation. What started as simple self-defence, a punch here, a dodge there, has escalated into something far more lethal.

You didn’t want to kill, didn’t want to by use your sharpest kitchen knife (your only kitchen knife) as a weapon, but as the attacks became more violent, you found yourself with little to no choice.

These mutants weren’t holding back, and neither could you.

Within a week, you went from the most average person in the world to what some people might call a vigilante—except you're really only trying to save your own skin.

Leaping off the roof, you land silently behind them. The speed at which you move is almost dizzying, your body a blur as you close the distance in the blink of an eye.

“Looking for someone?” you call out sarcastically.

They turn, eyes widening in surprise, but you’re already moving. Your blade sings through the air, striking true, as you move like a shadow, taking them down one by one. It’s not easy—these guys are tough—but you’ve become tougher. With each strike, you can feel your strength surging, far beyond what should be possible. One of the mutants tries to block you, creating a forcefield, but you grab the edges before it can fully form, and break through it, the temporary pain vanishing as quick as it came. A solid kick to his face, and he crumples to the ground, unconscious before he even realizes it.

“Is this what you wanted?!” you shout, your voice echoing through the empty street as the last attacker falls to the ground, groaning in pain. “Is this what you came for?!”

The answer doesn’t come from them. Rather, it comes from a low growl behind you.

You whirl around, heart racing, and there he is—Logan Howlett—the Wolverine himself. The man you’ve read about in every article, every piece of mutant-related news you could get your hands on since discovering your own abilities. He’s infamous, pretty much a legend, and the stories about him are as terrifying as they are fascinating.

Standing there with that scowl on his face, he looks every bit the dangerous figure you’ve imagined. His eyes are blank, calculating, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as it sizes you up. There’s a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as he takes a step closer.

“So, you’re the one causing all this trouble,” Logan states gruffly, irritation coating his tongue. He unsheathes his claws, the adamantium glimmering under the streetlights. The sound is unmistakable, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Heard you’ve been killin’ off mutants left and right.”

You narrow your eyes, instinctively stepping back into a defensive stance. Your heart is pounding, but you can't show any weakness.

“Funny, I thought the same about you, Wolverine. What’s the matter? Run out of bad guys to play hero with?”

Without warning, he charges at you, claws outstretched, but you’re ready. You dart to the side, your speed giving you an edge as his claws slice through the air where you’d been standing, making a woosh sound. You counter with a swift kick to his ribs, putting your enhanced strength into the blow. He grunts, stumbling slightly, but quickly regains his balance. The momentary advantage you gained is gone as he storms toward you once more.

You meet his attacks head-on, your blade clashing with his claws in a shower of sparks. The force of each impact reverberates through your arms, but you hold your ground, refusing to back down. His attacks are ferocious, a whirlwind of claws and fury. He's fast, but you’re faster, dodging and weaving with a precision that keeps you just out of reach.

“Look, sweetheart,” he growls between strikes, his frustration evident. “You can make this easy or hard. I don’t care which, but I’m not lettin’ you hurt anyone else.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you deflect another swipe of his claws. “Oh, please. You think I’m the bad guy here? These jerks have been coming after me for days. I’m just defending myself.”

Logan doesn’t look convinced, and that pisses you off more than anything. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe you, why? You’re leavin’ a trail of bodies behind you.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling the anger boil over. “Because I’m not the one who started this! They did! But of course, you wouldn’t know that, would you? You just show up, swinging your claws around like you’re the big savior.”

“You got a mouth on you, don’t ya?” He retorts, snarling as he charges at you again, faster this time. You barely have time to block his attack, the force of his blow sending you skidding back several feet. But you dig your heels in, refusing to give an inch as he continues plows forward. Your speed kicks in, allowing you to duck under his next swing and land a punch to his jaw.

He staggers, but quickly recovers, swiping at you with renewed fury. You're a bit sloppy compared to him, not as much of a seasoned fighter. His claws swipe at your arm, cutting deep and drawing blood, but the wound heals almost instantly, the skin closing up as if it had never been cut. You see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it doesn’t slow him down. He lunges again, becoming a blur of motion as he ups the ante.

You parry with your knife, but this time, you’re on the offensive. You launch a rapid series of attacks, your speed and strength managing to drive him back. In the rush of movement, you're able to see an opening, grasping his shoulder and shoving him hard, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. The impact is enough to crack the brick, but Logan just shakes it off, pushing himself back to his feet.

“Gotta say,” you huff, panting slightly from the exertion, “I’m a little disappointed. I expected more from the you, after all I’ve heard.”

Logan grunts, clearly fed up with the banter. “I'm done talking.”

He lunges at you again, and this time, it’s a battle of wills as much as it is of skill. You don't back down, your knife clashing with his claws in a series of rapid, brutal strikes. The alleyway becomes a blur of movement, metal against metal, strength against strength. Each time his claws find their mark, your regenerative abilities kick in, healing the wounds almost as quickly as they’re made.

And for a moment, you wonder if you’ll have to kill him too, just to survive. But then something shifts. Maybe it’s the way your attacks grow weaker, less lethal. Or maybe it’s the way Logan’s eyes narrow in realization when he notices your hesitance.

“Wait a damn minute,” Logan says, stepping back just out of your reach, wiping his mouth, then spitting on the ground. He’s breathing hard, just like you. “You’re holdin’ back.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as they flick down to the knife you’ve been holding, and then back up to you. His expression shifts, a mix of disbelief and exasperation crossing his face. “And is that a kitchen knife?”

You glance down at the knife in your hand, realizing how absurd it must look in the middle of this intense fight. It’s not exactly standard combat gear, but it’s all you had when this started. You can’t help the smirk that pulls at your lips as you meet his gaze again.

“It gets the job done,” you quip, shrugging slightly.

He shakes his head, clearly not impressed. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I'm choosing to take that as a compliment,” The sarcasm is practically oozing off of you.

He eyes you warily, his posture still tense. “You’re not makin’ this easy, you know. You got me here thinkin’ you’re some crazed mutant killer, but you’re just a girl wavin’ around a kitchen knife like you’re in a bad horror movie.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I didn’t exactly have time to hit up a weapons store. Besides, I didn’t ask for any of this. These guys came after me first.”

Logan studies you. “So you say. But you’re killing dozens of mutants. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’”

“Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be doing this–fighting… killing–at all. Hell, I didn’t even know I was a mutant until some guy swung his fist at me a week ago.” You meet his gaze, challenging him. “And what about you? You’re not exactly known for playing nice.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, most of my casualties are from the missions I go on, so I'd say it's justified.”

Your eyes narrow, catching the implication in his words. “Oh, am I your mission now? How long have you been tracking me?”

Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a slight shift in his posture, a subtle acknowledgment that you’ve hit on something. “Long enough to know you’re not just some innocent bystander caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“So, what? You’ve been watching me, waiting for me to screw up so you could take me down?” you demand, the frustration clear in your voice.

“Something like that,” he replies gruffly, “But from what I’ve seen, you’re more reactive than proactive," he looks you up and down. "I can’t seem figure out if you’re the real threat here, or just someone caught in the middle of a bigger mess.”

You let out a slow breath, trying to calm the fiery anger rising within you. “I told you, I didn’t start this. They did. I’m just trying to survive.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, teeth grinding as he considers your words. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to piece together whether you’re telling the truth or just playing him. He takes a step closer, his claws still out but not as threatening as before.

Finally, he asks, “You got a name?”

You roll your eyes, exasperated. “No shit I have a name.”

Logan huffs, unimpressed by your attitude. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just gonna have to call you somethin’… How 'bout Knifey?”

You stare at him, half-expecting him to crack a smile, but he’s dead serious. “Knifey? Really?”

Logan shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he eyes your weapon of choice again. “Fits, don’t you think?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you my name, alright? Anything but Knifey.” You say, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“... Gotta say, Knifey sounds a little better”

“Shut the fuck up, Wolverine”

“It’s Logan, actually.”

You release a deep sigh. “I know, and I don’t care. I’m telling you I am not the one you need to be going after.”

Logan scoffs, crossing his arms. “I’ve been around a long time. Seen my fair share of people who think they’re doin’ the right thing and end up doin’ a hell of a lot of damage. So, forgive me if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of your mouth before you had time to think about them, and you regret it immediately. You can see the mutant in front of you’s face darken to a degree bordering murderous, and you think you’ve crossed a line you can’t come back from. Whatever playful banter existed before this is gone.

“Careful,” He growls menacingly, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You swallow hard. The Wolverine is infamous for a reason, and you just poked at the beast beneath the surface. You briefly consider backing down, but your pride refuses to let you.

“Maybe I don’t,” you admit, “But I do know what it’s like to be hunted, to have no choice but to fight back. So yeah, maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

Logan’s glare softens just a fraction, and he lets out a long, frustrated breath. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do ya?”

“Not when I’m trying to make a point,” you retort.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at you, as if he’s trying to decide whether to continue this conversation or end it with his claws. Ultimately, he shakes his head, the anger in his eyes dimming, replaced by something more akin to weary resignation.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Maybe you’re not the one I should be takin’ down. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start trustin’ you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” you reply, feeling a bit of relief that the situation isn’t about to escalate into another fight. “But I swear, there’s someone else out there pulling the strings. And I’m not sticking around to be their puppet.”

He nods slowly, crossing his arms again. “We’ll find out who’s behind this, but I’m callin’ the shots. You step outta line, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

You smirk, a little of your bravado returning. “I’ll try not to disappoint you, Logan.”

You can tell he doesn't appreciate your attitude, but he lets it slide. “Let’s get one thing straight. This ain’t a partnership. I’m doin’ this to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on, not because I like you.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” you shoot back, though there’s no real heat behind your words.

Logan turns abruptly, not even bothering to beckon you with him.

It makes you roll your eyes but you fall in step beside him anyway, knowing that despite the rocky start, this uneasy alliance might be the only thing keeping you alive.

“…So… where exactly are we going?”

He sends you a sidelong glance. "Who said I’m takin’ you anywhere?"

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "Well, if you don’t, these mutants are going to keep hunting me, and I’m going to keep killing them…” you shoot him a look, batting your eyelashes innocently. “You wouldn't want that, would you?"

“Fuck off”

"Well, too late for that now."

He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but it sounds a lot like cursing his bad luck.

"We’re headin’ to my place. It’s the safest spot right now."

----

Turn’s out, it’s not really his place. Or at least, it’s what you’d thought it’d be. It’s more of an abandoned warehouse that he just decided to seek refuge in one day, doing the bare minimum to make it feel at the very least, home-y. The heavy metal doors creak open, revealing a chaotic interior cluttered with garbage, old newspapers, and a few scattered items. In the corner, a single bed and a sagging couch that look like they’ve definitely seen better days.

Your nose wrinkles in disgust as you take in the mess. "Seriously?" you mutter, your voice tinged with disbelief. "This is where you've been hiding out? It looks like a tornado hit a thrift store."

Logan, who had been trailing behind you, lets out a low grunt as he shuffles past, not bothering to respond to your jab. His heavy footsteps echo in the otherwise silent space, the sound bouncing off the bare, cold walls. He heads straight for a small, battered table that looks like it's one sharp nudge away from collapsing. On it lies a worn notebook, its pages yellowed and curling at the edges, evidence of extensive use. Without a word, he picks it up and starts flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step closer, peering over his shoulder. "What's this?" you ask, reaching out to take the notebook from him. He hesitates for a brief moment before relinquishing it into your hands. As you flip through the pages, your eyes widen in shock. The notes are detailed, almost obsessively so, listing the names of various mutants, their abilities, and the exact locations where their bodies were found.

"Oh, great," you say with a sarcastic, half-hearted laugh. "You've been keeping tabs on me. What kind of creepy stalker are you?”

He rolls his eyes and snatches the notebook back, his voice dripping with irritation. "I wasn’t exactly tracking you. I was trying to track whoever’s been killing all those damn mutants."

Logan’s jaw tightens as you just continue to stare, and he lets out an exasperated sigh. "And don’t act all innocent. I needed to know who was causing all the chaos."

Scoffing, you continue to look through the notebook, stopping when you come across a particularly detailed entry. "Wow... 26 kills? Not too shabby for an amateur mutant, huh?"

“Is your mouth unable to stay shut?” he questions, though you know better than to answer that.

The notebook flops back onto the table with a casual flick of your wrist. "Hey, don’t be mad just because I’m doing a better job than you expected."

He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. "I’m not mad," he snaps. "I’m annoyed that you’re making light of this. It’s not exactly a high score to brag about."

"Oh, come on. You’re the one who turned this place into a shrine to my success” you smirk.

"It’s not a shrine," Logan growls, his patience wearing thin. "It’s a record. If you’d been paying more attention to what’s going on, you’d know that."

The playfulness fades from your face as his words hit home. He’s right, but you’re not about to admit it. Instead, you deflect. "Yeah, and if you’d bothered to talk to me instead of playing detective, maybe we’d have figured this out sooner."

"You think you’re the only one who’s had a rough time? This whole situation is a mess, and we’re both caught in it." His eyes narrow.

You cross your arms, mirroring his defensive posture. "You didn’t have to get involved, you know. Unless...what if you’re the bad guy here?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "Using all these mutants to lure me into your dungeon under the pretense of trying to ‘stop’ me?"

His response is immediate. "I’m way too lazy to think of doing all that."

You can’t help but believe him, especially given the state of the warehouse. He clearly lacks the energy—or the interest—to tidy up his living space, let alone mastermind a complex plot. You let out a sigh and walk over to the sagging couch in the corner. The fabric is threadbare, and the springs groan in protest as you flop down onto it.

"Fine, fine... I trust you," you concede, though your tone is far from serious. "Did you notice anything specific amongst these mutants?"

"Yeah, I’ve noticed somethin’,” Logan says, dragging a hand down his face, now looking more tired than ever. “They’re all pretty low-key. Not exactly top-tier in the mutant rankings. Never caused any trouble before, yadda yadda. If anything, they’re usually on the weaker side."

You furrow your brows, intrigued. "So they’re not a serious threat."

"Exactly," Logan confirms with a nod. "It’s weird. These mutants aren’t the type to just go around being fuckin’ annoying like they have been. Someone—or something—must be pushing them into this."

"You think they’re all being controlled somehow?" you muse, the pieces slowly falling into place. "And that’s why they’re suddenly acting out of character?"

"Seems like it," He replies, rubbing his temples. "Must be powerful if they’re all falling in line like this. We’re going to have to dig deeper to find the source of it.

He moves to sit next to you on the couch, the worn fabric sinking even further under his weight. "Tell me everything you know," Logan says quietly, his voice a tinge softer now, almost coaxing. "Everything that’s happened to you."

You sigh and lean back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you start to recount your experience. "It all began about a week ago. Just a normal day, I was walking to the grocery store, then I noticed this guy following me. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But no matter where I went, he was always a few steps behind."

His attention sharpens, his gaze locking onto yours. "And?"

"It started as just stalking," you continue, your voice growing quieter as the memories flood back. "Nothing violent. But then, it started happening with different people. Each time, they were more persistent, more intimidating. It became clear that something was off."

You can feel Logan’s gaze burning into you, his concern evident in the way he leans closer, listening intently. "Eventually, they started getting aggressive," you say. "One night, one of them blocked my path and tried to grab me. I managed to fight him off, but when he hit me, it didn’t hurt. I mean, it should have, he looked pretty strong, but my arm felt fine. That’s when I realized I had powers—some form of super strength, super speed, and healing abilities."

"And you figured that out just from fighting them off?" he questions, somewhat impressed.

You nod, rubbing your arms as if to ward off a lingering chill. "Yeah. I didn’t really have a choice. They kept coming, and I had to use whatever I had to protect myself—including my damn kitchen knife. The more I fought, the more I understood what I could do.”

Logan pauses, his expression unreadable as he processes everything you’ve said. The dim light from the single bulb casts long shadows across the room, emphasizing the lines of fatigue etched into his face. Finally, he stands up, his movements slow and deliberate. "So, here’s the plan," he starts, his voice rough and tired. "We need to figure out exactly where these mutants are coming from. There’s gotta be a main location where they’re getting their orders or some central hub for this control."

You hum in agreement, though a part of you is reluctant to jump back into action so soon. "Alright, so how do we start tracking that down?"

His lips press into a thin line as he thinks it over. "We’ll stake out the rooftops. From up there, we can get a clear view of their movements and see if they’re converging somewhere specific. Maybe spot a pattern."

You stretch, stifling a yawn as you glance around the shabby room. "Okay, but are we doing that tonight? I’m pretty beat."

“Seriously? You want to put this off?" he accuses, face twisting in irritation.

"I’m up for it, but I’d be more effective if I’m not running on fumes. Plus, you look pretty tired yourself," you shrug.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you sense his reluctance to agree. "So you agree with me," you state, not really feeling any real pride, but just wanting to push his buttons.

Logan grumbles under his breath as he starts to clear a space on the threadbare couch, which creaks loudly under even the slightest pressure. "Do you ever shut up? I’m letting you crash in my bed, aren’t I?"

You chuckle softly, watching him arrange a tattered blanket on the couch with exaggerated care. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Goodnight, old man."

"Watch it, Knifey," he mutters, settling onto the couch with a groan as the springs protest under his weight.

You roll your eyes at his choice of nickname, and with a sigh, you make your way over to the bed, which is small and far from luxurious, but it’s better than nothing. The mattress dips slightly as you climb in, and the covers are thin, barely providing any warmth. Still, exhaustion pulls at you, and you barely have time to think about what the covers smell like before sleep overtakes you.

----

pls comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the series taglist!

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bruisedboys · 1 year ago

Note

jealous finnick?

jealous finnick will be the death of me!!!!!!

finnick odair x fem!reader

Breakfast in District 13 is an unusual affair. Nothing like you’re used to, being from District 4. It’s the same every morning — boring grey oatmeal with either honey or berries, depending on the day. It’s only as you take your seat next to Finnick that you realise you’ve forgotten the very crucial toppings.

“Oh no, I forgot to get berries,” you bemoan. They’re definitely all gone by now, seeing as they’re in popular demand — the oatmeal served in 13 tastes like cardboard without them.

“Here, have mine,” Gale says from across the table. You open your mouth to protest but he’s already spooning a big heap of berries into your bowl. They bleed red and purple into your otherwise plain oatmeal. “I don’t like ‘em, anyway. Too sour.”

“Oh.” You smile at him, flattered. Gale’s been nothing but kind to you since you arrived in District 13. You haven’t put it down to anything other than friendliness. Though it’s possible you’re too enamoured with the blonde next to you that you’re completely oblivious to other men’s advances. “Thanks, Gale.”

Gales smiles back and shrugs. “No problem, Y/N.”

Next to you and unbeknownst to you, Finnick scowls. He hates that Gale’s so nice to you. Loathes it. He knows it’s because you’re a ray of sunshine who draws even the coldest of people in (believe him, he’s experienced it), but the fact that Gale gave you his berries before Finnick could even offer his makes his blood boil.

Who does he think he is? Everyone knows you’re Finnick’s girl, he’s made it very clear. It’s the whole reason you’re here, after all — Finnick specifically requested you be picked up from home before the Quarter Quell ended, to prevent anything from happening to you.

Breakfast passes without further incident. If you notice Finnick’s sour mood, you don’t mention it. You’re leaving the canteen with everyone else when Finnick grabs your waist and pulls you to the side, into an empty hallway. He peers over your shoulder to make sure Gale’s good and gone, watching the back of his head with a glare that could kill, before turning his attention to you.

“Finnick,” you say, clearly confused at his sudden manhandling. “What’s the matter with you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Finnick says shortly.

“You look mad.”

“I’m not.”

You squint at him. “You’re definitely mad. Why are you—?”

Finnick forgoes restraint and yanks you forward, pressing his mouth to yours before you can say anything else. His chest burns with molten hot jealousy, it climbs up his throat and pours into the kiss, hot and sticky. The heat ebbs though, when you kiss him back just as fervently, replaced by a fuzzy warmth only you can make him feel. It buzzes in his chest and down his arms, flares out his palm as he takes your face into one hot hand.

He pulls back just as suddenly as he’d drawn in. “You know Gale’s flirting with you, right?” He says abruptly, thumb pressed to your cheekbone.

You blink up at him, still dazed from his kissing. “What?” You ask, half laughing. “No, he’s not.”

“He is. He gave you his berries. I was going to give you mine.”

You raise both eyebrows. “He was just being nice to me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s my job.”

Finnick supposes he sounds quite pathetic. He doesn’t really care, not when your eyes go all gooey and you reach up on your tiptoes to push a curl from his forehead.

“Are you jealous?” You ask him softly, tucking his hair behind his ear. Your breath fans over his mouth and your hand lingers at his throat. “You sound jealous.”

Finnick rolls his eyes. “So what if I am? Just— have mine next time, okay?”

You smile at him, pretty as starlight. “Okay. But you don’t have to be jealous, you know? I only want you.”

Woah, Finnick thinks. “I know,” he says, too quick, his voice a notch too high.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Do you though?” You ask, definitely teasing now. He supposes he got off lucky, you could’ve done much worse finding out he’s so sickeningly jealous over Gale, of all people.

Still, Finnick narrows his eyes at you. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Your answering giggle is smothered as Finnick swoops in to kiss you again.

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 1 year ago

Note

hate sex. rafe or drew idc, u have total creative freedom w my suggestion!

Hate Sex

Pairing - Drew Starkey x costar!reader

Summary - good old hate sex.

Warnings - sexual intercourse, fingering, language, choking, name calling. 18+

The anger bubbled in your chest, rising up your neck leaving behind a dark pink tinge to your skin. You had never let Drew get to you this bad before, you were pulling at the roots of your hair just thinking about his punchable but good looking face.

“Breath Y/n” your friend stated, she had hidden herself behind the very small table in your trailer. She was quite frightened when you let your anger out.

She jumped halfway into the air when you threw your phone at the floor, shattering the screen in the process.

“Now look what that fucker has made me do!” You all but screeched, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to go and speak to him, how DARE he talk about you like that in an interview.

“Oh no no no, you can’t go speaking to him when you're this angry! He didn’t do anything wrong!” Your friend shouted, slamming her palm over her mouth when she realized what she let slip.

“How could you side with him?!”

“Oh come off it y/n, he said lovely things about you!”

“All very untrue things! He made me look like some weak girl who was falling at his knees.. no you know what I’m leaving!”

Before your friend could stop you, you darted out the trailer door and sprinted for him. Exactly 23 steps later your fist pounded at his trailer, you didn’t wait for him to answer and stormed in.

Drew stood in the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his lower half, steam filling the very small shower. Both Chase and Austin sat on the couch staring at you with wide eyes, the sound of the PlayStation in the background echoed through the deafening silence from the four of you.

“What’s up y/n?” Drew sang, giving you his famous boy next door grin. You just wanted to rip his face off but also kiss his face off.

“How dare you?!” You yelled, Drew’s eyes creased together in the middle as he looked at you in confusion. “Want to enlighten me on what I’ve done now sweetcheeks?” He chuckled, stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door. Your eyes dropped for only a moment when a bead of water ran down his chest and dissolved into the towel.

He gave you a knowing look that you shook off. “What’s all that shit you said in the interview?” You questioned, he let out a throaty laugh. Almost a cackle. This had you wild, you stormed towards him with curled fists at your side. “Don’t laugh! You made me out to be some weak girl, talking about how I’m the main person who laughs at your jokes on set, that I always get emotional at old couples!” You shouted, the old couple remark was true.

You did get emotional BUT that didn’t give him the right to tell people, it’s your personal life, personality. They get what they get, they don’t need to know the deeper version of you.

“Y/n, Come on. I wasn’t doing it out of spite” he stated, he was frustrated now. You always jump on him the second you can, yelling down his throat and making him feel like everything he does is wrong. “I honestly don’t give a shit! Don’t talk about me in interviews again!”

He rolled his eyes and looked over your shoulder at your friends, they had both gotten up ready to bounce. They hated being around when the two of you fought.

“Don’t roll your eyes! God! Drew you're so frustrating!”

“Me?! Me, frustrating? You talk some shit y/n, your always down my throat”

“Because you're always being so difficult!”

“Maybe you should lighten up a little and realize I’m a decent human being and your just angry at the world”

“Fuck you Drew”

“No, fuck you”

It happens in a split second, you're both reaching for each other. Your lips hastily press together, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. His hands cup your jaw, your tongues fight with one another. Even kissing, you have to be fighting.

“That’s our que” you heard from behind you, but you didn’t want to pull away. One of his hands drops from your face, grasping onto your waist he pulls you closer to his body.

“You're still annoying” you breathe, his lips trail down your neck. Sucking at the flesh between your collarbone and throat. Your nails scratched down the length of his back leaving deep red lines.

“You're still a bitch” he bit, pushing you towards the couch. Your back met the cushion with a thump, his body trailed behind closely. Parting your legs so he could slot between them.

You had forgotten he was only in a towel, which now parted giving you the most glorious view of his thick hard cock. “Shit” you whined, practically forcing his body down on yours. His hands bunched up your dress to expose your cotton thong, his cock nudged at your pussy.

“How can someone so annoying be blessed with such a perfect cock” you spoke, his chuckle was muffled by the skin of your chest.

“How can someone so frustrating be so fucking hot” he commented, his mouth left kisses along the apex of your chest. You pushed yourself to sit up, pulling the material of your dress over your head.

You now sat in just your panties, his hands palming at your breasts. “Fuck you” you moaned, his teeth pulling your hardened nub. Suckling at your nipple, while the other hand grabbed your ass cheek. “I’m getting their baby” he whispered, the pet name sending shivers down your spine.

“Touch me”.

His fingers dipped under the material of your panties, sliding his pointer and forefinger between your fold and back up to your clit. “Oh shit, yeah like that” you cried, grinding your pussy into his hand. Slipping his two fingers into your cunt, you bite down on his shoulder as he finger fucked you. Pressing the palm of his hand into your clit at the same time, sending your body into overdrive. “You like that? Of course the little bitch likes to be fingerbanged hm? Been thinking about these fingers inside of you huh?” He grunted, brows creased in the middle. He watched your face intently, the way your mouth dropped opened and you gasped for more breath.

“Answer me!”

“YES yes oh fuck yes! Wanted these fingers in me since I met you” you screamed, his dick twitching at your statement. Your moans bounced off the wall and you were sure everyone could hear.

He abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, a slur of protest fell from your lips. “What the fuck Drew?!”.

“Get up and sit on my cock, quit whining and do what I say for once you little slut”.

The vulgarity to his words had your insides fluttering like a damn school girl, pulling your panties down and straddling his hips.

Reaching between the two of you to grasp his cock, giving him a rough few tugs. “Fuck… what I’d do to have your pretty little mouth around my cock right now.” He groaned, his head arched against the backrest of the couch. You began to slide off him, his hands catching your hips before you could get on your knees.

“Right now I want your tight little cunt to sit on my cock, next time I’ll stuff your throat with my cock and make you eat the angry words that you constantly spit out”.

Your ears pricked up at the next part, unbothered by the way he spoke to you. “Fuck you Drew” you spat, his large hand held the base of his cock for you. The tip of his bright pink head nudged at your opening, you took him in painfully slow. Your eyes rolling back as his cock stretched you wide, your hands pressed against his chest for leverage. “Oh-h… oh” you cried, his cock buried deep within your walls.

He gives you a moment to adjust, eyes staring hard at your expressions. The moment your eyes reopened he was bringing your body up and down on him harshly, causing a string of curse words to slip from your mouth.

Your tits bounced in his face, you finally brought yourself out of the sex daze you had fallen into and moved your hips, grinding against him roughly.

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his throat, his eyes were wild. Dark and full of lust, watching you gnaw at your lip. “That’s it pretty girl, fuck my cock like its best goddamn cock you’ve ever had”.

Your nodding your head in agreement, “the best fucking cock, so big” you cried, unaware you had just agreed to him. You were so drunk on dick, you had forgotten how much he irritated you.

“That’s right, best goddamn cock you’ve had. Show me how much you love it” he ordered, and you obliged. Riding him like your life depended on it, throwing your head back. Your nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders, his fingers grabbing your waist tightly.

“Fuck! Just like that!” He groaned, his hands caressed your back. Ducking his head to envelope your nipple into his mouth. “Yes yes yes yes yes” you mumbled, your bodies had a light sheen of sweat to it. “Move” he order, pulling you up from his cock only to spin you around. Pushing your knees into the cushion of the couch and thrusting his cock back into you.

“SHIT!” You cried, clawing at the back of the couch. His large hand pushed you down against the couch, putting one of his legs into the couch to give himself a better angle to fuck into you. “Yeah you like it rough huh”.

The angle of his cock had you in tears, overwhelming pleasure coursed through you. “Of course you like it rough, you’re a dirty angry slut” He could feel you where close, the way your pussy walls fluttered around him, reaching around to grasp your neck and pulling out of you. “DREW! You asshole” you cried, the pleasure that had building in your lower stomach fizzled out only to reignite when his fingers closed around your neck.

“Jump”

You did as order and wrapped your legs around him, he slipped his cock back into you. Moving you both just enough so your bum sat against the bench, ruthlessly he fucked into you. Squeezing his finger around your throat, your own hand coming around to grip his wrist, you screamed and cried in pleasure.

“You dirty little slut! Who knew you were more than just a whining bitch” he spat, pressing his lips to yours before you could fight back. Your fingers scratched up and down his back, the only way you could tell him he was an asshole.

“Drew” you warned, your pussy walls pulsating around his cock and you chased your high. “You're gonna come? Go on then pretty girl, come around my cock” he urges.

His hips move faster and deeper, dropping his finger between you to fondle your clit.

“Holy shit! Oh o-oh!” You cried, letting the overwhelming pleasure knock you over. Curling your toes and tightening your legs around him, your pussy pulsated around his cock. Your nails dug deep into his shoulders trying to ground yourself.

He wrapped her arm around your waist tightly and followed suit, coming deep inside of you. “Fuck fuck fucking hell”.

His sweaty forehead met your chest, both your breathing labored. A few moments of silent breaths go by and he pulls away from you, helping you down from the bench.

“This doesn’t mean I suddenly like you” you comment, stepping around him to collect your dress. Rushing into the bathroom to clean yourself up.

A few moments and words to yourself go by and you open the bathroom door; eyes searching the floor for your panties.

“Looking for these?” He questioned as you stepped out, holding onto your thong with his finger like a prize.

“Fuck you”

“Just did”

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cursingtoji · 1 year ago

Text

as requested, a longer version of this drabble

synopsis: geto spared one woman from the village he exterminated due to the pleading of mimiko and nanako, now he has to live in between preaching a world without non-sorcerers during the day and sleeping with one during the night; a dive into the mind of a conflicted man.

cw: canon events (no major spoilers), death topics, fem submissive reader x cult leader geto, smut, oral (m -> f), 1.6k words.

part 2

The day was horribly busy, on days like these, where he had to talk in front of a crowd for such a long time, then entertain donors, then eat curses, Geto can’t sleep due to the loud noise of his mind, he would probably sleep if he was in a equally loud environment, but, except for the sound of your soft breathing, the room has dead quiet.

Dead quiet.

Geto sits up, the cold air hitting his bare chest as he takes in the sight of the red temple across the open window, a ruffling makes him draw and narrow his eyes to the figure in his bed.

He remembers the day he first saw you, trying to sneak in the room where Mimiko and Nanako were locked in, he was in the process of exterminating the people in that village so he didn’t think twice when he grabbed you by your hair ready to let a curse rip you apart but the deafening sound of the girl’s scream stopped him, only then he noticed a bag with food that fell of your hands.

He could see from a distance, you were like the rest of them, a regular non-sorcerer and a few minutes ago he decided what he wanted.

A world free of non-sorcerers.

He can’t make an exception. He shouldn’t.

The twins had tears in their eyes. They’re young and his responsibility now, so a helping hand couldn’t be a sin. He could leave you for last.

Somehow he finds in his heart to spare you, and once he consolidated his power as a leader, he took the three of you in, the girls only leave your side when he’s around, they don’t approach anyone else except the two of you.

The first week you were around sorcerers he could see the fear and confusion in your face. Nanako tugged his clothing and he squatted to listen as she whispered to him “She cannot see them”.

So he provided special glasses for you, one with cursed energy so you could see what people like you shouldn’t, and he made Nanako hand it to you as you slowly began to comprehend what the weird events around you actually were.

She should be thankful, she’s only alive because of me.

He thought about that constantly, especially when watching you smiling and minding your own business.

And you are grateful and respectful towards him, almost never making eye contact, just keeping your head down and only calling him “Geto-sama”, he appreciated that, you should know your place.

It’s only a matter of time before he grows fond of you too, with his influence and your submission, it didn’t take long before you were in his bed, being happy to serve him in any ways.

It’s a contradiction having you around, he knows it. A monkey.

You sleep so peacefully, he wonders if you understand how lucky you are to make it this far.

Tonight could be your last night on earth, how deserving are you to live in his ideal world? You have two little girls that adore you, is that enough? He could just tell them something awful happened.

His cold fingers trace the back of your neck, ghosting your cervical spine.

You fell off the stairs and broke your neck, so sad.

That’s believable, the temple has many stairs.

His index finds your pulsing point.

A man attacked you, another monkey, and cut your throat, how horrible.

His eyes drop to your rising chest.

You fell on the lake and drowned, a terrible accident.

There’s so many possibilities to get rid of you without them blaming Geto.

Warm fingers unexpectedly find his hand, your small hand covers his. Suguru feels his human side returning to him, the dark cloud over his head slowly fading away as you take his wrist and you turn your head to kiss his palm.

He feels like crying, confused and guilty.

The bedroom is dark enough for you to miss the look of despair in his eyes, he allows you to caress the veins in his forearms, tracing it all the way to his biceps until you find his neck with your arm completely extended. Suguru gives in to the light pressure you make, bringing him to lay back down with you. You kiss his shoulders, his chest, his neck.

He doesn’t feel worth your kisses.

Again the contradiction.

You kiss his jawline and he stops you with a hand over your lips, he doesn’t want you to feel the way his lips quiver, you don’t ask questions, just accept and kiss his palm again, holding it against your cheek.

Geto is hard on you sometimes, giving humiliating tasks such as cleaning up the remains of someone who wronged him or capturing a curse that will for sure attack you. As much as he sometimes thinks of creating a space between the girls and you, the little ones always find a way back, helping you clean while keeping a non-morbid conversation topic or helping bandage the scratches you got from the small but feisty cursed spirited you were assigned to.

Yet you never once complained, always bowing in obedience with a soft “Yes, Geto-sama” coming out of your lips.

He knows when to treat you well too, sometimes he knocks on your room at night, sometimes he sends someone to call you over to his. When his whole cult speech was over he would dismiss everyone except you, to be alone in the giant spacious room with him, he likes to take you there, where your quiet sounds of pleasure bounce through the walls and create an echo.

You’re good to him, not to his cause, to Geto-sama you’re useless, but to Suguru Geto you’re an anchor.

He returns your kisses, sucking on your clavicle then down the soft skin of your breasts, where he takes in one nipple and licks until it gets hard enough for him to gently bite on and make you gasp.

Your hands find his hair, his long soft locks, the same ones you brush ever so patiently when Mimiko and Nanako turn it into a mess of knots from braiding and tying tiny silicone elastics on, you don’t scold them, even if it means to stay hours with Geto trying to undo it afterwards.

They will grow up to be spoiled.

But he also could never scold them like a father is supposed to, deep down he knows he won’t need to, they adore him, anything he’ll say they’ll do.

They’re good kids, he supposes he owns it to you too.

Suguru leaves a wet trail of kisses down your body until he’s between your legs, he first starts by licking the surrounds of your clit teasing patiently as you get wetter, the sleepiness doesn’t allow you to protest or whine, only to close your eyes and take whatever he’s willing to give you while tangling your fingers in his hair.

When he finally gives your nub some attention in the form of sucking, your leg twitches, he squeezes it and places it over his shoulder, at this point he’s laying on his stomach vaguely thrusting his pelvis onto the mattress to relieve a bit of the aching in his cock he gets when eating you out.

He adds more tongue as he moves down your needy hole, which pulsates around nothing, Suguru hums nuzzling your glossy folds, the vibration goes straight to your hardened nub.

“Geto-sama” you moan when he fucks you with his tongue, the tip of his nose hits your clit perfectly, once he looks up to see you falling apart on him you shiver, his eyes are predatory, you wonder if you should retrieve your hand from his head, but he quickly closes them again, losing himself in the taste of you. God, you taste so good. What makes him get through the day when he has to absorb those disgusting curses is the thought of getting lost between your legs, sucking your nipples, eating his own cum off you, sucking your tongue…

He feels your orgasm approaching as you tug his locks harder, whimpering softly. Usually he would make you beg, stopping his ministrations just before you get there and delaying it until there are tears in your eyes. Tonight he’s enjoying the silence, he might just let you go ahead, but there’s something he wants to hear.

“Say my name” he orders with a raspy voice.

“Get—“

“No” he bites your inner thigh, “My actual name.”

“Suguru” you roll his name so beautifully on your tongue.

“Keep saying it” he dives back, making out with your pussy and paying extra attention to your puffy clit as you call his name in a prayer.

He misses it, the way his first name used to be used, nowadays is just “Geto-sama this, Geto-sama that, master, sir”. It would inflate his ego if it didn’t come out of monkeys' mouths.

But Suguru? He left that for you only, even the other sorcerers he considers family just call him Geto.

Before he realizes you’re already cumming, hole pulsating around his tongue and heels digging on his back. He slows down his pace, nibbling on your glossy lips then taking your hand out of his hair to kiss it like you did earlier, the act makes your heart swell, you caress his face, thumb rubbing the dark circles under his eyes.

“Suguru” you call his name again, this time looking straight in his eyes, they don’t seem predatory anymore as he moves up finding a safe spot on your chest, where he lays down listening to your heartbeat as your fingers work through the knots in his hair, this time caused by yourself. Your other hand caresses his back and shoulders, whatever skin you can find to soothe him. Now he doesn’t have the loud voices in his head and bitter taste in his mouth and manages to fall asleep again.

part 2 ->

#geto x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x you

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foldingfittedsheets · 4 months ago

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A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.

When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.

It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.

Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?

Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.

It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.

I stabbed him with his own pencil.

I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)

That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?

The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.

This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”

I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.

By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.

I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.

All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”

“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”

Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.

Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”

My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.

After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.

#ramblies #story #writing #ffs foibles #funny story #teen angst #arizona #impulse control

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luveline · 4 months ago

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hey! i wanted to request r with a best friend!marauder, and she feels guilty for being a clingy/touchy bsf? eg. always holds hands and loops arms together and loves hugs. but said marauder comforts her? thank you jadey

The steps off of the bus feel especially steep on just four hours sleep. You’re not dizzy, but when James offers his hand from the ground, you accept it. Much less scary to know he could catch you if you slipped.

“I’m surprised we weren’t holding hands already,” he says, giving yours a squeeze as you land, and pulling you to the side where the already departed rugby team and their family members wait for their luggage to be retrieved from the bus’ belly.

“Oh, I know,” you say. There’s an odd awkwardness to it that you’re trying to bury.

James is used to you. Your hand in his is casual, perhaps a little too much for company, but it’s just hand-holding. You like feeling that he’s near, the slight chill of British summer more readily suffered with his palm against yours. He runs hot.

He lets your joined hands swing gently with the wait, doesn’t bother letting it go until the luggage is all out. James grabs his duffel bag and your suitcase, and everyone makes their way to the hotel. It’s late —the team were expecting to be here much sooner but there had been a punctured tire, and then an accident on the M4. James will have to play the game tomorrow with less hours of sleep than intended, but he’ll play well.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet,” James says a little later, when you’ve shoved your suitcase under the double bed. He turns off the big light.

“That is an uncharacteristically large word.”

“Loser,” he says, pushing down the blankets to sit next to you. He rubs his mouth and nose, then he turns to you, all business. “You are quiet, though. What’s the matter? Still feel poorly?”

“I feel fine.”

“You look awful.” He winces at his own harshness. “You look upset, sorry. And you still have sleep in your eyes, let me–”

You sigh and tilt your head up for him to scratch the sleep from your eye. For a moment, it’s quiet, just your face in his hand, his fingernail against the delicate inside of your eye. “Do you ever think we’re too close?”

“Not really. Sometimes when you kick me in your sleep, maybe.” He takes back his hands.

“You don’t care that I’m, like, constantly on you? I don’t know, like earlier, when you helped me off of the bus. Most friends wouldn’t keep holding on to each other after, but we do.”

“Most friends wouldn’t take a nine hour bus just to see me play an away game, so…” James gives you a little poke in the ribs. “But we aren’t friends, we’re best friends. So what if we want to hold hands? That’s our business.”

You frown. “You really don’t care? Even when I’m harassing you for hugs and stuff?” Nausea sits in your chest, waiting for him to say, Yeah, actually, the hugging is a bit much.

“Babe, I love you,” James says, his glasses slipping down his nose as he gives a shake of the head. His eyebrows are pinched in confusion, but his mouth is softening. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“I just don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re never a burden.” He opens his arms.

You crawl into his embrace, reassured by his chin where it digs into your forehead, and his warm voice.

“You don’t bother me. We bother each other, right? We fight like kids. I love it, I wouldn’t trade our friendship for anything.” He pauses. Hums. “‘Cept a Big Mac. I’m starving, I can’t believe we got stuck on the motorway like that.”

“You’d trade me for a Big Mac?”

“In a moment of weakness.”

His smile curves against your head. His arms settle on your back. It’s the same as every other hug you’ve shared, warm and easy. “I wouldn’t,” he murmurs, “I don’t know why you’re worried about being too much, but don’t bother. You’re touchy, I’m touchy, we’re affectionate people.”

“I spent too long on that stupid bus,” you say, dropping your flushed face into his shoulder.

“You definitely did. Why would I care about you hugging me too much?” His hand moves gently up and down. “You give the best hugs around.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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jaggedamethyst · 1 month ago

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golden boy | jayce x female reader

1.7k words

content: fawk it, jayce making a damn vibrator with hextech…and suspending my disbelief that they even knew what that was and he legit created it idc!! walk with me girl!!!

18+ minors dni, angst, pathetic! jayce, kinda mean but closed off reader, pining (?), some fluff, smut duh, vibrator used on reader…also jayce is kinda a sarcastic mf here

notes: idk what came over me guys, but I feel like this could end up being longer than just a one shot bc the angst made its way in like usual. also jayce is a smartie pants, leave him alone guys.

update: part two is up now!

series masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He heard you before he saw you, your light saunter approaching him. Jayce had to immediately curse himself, because while he was rather smart, his reflexes were damn slow. He didn’t even think to cover his sketches before you were already close enough to crane your head over his shoulder.

A hand found his back, rubbing it encouragingly. “What ya workin on?”

Jayce was someone who loved to be affirmed. You both knew that. So before even registering the odd shapes you were looking at in his drawings, you wanted to let him know you were there and that any stress that lingered would soon dissipate. You were confused, then, when he rose quickly. He used his broad shoulders and back to block your view.

He smiled, clearly caught off guard. “Just some new stuff…you know…the mind never stops!” His cheeks soon blossomed with a rosy sheen across them. There was a sympathy in your gaze, but an even larger feeling of intrigue.

Jayce was easy to distract. As much as he loved to work on his creations and improving Hextech, he was also extremely needy. This often left him quite impressionable under your touch. Over the course of your relationship—which you would admit wasn’t actually a thing—you used this to your advantage.

You approached him slowly, an arm outstretched toward his face. He instinctively learned towards the palm of your hand. You intended to at least plant a kiss on his cheek, but he was a lost puppy these days. Just that action alone was enough for his body to relax into you. You had an opening. You slipped your hand behind him under the guise of stabilizing yourself on his workbench—grabbing a handful of the loose pages.

With a squeal you backed up, and spun around. “Wooooo what do we have here!”

“Wait-“ he turned between you and his work, “you tricked me?”

Holding the papers up toward the light to inspect them, you quirked a brow. “All in a days work, babe. Although…I don’t exactly know what I’m looking at here.”

Jayce was exasperated, how humiliating for you to have found these—even more that they weren’t even done. He was a scientist, after all. He needed time to finalize and test every possibility. He didn’t want to fight you for the papers—couldn’t really.

“Its just,” he sighed, “some stuff for you- or um, us?” He didn’t mean to sound like it was a question, a chance. It was definitive. He knew numbers and percentiles the same way he knew you. There was a desire there to be something more than just this. But he was entirely too passive to ever tell you. So he worked tirelessly at the only thing he knew you would show up and stay for. He didn’t mean for us to sound like a question, but it was.

You’d turned your back by then, the best angle of the sun shining towards your back and thus highlighting the drawings. Your intense gaze had faltered, your shoulders slumping. Like any other feeling you’d felt for Jayce in the last two years, you pushed it away—relying on humor as a shield. People are too fickle; you liked your independence and didn’t want to get hurt. Not again.

You ignored that feeling in your stomach that said to not be mean to him again, you knew he didn’t deserve it. You just couldn’t help it. Without acknowledging the weight of his statement, you continued, “what do they do?”

He senses your lack of focus, hastily snatching the pages from over your head. They quickly found their way back into a folder and cast aside.

“Well…its for,” his eyes purposely avoided yours. The ceiling was suddenly really amusing.

“Way to leave a girl hanging,” you scoffed, turning towards the door. “I just wanted to check in, but I will come back when I am wanted I guess.”

You didn’t take him seriously. That wasn’t new, but the feeling of wanting to do something about it was definitely a unique occurrence.

Before he could grasp what he wanted to say, the words flew from his lips. “Sit down.”

You stopped in your tracks, intrigued and slightly turned on by the firmness in his tone. “Scuse me?”

“You should sit…sit down. Over there.” He gestured towards a couch he’d made in his workshop. You complimented him on it once, knowing he’d made it just because he could. That was something you liked about him, undoubtedly. He had the capabilities to do so much more than he could even conceptualize and you wanted that for him. But the hopes for his future, rubs on his back, and longing gazes were too much for you.

Despite this, you were never one turn down a man like him finally standing up to you. You shrugged, “Sure, whatever…I’ll sit.”

“Good.”

The man turned quickly to retrieve one of the items he’d drawn in his sketches. This specific one was made with you in mind. It took so much dedication to perfect, but little effort to actually create, really. He’d think of your time together, the praise that would leave your lips each time he’d even breathe near your clit. The way your body would writhe against his. It was intoxicating. He figured something to make that even more special for you was due. But how could he just keep giving to someone who didn’t want to truly have him.

He wasn’t brainless. As much as he loved to hear it, being a good boy felt demeaning sometimes. He was a man, and he wanted you in a way you refused to see.

He’d show you.

“Take off your clothes.”

Jayce explained to you once that the body had red blood cells, that they carry oxygen. It confused you, now, because you were damn sure weren’t bleeding all over his chair and yet every single breath in your body was gone.

“What?”

“Clothes. Off.”

“In a I’m gonna experiment on you kind of way, or we’re gonna fuck kind of way because-“

“Both.”

You didn’t want to seem too eager, but damn you wished you had less pieces of clothing on right now. As you stripped, you were grateful then for the warmth of the forge. The sudden chill on your skin caused you to shiver. Jayce appeared suddenly, something in hand.

“I am actually not sure what to call this,” he showed you the object in the palm of his hand. It wasn’t very large, or maybe his hands made it seem smaller, you weren’t sure.

“Thats okay,” you leaned back on the couch, “show me.”

He was on you immediately, an eagerness on his lips you’d never felt from him before. You were usually the one in charge. So when he pushed you flat on your back, his clothes still on, you felt the difference. He’d swung his leg over you, now straddling you. You were too distracted by the kisses trailing over you to realize he’d reached between you two.

He made his way around your neck and toward your ear. “Let me know how this feels.”

You gasped, a vibration hitting your body unlike anything you’d felt before. Jayce was skilled in many ways but this was—wow. You met eyes with him, words struggling to form in your throat. Your brain seemed to have been empty, too.

He let the feeling pulse before slightly circling you, teasing you.

“So this, is what I have been working on.” He surveyed the way you gasped underneath him, looking into the distance. “Its not quite done yet, but I had to change some things here and there to make it better. Ya know, make it ergonomic, not too loud, stuff like that.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but all you managed was a frustrated groan. He was pissing you off. How could he be making you feel this good and talking like a fucking nerd right now.

“I also thought about sensation…what you like,” he smirked a bit. He was proud of himself. “Sometimes when you’ve had a particularly hard day, slow and deliberate does the trick, right?”

He continued to press into you, urging an answer from you. It was quite interesting how the tables seemed to turn but he didn’t complain. This is what he wanted—you helpless and confused under him while he ruined you for anyone else. He was tired of hearing how you couldn’t be tied down. Jayce Talis was no idiot, you were holding back.

“Isn’t that right sweet girl?” At the same time he questioned you, he’d raised the speed on you. A buck of your hips immediately after. “You don’t have to answer, I know.”

Sweet girl. He’d never said that before. The undertone of him trying to rile you up while simultaneously being his usual endearing self was too much. Your hands had found your face, a sudden embarrassment looming over you. That didn’t stop him.

“But, because I care about you feeling good, I added another feature.”

You felt the continuous sensation increase sporadically and then back down, chocking out a whine.

“Intuitive right?” He used a free hand to brush the hair from your collarbone, latching his lips there. He spoke into your skin, “Essentially, I used the Hextech to not only control the stimulation but to work at the users command with little effort.” He paused, wanting to see you. “So when I do this,” a surprised yelp from you, “or this, you really feel it.”

He’d never been more proud. You were often one to lead him, and he liked it. But now, with you here helpless, he couldn’t help but urge you on. He continued to ramble, speeding up to a pace he knew left you unraveling.

You couldn’t take it. It took everything in you to get the energy to yank his hair and finally speak, “Jayce-“

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Can do,” and with that, he sucked down on your chest. He knew you’d loved that.

The entire ordeal felt like years when in fact, it had only been a few minutes since he started in on you.

“You go ahead and finish, I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t much longer before the heat in you exploded, a series of groans clawing its way from your vocal chords.

He’d continued to coax more from you, he felt he was owed as much.

Eventually sleep overtook you, the man recognizing the familiar lull that creeped up on you.

He spoke, mostly to himself, “we’ll talk later.”

You replied, to his surprise. “Sure thing, golden boy.”

part two

#jaggedamethyst #angst #arcane #jayce talis #arcane jayce #jayce talis x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce league of legends #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x y/n #golden boy

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soov · 2 months ago

Text

RUMOUR HAS iT。 park sunghoon

princess fem reader & prince sunghoon ᗢ 1OOO words ━━ fluff ꕀ royal!au, arranged marriage, repost ⌗ WARNiNGS pet names, kissing.

“I suppose you know about the rumours by now?”

The prince’s deep voice tugged you back to reality, making his presence known by leaning onto the same balustrade as you.

“Why do you think I would’ve called you here if I didn’t?” You asked back, to which he responded with a smile, looking at the scenery in front of him.

Sunghoon appeared somewhat unkempt. His hair dismissed the usual slicked-back style, soft black bangs falling on his eyes. He had a white linen puffed-sleeve shirt on, with the first three buttons undone. Once, he had admitted that he owned twelve of the shirts, them being his favorite piece of clothing.

As your stare lowered, his high-waisted black pants and boots piqued your curiosity, “What is the reason behind the informal clothes?”

“Why the question?” He turned his head in your direction. “You also have an informal attire on, my love.” Sunghoon still had a cheeky beam plastered across his face, attentive eyes observing the way you toyed with his sleeves.

“My maids said that this color and dress would look good on me.” You reasoned and pushed one of the puffy sleeves slightly up his arm, tracing the delicate veins enmeshed beneath his flesh. “I asked because I only see you wearing this outfit when it’s your birthday or a commemoration.”

“They were right; you do look good.” He seemed to be enjoying how you were caressing his arm. His muscles flexed and relaxed every time you touched him, making him feel like you were painting a masterpiece across his bare, pale skin. “And well, it is a happy day for me.”

“Even with the rumours?”

Right. The rumours. The gossip that spread around the castle like wildfire about the soon-to-be King and Queen that didn’t truly love each other, only keeping up their looks because of diplomatic problems. That, and the supposed cheating accusations, claiming that you were seeing a close friend behind the prince’s back.

In part, it would’ve been true if the false talk started a few months ago — though only the comment about real love being absent in your relationship. You used to think that the boy was a spoiled little brat who leeched off his parents’ high status. Yet, you fell right into his trap when your arranged marriage was announced.

With his eyebrows tied together and the smallest pout, Sunghoon gave you his trademark confused face. “Why would they matter? We love each other and will get married soon, isn’t it? Let them say whatever.”

The raw and honest responses from Sunghoon were one of the many factors that brought him to the center of your heart. His unfiltered remarks, reminding you of your infinite worth (his words, not yours), slowly guided you to the path without return that is loving him.

You huffed out a breath. There were a bunch of servants whispering and stroddling through the garden close to the bandstand where the both of you were. If Sunghoon wasn’t right next to you, you would have cussed them out, even knowing that you couldn’t. They were your fiancé’s people, and briefly, they would be yours too.

“I don’t appreciate how they talk so lowly about us…” You mumbled, chin on your palm. Neither of you were big on PDA, that was a fact, but you wondered if it was that bad to make the word even more convincing. “I just wanted to shut their mouths and show them that we long for each other.”

“Do you, now?” Sunghoon grinned, embracing you from behind as his pointy nose went to your neck. “We could give them a little sample of our love.” He muttered, the low timbre of his voice being more than enough proof of your effect on him.

You nearly choked on your own breath, a lump closing your throat. “I thought you were uncomfortable with showing affection in public?” The words left your mouth in a nervous whisper when he gently turned you in his hold to face you.

“Princess,” he began, the pet name almost sounding sardonic due to your title, “that was seven months ago. I hated you at the time, you know it. But I only want to kiss you right now.”

There was something in his eyes, blended with the dark brown hues and the sparkly melted stars that captivated and hypnotized you. Sunghoon was so intense that you could never bring yourself to break eye contact, or reply coherently, when you were drowning in his gaze. A nod was all that came out of you.

The prince chuckled, the act so genuine and lovesick that your knees threatened to falter, “You’re so annoyingly beautiful.” He voiced, and leaning in, his lips parted to taste the sweetness of your mouth.

With a gasp, you carded your fingers through his raven hair. It had gotten so long in such a short time. The only place that your hands went to during your kisses was in between his locks.

A soft rumble escaped his chest, body beginning to relax when you played with his hair. In a second, Sunghoon cupped a side of your face in his palm, still being smug enough to slide the other to the small of your back, gripping that part. A smirk curled his lips up as he felt the low cut back of the dress, tracing your skin like you did to his arm earlier.

His actions induced a shiver to run down your spine, and you couldn’t do much except feel yourself covered in goosebumps. Softly, gently, slowly — that was how your fiancé enjoyed kissing you.

“Sunghoon…” Tugging at the loose collar of his shirt, you tried to regain your composure after the scandalous scene. “Did they go yet?”

Your breathy voice calling out his name only fueled the pure adoration the man felt. “Not yet.” He hummed, glancing at the flustered maids that giggled amongst themselves. “Seems like they’re slow walkers.”

“At least that will make them stop talking.” You grumbled.

He squeezed you tighter in his arms, almost trying to express the extent of his feelings in the way he held you. “It surely will.”

And it didn’t, since, now, rumour has it that the prince is too greedy to go for only a single kiss.

𔓕　LETTERS FROM REi ━━ i wish prince sunghoon was real (work inspired by mr. queen!)

2024 © SOOV

#ㅤ𝓡.#enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fluff #enha x reader #enha fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon drabbles #enhypen #enhypen x you #sunghoon #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x you #enha imagines

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beesspacedotorg · 10 months ago

Text

Third Leg?

Summary: after spending time with Minho after exams, you remember something he said in the heat of the moment about your packmate Jeongin. You decide to confront Jeongin about it, because after all, what's the worst that can happen?

Warnings: sex. uh. poly ot8 and reader. more omegaverse. continuation of Dibs but can be read on its own. breeding kink?? manhandling ??? reader is lowkey a brat, uh. Jeongin's dick is huge. I actually don't know what else to add, so let me know if there's another thing I should put in here. reader is an omega but gender and genitals are unspecified as always

notes: I got possesed by a demon when I was writing this. I don't even have a breeding kink. Also if the title is bad, no. this is my first time writing Jeongin, so if it's bad no it isn't. this is his very late birthday present. Happy Birthday, King.

to read: Dibs

In most things, you try to be reasonable. It does not come easy to you, it doesn’t come easy to most people. You wish your pack would be more understanding of this sometimes. You know that’s an unfair thing to say about, to say to, your pack, but you can’t help it. You really don’t want to, you really can’t spend Jeongin’s rut with him. It’s the middle of the semester, you’re still convinced the Luna doesn’t like you, and you’d prefer not to think too hard about your relationship with anyone else. You’re comfortable with Hyunjin and you’re comfortable with Changbin. Everyone else, you think, couldn’t care whether you were around or not.

“That’s unfair to think, dove. Of course they want you around. We want you around.” Hyunjin says, he’s holding your face in his palms in a way that he often does when he talks to you.

“I know, but I really don’t feel comfortable yet, it’s only been a couple months, and it took me so long to get used to being around you.” You huff and you can feel a heat forming behind your nose. “I just really- I don’t want to spend Innie’s rut with him. I can’t.” Hyunjin hums affirmingly and swipes a finger under your eye to cut off a tear, but otherwise makes no comment about your crying.

“You want them to stop pushing,” he says, and you nod at him.

“I want them to stop pushing.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do. But, please don’t say we don’t want you around. We do. At the very least, I do. Okay?” You nod at him and smile slightly as he kisses your nose, it turns into a laugh when he gets insistent, peppering kisses all over your face until you’re shoving him off and smiling wide at him.

“So.” You have a spoonful of cereal halfway to your mouth when he comes into the kitchen. In all reality, you aren’t supposed to be here. You only stopped by for a quick snack before you went to head into work, but then there was something at the shop so your boss told you to stay home. You’d intended to detour to the campus library instead to catch up on some homework, but between your first and second bowls of cereal you had switched out of your outside clothes to sweats and an old t-shirt, and now you’re standing three feet away from Yang Jeongin.

“So?” You set the bowl down on the counter.

“You don’t want to spend my rut with me.” You draw your shoulders up to your ears defensively. You think something in your scent must turn sour because you see Jeongin wrinkle his nose.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not mad or anything. I just wanted to know if you’d tell me why.” You pause, picking up your spoon and stirring the milk around the bowl, listening to the clink clink clink of metal on ceramic. Something about his question confuses you.

“If?”

“Yeah, ‘if.’ I don’t want to pressure you for information if you’re not ready to give it. If you’re uncomfortable with spending my rut with me, that’s fine. If you don’t want to tell me you’re uncomfortable, that’s also fine.”

“I don’t want to tell you why.” He shrugs. You’re surprised at how easy that was.

“That’s fine. I have another question though.”

“Hmm?”

“Could we hangout, or something? Before you steer clear of the house for a week and a half, I want to spend time with you. Unfortunately,” he rolls his eyes, “I’ve come to enjoy your company and if I don’t spend some time with you I might do something drastic.” He’s slowly approaching you now, crowding you against the counter. He’s given you plenty of time to walk away or move, but you haven’t, so he continues.

“Drastic, you say.” He hums, taking your bowl and putting it in the sink, not bothering to rinse it out.

“Drastic like breaking every single door that separates the two of us just to make sure you’re safe.” He wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder, nose against your neck. His hair smells like baby powder, like his shampoo that you and Hyunjin sometimes steal. You can feel him shake with laughter when your scent changes with arousal as he gets in your space.

“You’re easy.” You hit his back slightly.

“You’re mean.”

“Will you hangout with me, though? I was mostly serious.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll hangout with you.”

“Great,” he says, and you let out a small shriek as he drags you in the direction of his room. The door is halfway closed when he yells across the house.

“I call dibs until my rut starts!” You can hear the groans and complaints through his now shut door.

So, you spend time with him, both before and after his rut, and nobody comments on how annoying it is that you’re monopolizing his time like you thought they would. There’s a point where Hyunjin interrupts you because he wants Jeongin’s dick in his mouth, and when you move to leave, they both start complaining. (You left anyway, not being ready for that just yet, but the idea made you feel warm regardless.)

You don’t get to spend much time with him after that though, because then you have Minho and exams flooding your vision and your senses, and while one of those things is enjoyable, the other isn’t and for two seconds you’d like your brain to be off. Just for two. That time comes and it’s as you’re waking up from your post-fuck nap with Minho that it hits you.

“You said Innie was talking about me during rut?”

“What? Sweetheart, we just woke up.” Minho is rubbing his eyes, smacking his mouth, and blinking cutely. You feel the urge to pinch his cheek but worry that would land you in hot water so you just poke it instead.

“Yes, I know, I know, but. You said Jeongin was talking about me during his rut.”

“Yes? Why do you sound so surprised? You’re our Omega after all.” You flush again at his casual claim on you, he keeps catching you off guard with it.

“He never mentioned it to me.” Minho yawns and slings his arm over your waist.

“You were busy, of course he didn’t mention it to you. Besides, you seemed so … hesitant to spend his rut with him in the first place that he probably didn’t want to mention it at all.” You frown, brows furrowing as you think about it. You move to get out of bed when Minho stops you.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“To talk to Jeongin.”

“It’s too early for one, and for two. I have some things planned for us.” His hand wanders up your shirt.

“But-”

“I thought you had learned enough to stop arguing with me? Does your mommy need to teach you a lesson?” He says this, but he’s not holding you back. If you wanted to, you could leave this bed and camp outside of Jeongin’s door until he woke up. But you don’t. You don’t even know what you want to say to him, and Minho is tracing soft circles on your skin and you’re struck with undeniable want. You ease yourself back into bed.

“That’s my pretty Omega. So good for me, hmm?”

You don’t get to talk to Jeongin until several days later. You’re too busy sleeping like the dead for a day and a half, then Chan steals you away for a celebratory dinner date, then when you finally get the chance to talk to him, you walk into his room and find him and Yongbok making out, so you’ve had to curb the conversation for later, until now.

“Innie!” He’s slipping his shoes on.

“Yeah?” He never ties them, you notice, ties them once and then slips them on and off over and over again.

“Where are you going?”

“On a walk.”

“Great.” You walk over to him and shove his jacket off his shoulders, then kick at his feet until he takes his shoes back off, and start dragging him to his room.

“What.” He’s confused despite the fact that he’s the one who let it get this far.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Okay?” He sits down on his bed, patting the spot next to him so you can sit too.

“Minho mentioned that you talked about me during your rut.” It comes out of you in a rush. Jeongin’s face flushes red. He covers his face with his hands, his huge hands with their stupidly long fingers.

“Ah. Yes. I did. Are you upset?”

“Am I up- Am I upset?” You’re incredulous. “One of the hottest men I’ve ever seen and one of my Alphas wanted me during his rut and you think I’m upset?”

“Okay, to be fair. You didn’t seem too thrilled about the idea of my rut to begin with.”

“I was new to the pack!”

“You’d been with us for three months!”

“Like I said, new!” He huffs and knocks you onto your back, laying across you in the way you’ve seen the others do to him.

“Why did you come to talk to me about it?” You flush at his question and you can hear his little chuckle. The members joke that he learned how to be mischievous from Minho and Seungmin, and you’ve never seen it more than right now.

“Oh? I see.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“Minho hyung says you like when people are mean.”

“Minho said what?!”

“I’m kidding, he refused to tell us what you two got up to, but now I know that I’m not too far off.” You grab a pillow from behind your head and smack him with it. He moves himself until your noses are touching and smiles at you. You smile back and poke around his face until your finger lands in a dimple.

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?” His voice is soft, low, because of how close he is to your face and he smirks when your scent fills the room.

“You do?” You nod at him and he tuts.

“Minho’s taught you better than that.” You huff and pout at him. He laughs and kisses you.

“I’ll let you get away with it because you’re cute.” You beam at him and he smiles back.

He starts with kissing you, because of course he does. It’s soft and sweet and a little hesitant and it’s similar to the way you’ve seen him kiss Yongbok, but different from the way you’ve seen him kiss Seungmin and you’re struck with the realization that he sees you as something soft and precious. That he’ll hold you with the same amount of delicacy he uses to hold Felix and your heart stutters in your chest for a minute.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” He’s pulling away, looking at you with wide eyes as your scent changes. “Did I hurt you?” You shake your head at him, pulling him close for a hug for a minute as you calm yourself down.

You’ve never had a pack before, your culture has moved away from it. You had to move from your family for school and since then you’ve been relatively alone. It’s been a while since you’ve felt loved, and when you’re faced with the sheer amount of it the eight of them have to give it overwhelms you every time. He hasn’t hurt you, it’s the opposite.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Ah, I see. Hyungs’ said you might cry a little. That’s okay. Do you want to stop?” You shake your head at him, answering with a verbal “no” after he stares at you pointedly. You lean in to kiss him again and he responds with the same gentleness he did before and you can feel yourself slicking up in your pants. You hear him take a sharp inhale and then you feel his grip tighten where his hands were resting on the side of your face and neck.

“Jesus, I can see why hyung keeps you to himself all the time. You smell so fucking good.” He stops kissing you to start making out with your neck, you can feel him starting to scent you and you tug at him, whining.

“Innie-”

“Yeah, I know, but-” he cuts himself off with a groan and you can feel his hips press into yours and dear God.

“Is that your leg?”

“No.” You whine again. There’s no fucking way his dick is that big. You tell him so.

“Well. Prepare to eat your words because it is.”

You huff at him again, and really, he should spend less time around the more sarcastic pack members because his attitude is making your eye twitch. He sees it and smiles mischievously at you before landing a soft peck right below the same eye.

“I’d like to see how you handle Hannie or Seungmin hyung. They’re worse than I am.”

“They also probably move faster than you do.” He grumbles at you at that and gets to work undressing the two of you. He’s sliding his hoodie off when you’re filled with the urge to bite his biceps. They’ve gotten bigger since you’ve been introduced to him and you think it’s crazy because you hardly ever see him work out. Suddenly, there’s a large palm against your forehead and any forward movement you had started is quickly stopped.

“What are you doing?” You can feel your teeth click together as your mouth closes and you blink a couple times.

“Nothing.” He squints at you.

“You were going to bite me, weren’t you?”

“No.”

“You’re a liar!” You’re being manhandled now, and you refuse to go down without a fight. You grab a pillow and nail him in the face with it.

“I am not! I’ve never- don’t pull my hair- I’ve never lied!”

“You’re doing it right- why are your nails so fucking long- right now!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Did you just fucking- ow! What the hell?” You finally manage to get your teeth on his arm and it’s just as great as you imagined it would be. Your victory is incredibly short lived because between one second and the next Jeongin has you pinned to the bed. Your cheek is pressed against the mattress and he has your arm twisted in a way that’s mildly uncomfortable, but that’s overshadowed by how you can feel him pressed against you to keep you pinned. He’s all lean muscle and you can feel where his shoulders press against yours and where his cock is pressed against your ass and if you tilt your hips just right, you can feel him brush against your slick hole.

“Oh? Does my pretty Omega want something?” You can hear the laughter in his voice. You can also hear how it’s dropped three octaves and you can feel it rumbling from his chest. You can feel how his cock is starting to leak against your skin.

“Jeongin-”

“I think,” he grabs your other arm, pinning your wrists at the small of your back, “that if you want anything you should beg for it.”

“Innie, you’re not being fair-”

“I’m not being fair? You bit me. I have you pinned. If you want anything from me, you’re going to have to work for it.” You turn your head into the mattress and let out a small sob, wiggling a bit in Jeongin’s hold. His hands loosen on your wrists and he lifts his weight off of you enough that you could get out if you wanted to. Minho did this too, gave you signals with his body to let you know that it was okay to not want it, the problem is that you do. You like how Jeongin has you pinned, and you like the humiliation that’s going to come with begging for it.

He notices you haven’t moved and so his grip tightens on your wrists again. You feel the chuckle he lets out as he presses his weight down onto you again and you know your scent must be doing something because he inhales with his nose pressed straight against your neck.

“Get to begging, baby. I have all night.” You whine at that, wiggling and trying to push your hips back against his to fuck yourself onto his cock, but he pulls his hips back, readjusts until you couldn’t reach his cock unless you dislocated something and he laughs at you.

Jeongin does have all night, it turns out, because you spend a considerable amount of time with your forehead pressed into the mattress trying to will the shame that comes with wanting out of your body. At one point, he asks you if you’re alright, dropping the act for a bit and when you respond he resorts to taunting you.

He’s doing it now, taking his ridiculously large dick in his hand and gathering some of the slick that’s leaked between your legs to jerk it. You can hear the wet noises it’s making and you can’t help but think of how much louder it would be if he were actually fucking you. It turns out that your Alpha was thinking the same thing because he starts talking, and each word chips away at the lump in your throat.

“Fuck, you smell so good, baby. Your slick is so warm, I bet it’d be warmer if I got it straight from the source, yeah? What do you think? You’re leaking so much you’ve made a wet spot on the bed, maybe I should fuck that instead, since you wanna be stubborn.” You whine in response.

“No? You don’t want me to do that? I think I should. Or should I just finish on your back?” Your next answering whine is more of a wail.

“Oh, I see. You’re a little cumwhore is that it? Want me to come inside of you? Hmm? Get our Omega pregnant?” You moan this time, drooling onto the sheets. Jeongin grabs your head and turns it to the side so he can see you better, or so that you can see him and how he’s about to waste his cum on you instead of in you. The drool smears onto your cheek and you can feel your eyes start to well up with tears because you know he’s close.

“Please.” It escapes from you in a pathetic whimper and the hand that was stroking his cock pauses.

“What was that? I don’t think I heard you.” You know he did, but you also know that if you don’t repeat yourself and beg good enough he really will make good on his promise to finish on your back and leave you there.

“Innie, Jeonginnie, please. I want- I want-”

“Want what? Hmm? A slice of cake, a new Minecraft update?” You huff at his mocking, but it’s too wet to really hold any weight, and you can feel your lip wobbling, so you’re not surprised when what you say next is more of a sob than anything else.

“Your cock. Jeongin, Alpha, please. You said you wanted me during your rut, don’t you want me now?” It’s a low blow, and even through your desperation you know that, but you’ll do what it takes to get him to finally stick his huge dick in you.

“Oh, baby. I do. Don’t worry.” His fingers are searching for your entrance, stretching you out just enough for it to not burn too bad, but you’re so wet, and both of you are so needy, you know that you’ll just have to deal with the pain of not preparing for his stupid dick later because you want it now.

“Then,” he made the mistake of letting go of your wrists to grab your hip instead, and you ball your hands into fists and hit the bed in frustration, “why aren’t you fucking me?” He huffs a laugh.

“All that and you’re still giving me trouble? You’re lucky you’re cute, Omega. So lucky.” You start to kick your feet at him but you’re stopped by the fact that he’s slowly starting to push into you, making a home for himself inside your body and slowly forcing the breath from your lungs.

It burns, and you expected it to with how unprepared you were, but it feels good and you don’t care so that will have to be a later-you problem.

“Jesus, you feel so good, baby. Better than I imagined.” He starts a rough rhythm right off the bat, and you’re needy enough that it doesn’t bother you, besides, you’re pretty sure he was edging himself earlier, so he’s entitled to this.

“Felix hyung and I talked about it, you know. When I was in rut. You left.” The last part comes out as a soft growl, and he coughs to get himself in check before pressing a soft kiss between your shoulder blades.

“You left and I thought about how warm you’d feel inside. Felix wondered too, said he wanted to know how sweet you were.” You hear him chuckle. “Y’know I got him to come untouched from just talking about you, pretty baby?”

You gasp, letting out a shuddery moan at that, and you hear Jeongin laugh above you. You were already halfway to delirious with how good he was fucking you- hard enough to shake the bed and bang the headboard against the wall- but something about knowing that the pack wants you always makes you just that much wetter, always makes your head that much lighter, so you can’t help but clench down around his cock and get everything around you soaked with more of your slick.

“Jeonginnie, Alpha, I- please- I want to-”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead, baby. I won’t make you beg for this one.” He presses himself down against your back, knocking your knees out from under you so you’re flat against the bed and have nowhere to go, nothing to do but take it.

“The next one, though. I make no promises.”

The new angle has you going dumber than you were before and you can feel Jeongin’s breath in puffs of hot air against your neck. You whine at him, moaning as you’re trapped underneath his body and when you come it’s with white spots dancing across your vision. You’re just coming down when you feel him start to pull out and you surprise both yourself and him with the growl that comes out of you.

“Yang Jeongin, so help me God if you do not come inside of me-” He shuts you up by doing just that, bullying his knot into you until it pops and rolling the two of you onto your sides so you’re not laying in the multiple spots of wet that have stained his sheets.

“You’re bossy.” It’s said against your hair while his stupidly big hands come up to massage the crick in your neck that’s finally made itself present. “How do you get away with that when you’re with Minho hyung?”

“I listen to him. Mostly.” He pinches you, you pinch back. You sit in silence for a minute.

“Was it good? Or, as good as you imagined?” You try not to sound insecure as you say it, but you know that you’ve probably missed the mark.

“Better. Way better.” He kisses the spot he was just massaging and winds his arm around your middle. “Nap time. You’ll need your energy when I get you back for being a little shit.”

“I wasn’t.” He scoffs at you.

“Yeah, sure. And my name is Chan.”

“Hi, Chan, how are you?”

“Cancel what I said earlier. The second we aren’t locked together anymore I’m kicking you out.” You laugh at him.

#bee blurbs #ft.innie #a bee o #yang jeongin x reader #i.n x reader #i.n x you #yang jeongin x you #yang jeongin hard thoughs #yang jeongin smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #skz x you #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut

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logansdoll · 5 months ago

Text

ivy, l. howlett

typically saturdays are for relaxation... not treating car crash victims.

CW: canon typical violence, gore, guns, mutation, profanity, innuendos, mature themes, mentions of sex, y/n is very poison ivy-esque, jean grey exists but is not present, etc.

The longer you lived in the mansion, the quicker you realized you'd never get a true day to yourself again.

You tied up your hair with a heavy sigh, the click of your heels loud against the steady beep of the man's EKG.

Calmly, you glanced at the monitor, soft eyes combing over his QRS complex in an attempt to double check for any abnormalities.

His mutation was one you had never seen before, and you wanted to make sure it didn't affect the efficacy of your data.

Despite being a victim of a nasty car accident, his heartbeat, along with his many other vitals, were ones of a person with a perfect bill of health.

'A healing ability along with his claws?'

Looking up, you held your hand out to the small philodendron across the room, using your power to grow one of its stems and reach toward the table, grabbing the parts for a syringe and bringing it to you.

"Thank you, Phil," you hummed, carefully returning him to his pot.

What would really back up your hunch would be a blood sample...

Expertly, you assembled the injector, doing so with perfect ease as if you'd done it a hundred times before—which you had.

Once it was done, you gently slid your hand under his arm, turning it over to reveal the veins near the crease of his elbow.

You held the needle at the ready, just inches away from pricking his skin, before thoughtlessly glancing up at his face.

For about the sixtieth time in the hour.

'Damn...'

He was absolutely, positively gorgeous—the handsomest man you had ever seen.

Rugged, hunky features with sexy facial hair to match, paired with thick arms, delicious pectorals, and abs carved out of stone.

'You've had a chance to gawk... now back to business.'

Clearing your throat, you quickly shook yourself out of it, refocusing on the task at hand and pressing the needle against his skin.

Big mistake.

In an instant, he was awake and jumping off the table, the shock forcing you to drop the needle as he grabbed you, slinging his arm around your neck.

Eyes wide, you quickly reached out to Phil, the small plant quickly growing humongous right before your eyes.

The mystery man stared at it, brows furrowed in confusion, until one of its newly acquired vines shot straight for his head, forcing him to let go of you and dive out of the way.

Gasping for air, you thankfully clutched your throat, attempting to catch your breath as Phil's limbs chased the man out into the hall.

'The professor'll stop him from hurting anyone upstairs... hopefully Phil can grab him before then...'

Slowly starting to recover, you grasped the table's edge, using it to hoist yourself back up on your feet, grumbling to yourself about how rough he was.

Suddenly, the vines began to recede, one of them resting on your shoulder and blooming a flower.

"He made it to the elevator?" you parroted, turning to the plant and catching the blossom as it gracefully fell into your palm, reporting the new development.

You let out a knowing sigh, already able to foresee the scolding you were about to receive from the team's leader.

"Scott's gonna kill me..."

Why did shit like this always happen to him?

It was beginning to become routine for Logan to wake up in unknown places, with people he's never seen before, yet people who seemed to know everything about him.

"I'm Charles Xavier. Would you like some breakfast?" the old man in the wheelchair asked, cool as a cucumber despite the strange man standing in his office.

"Where am I?" Logan asked, brows furrowed and eyes flicking around the room in an attempt to find some sort of clue.

"Westchester, New York," Xavier answered, wheeling out from behind his desk. "You were attacked. My people brought you here for medical attention."

"I don't need medical attention."

The old man made a small smile, "Yes, of course."

He seemed to have an answer for everything...

Suddenly, the memory of a little stowaway popped into Logan's head, reminding him of the precarious situation she was in.

"Where's the girl?" he asked again, still looking around.

"Rogue? She's here. She's fine."

"Really?"

Just then, the door opened, a woman with stark white hair strutting in with a man—who had the weirdest sunglasses in the world—at her side.

"Ah, Logan, I'd like you to meet Ororo Monroe, also called Storm," Xavier introduced, Ororo greeting him with a soft hello, "Along with Scott Summers, also called Cyclops."

Scott held out his hand to shake, but was met with a suspicious glare that held little to no warmth at all.

"They saved your life."

That is... until you came walking in after.

"And I believe you've already met Dr. (y/n) (l/n)."

His eyes flicked to yours, and there he saw the most beautiful woman he had seen in a long time—and trust, he had seen plenty.

The way your curls framed your face...

The way your clothes accentuated your figure...

The way your skin seemed to glow, despite being indoors...

You looked like you stepped out the pages of a beauty magazine, or the screen of a blockbuster movie.

'Damn...'

He wasn't one to stare, but you made it hard not to.

"You're in my school for the gifted. For mutants," Xavier continued, stealing away his attention. "You'll be safe away from Magneto."

"What's a Magneto?"

"A very powerful mutant who believes that a war is brewing between mutants and the rest of humanity. I've been following his activities for some time. The man who attacked you is an associate of his called Sabretooth."

"Sabretooth?" Logan raised a brow, amused.

The professor nodded, and Logan quickly turned to Ororo, pointing, "Storm," he clicked his tongue.

He faced Xavier again, donning what seemed like a rarely occurring smile.

"What do they call you? Wheels?"

Letting out a dry laugh, he started toward the door, done with the conversation.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

But Scott didn't move out of his way, instead standing firm in his place.

"Cyclops, right?" Logan grabbed him by the shirt, roughly. "You wanna get out of my way?"

"Logan, it's been almost fifteen years, hasn't it?" Xavier stopped him. "Living from day to day, moving from place to place, with no memory of who or what you are."

Logan whipped around, facing the professor with a sharp glare, "Shut up."

"Give me a chance... I may be able to help you find some answers."

"How do you know?"

On cue, Xavier's voice began to echo in his mind, whispering words that didn't seem to come out of his mouth.

'The hell...'

"What is this place?"

By the professor's powers of persuasion, he managed to calm Logan down, filling him in on everything about Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and convincing him to compromise long enough for you to finish your tests.

Which was why he was now back on your work bench, staring up at you intensely as you removed the small, plastic patches from his skin.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, seemingly out of nowhere—but he honestly felt guilty for nearly strangling you to death.

You knew that... but you wanted to hear him say it.

"Sorry for what?" you asked, innocently, as you plucked off the last few.

"If I hurt you," he clarified, pointing to your neck.

Pleased, you gave him a warm nod, flashing a small smile before turning and starting up the MRI.

Maybe he wasn't so bad after all...

"So... you couldn't wait to get my shirt off again, huh?"

'Never mind.'

You glanced back at him, letting out a soft scoff at his gall before pressing the button and sending him sliding into chamber, abruptly.

Once he was fully in, you headed over to the viewing room next door, where the others waited for you to explain what they were seeing.

"The metal is an alloy called adamantium. Supposedly indestructible," you started, looking at the X-rays of his skeleton. "It's been surgically grafted to his entire skeleton."

"How could he have survived a procedure like that?" Ororo asked, concerned.

"His mutation," you answered. "He has uncharted regenerative capability, which enables him to heal rapidly."

You crossed your arms over your chest.

"This also makes his age impossible to determine. He could very well be older than you, Professor."

"Who did this to him?" Scott asked.

"He doesn't know, nor does he remember anything about his life before it happened."

"Experimentation on mutants," Xavier sighed, thoughtfully. "It's not unheard of... but I've never seen anything like this before."

"What do you think Magneto wants with him?" you asked, worried.

A face off with him would spell doom for Logan.

He could very well just rip the metal bones right out of him, form a skewer, and impale him with his own skeleton.

'Gross...'

The thought made your stomach churn.

"I'm not entirely sure it's him Magneto wants..."

#wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #james howlett x reader #james howlett #mcu x reader #mcu #x men x reader #x men

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watashijeon · 1 year ago

Text

Mon Ange. | KTH

listen while reading — Is there someone else The Weeknd

— I made you mine, or so it seemed. I might as well be two feet tall. You never will love me at all. —

You’re calling out for his name, nothing can kill this moment. He feels sweetness and ease.. never has he let himself slip. But tonight is his birthday or so it was hours before.

Nonetheless, nothing could kill the stillness.

"Hm?" he’s mumbling with his speech, nose buried into pretty flushed skin. He feels confused, feeling you still when your words came out so blurred in his mind.

“I have to tell you something.”

Completely lost now where this was going, he stills his touch. Awkward and stiff, you make eye contact for what you are about to say.

He doesn’t understand the build up, he just wish you would say what it was. Maybe you had to take some time away from him due to your work.. he understood, he didn’t mind that.

"I think we should end our arrangement."

Oh. It’s so different from what he had just suspected, why does his heart feel like it just plummeted to another oblivion of nothing?

Taehyung doesn’t care, he’s undisciplined and chaotic with his very few next actions.

You need to leave. Freezing up, ready for his immediate impulse, because you know him like the back of your hand. The man picks you right off from his lap, rather rough and he would have time to regret on the meanness of it later.

He’s quick to pointing his hand open palm stiff and stern to the now sad wrinkled dress on the floor that laid lonely.

“Well, go on then.”

Your eyes looked at him pained, you had not a clue what his reaction really meant but you moved. Wiggling on your dress, back faced to him before looking once more to see his distracted stare. He is so out of it now, he doesn’t know.

“You understand.. right, Tae?” oh why must you speak so sweet to him using his shorten nickname in that especially nauseating sweet voice, even the way you are ending this is a million times nicer than he has ever ended a fling with a person.

“I do, bye.”

He’s being so mean, harsh and rude.

Taehyung hopes you won’t dwell on it or let it hurt your heart like it will to his very own.

But somehow he wants it to pain you, make you feel the same burn and ripping he feels in his chest right now. What did he do wrong?

“Goodbye Taehyung.” and that was it, the door clicked and so did his very front one. Left with the forbidden but likely delicious and perfect red velvet cake you’ve made, and a gift that sat perfectly next to it wrapped in his favorite color for wrapping paper on his kitchen island.

And indeed you had to make his favorite cake flavor, meaning you remembered the stupid detail when he told you on a night together.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

He remembers so clearly on the morning you stayed after for the first time coming over for six months. The two of you had lazed in his bed between tangled limbs and sheets “I will, I will protect you.” your lips dropped into a pout tracing your nimble finger over the man’s jaw.

How could you even say that when you leave him not much later, he doesn’t get it. This isn’t like you at all. Maybe being in pained denial he couldn’t accept the sore fact that someone made the first move on with abandonment.

You weren’t supposed to lie, it’s uncalled for and unacceptable. But even deep down the man knew he was being ignorant, he’s lied to many people to avoid hurt and it was his own field of career to lie if necessary.. that’s all you were trying to do.

The man can’t dare to muster up to think you have a bad bone in your little body that was filled of nothing less of kindness. But right now he won’t be rational with his assumptions.

He’s angry and selfish with dire need for your presence now all over again, no matter the situation that this is. But whatever really, big deal that you are gone. He will find someone else to fuck his life into, you are no different from any other living human with a hole.

…

He pauses.

Never mind that, fuck that. He deserves a good and perfect reason for why you did this.. leaving him in the dark, quite literally. Taehyung can't stand not talking to you even if he never took time to speak so much into your conversations. He still appreciated all of your efforts and presence you put into whatever what you had was, now it’s all fucking gone.

He used to act upon impulse when he would have multiple play things through out the month. But you, you make him stop to think. It makes him wrinkle his nose because he does not have a clue why you turn him to be this way. It’s simply you being you, no spell.. no great manipulation in your words. Just you.

In the beginning of this arrangement he was reluctant given the age gap, especially with the relation that you were a long time family client of his.

Once he became enthralled with someone.. he could say it took a lot to kill it.

You weren’t the only one that had the privilege, he’s turned thirty two this year and definitely doesn’t have enough fingers to count on with how many girls he has used up and nicely dumped off to the side — kindly.

Sparing the honest reason that he needs to focus on his career before weeks later he would latch claws into his new toy, it’s only painstakingly different now.

Much different because he had never held onto a “toy” for over a few months at a time, the man liked variety and trying new things. With you in the picture, it was sickening at the fact that he grew real attachment to every little thing about you. It made him want you more. While he is nothing great of the sort for you, he was only a warm body to give you what was desired. You gave him your body and time, in return he would give you lust driven pleasure.

He was the one who established what you two were from the great beginning, he was not allowed to feel betrayed and cheated. Someone could hate him and he would cackle at that, a girl could scream at the stoic man and he’d chuckle again. Once you lose his interest there is no winning him back, it's as if getting stuck in a never ending pit of quick sand that could swallow you in pitiful eyes. He thinks it’s valid to feel this way, he’s coming to terms with the whole ordeal of what all this was.

Being your damn family lawyer and you had met him when you were the young age of nineteen, a mere baby. It definitely took some time for him to be ok with the fact that he would end up fucking you almost weekly with your given age — he’s not a pervert.. right? But you were a mature girl as you grew up, he liked you for this reason.. different and good for whatever he wanted and still you set healthy boundaries not letting him walk over your toes.

Time will pass nicely, right? He will be fine and move on — find someone even better. A little reflecting won’t hurt his soul.

It has been a little over two months since the grouch for a man has seen you, turning slowly into the twentieth century version for Scrooge.

Promising himself each day he would not give in and call you, you will be the one to run back.

He’s been saying that to himself since the day you up and left.. now his very once high and wild ego was now dwindling day by day and he is pissed beyond belief, because wow, wowww. You really did leave him as if he planned to do the exact for you in the beginning of meeting with you, that was before he caught a liking and it was only for your body, of course.

Yes.. that’s what is was. It was only really your gorgeous body that gave him pleasure to see you again and again, never mind the fact of your amazing personality or one of a kind glowing aura that brought a sweet genuine smile on his usual crest fallen features.

Broken from his reverie he’s receiving a call, he’s been sat still buried in his office since six am. It’s how he gets through his days to not think about you or testing the waters of calling.

The phone clicks and clatters, he needs to get himself a new desk phone or better yet just buy another smartphone. Huffing and puffing, he inhales and exhales seeing the caller id.

“Hello, it’s been awhile sir.”

It’s your father, he has to fake a front for the sake of niceties and also being civil because your very own damn dad has been using the Kim’s for any law or business relations since Taehyung was probably born, he’ll complain and grumble later on to a nice white wall of his.

“Oh yes! Things have been crazed.”

Taehyung really wonders about that, a hotel tycoon can only get so wild and crazed.. right?

“Hmm, I understand. What can I help you with.”

“Ah, Mr Kim. let’s get down to it—“ the grinch for a man licks and licks his lips again out of great big habit, becoming nervous of the lingering for just how long it takes this man to get to a point. Many clicks and clattering over the other line.. the older would continue.

“So, I need to talk through some paperwork with you regarding about merging contracts.”

“Go on, sir.” he can’t be this vague.. come on. Shouldn’t he know better than to speak so small about important shit, god help his ticking time bomb for patience being not a virtue.

Ping

If silence could kill it would be deathly here and now, he receives the paper work faxed over. A skim and scan later — Taehyung feels his heart plummet to places beyond his comprehension.

It’s just so now, he realizes your father has been blabbering about whatever this whole time.

“What is this all for?”

His eyes ogle and ogle for more than a few times he could count, reading the bold letters of “Marital License and Contract Briefing.”

“Well if it wasn’t obvious, our dear y/n is going to get married next month. We have set her up with the perfect man who is a well respected hotelier heir, a perfect match for our family.”

Of course.. of course your father would set you up with a person that is in the same position of business as him, you probably had no word or real say in this. God, why does he feel wrath and anger. He wants to rip his hair out straight.

He should be happy for you, your new husband to be probably feels like home in his arms.

So much that he bets he mends you with warm healing long hugs, and utterly disgusting kind smiles that remind you of honey mixed into sweet vanilla, your very two favorite things.

He continued to offer your father a tight-lipped smile as if he could see him through the phone, briefly looking up from the contracts on his computer screen — faxed papers sitting nice and crisped on his desk. He thinks it’s best he ends this call now before he yells off.

“Ok sir, I’ll look over them and we will discuss the terms and things that will be strewn.”

“Oh that is great to hear! I invite you over tomorrow for tea, we will discuss all of the paperwork then. Yes?”

He won’t allow himself to think about that, he will agree just to get off this damn phone call.

“Yes sir, I’ll see you then, good night.”

Click.

He’s here, he can’t believe he actually came.

Sat in the way too high ceilings for a living area, he will blame it on why he feels this nauseated. God, he knows you live here obviously. It’s been your parents odd and traditional rule until you were ready to move out when they thought it was best, you always said that was why you still stayed with them. What he didn’t know was the bizarre underlying conditions were marriage.

“Ah Kim, here we are.” The meeting begins and ends with the blink of an eye.

It went awful in Taehyung’s eyes, he really didn’t want to hear about you getting married off for a great three hours. It left the man wanting to seethe and bite his mouth off until the older would finally shut up to take a puff or sip of liquor.

Then on he tried to laugh with your father.. even when it felt as if pearly teeth might crack with only how hard his jaw flexed shut.

Your father welcomes the man to stay over for only awhile longer, he won’t accept it, kindly.

He has to get going.. because someone (Taehyung) couldn’t handle on what all just happened. While the hag of your father thought it was a good idea to step out and take a call.

15 minutes before

It’s been minutes now and your father isn’t back, Taehyung decides to dwell around with his eyes to gawk at the various family portraits hung from generations before and other astray framed photographs of little you and family.

He has the urge to trace his finger along the frames but he won’t, definitely not now.

“Tae..?”

Like clockwork, Taehyung’s head cocks in nanoseconds to the spiraled staircase you stood by, gripping on the bar to keep stance.

You look gorgeous right now, still the same as before. He can’t help but let his eyes trail over your legs, he’s no better than any other man. He decides he can’t stare for much longer though, clearing his throat to cock his head off to the side in mimicking a fake neck crack.

“Hello.” he decides on, licking lips for the trillionth time and resting hands into pockets.

Your stare doesn’t stutter elsewhere, you copy him yourself — licking lips except only slower and more tantalizing. Or that’s how he sees it. He hated confrontation, one of his favorite things about you though.. is you’d ask too many questions every time you were around. He’d act like he hated it, but bathed in the attention and attentive wide eyes you once had all for him.

It’s only none of the many questions you’d ask would ever provoke the man to deflect, bother him up the wall and make him drop you soon later in his own sheer annoyance like usual. It’s happened to others, he’s an asshole but he could care less because at least he is honest.

Seeing you now gives him bitter sweetness for deja vu, the memory to when he saw you for the first time when you were eighteen — never having an ounce of interest in you then. You were a pesky teenager though, ogling the man like sweet candy for your taking. Nothing unusual he hadn’t encountered before.. only ever moving forward to do his job and ignore it.

That helped some.

Both of you finally interacted properly then when you were twenty, clear that you had matured fast and you were well with holding good conversation. While.. your dear father ran around with his head cut off like a chicken and leaving a bored lawyer Kim to wait for set business meetings to be done, you were lovely company at least.

Then somehow.. something happened, the day where he took your virginity in your childhood bathroom — it was your 21st birthday after all.

It was almost too universal how the world wanted you two to be alone at this awful time. But the moment happened so fast maybe too fast if he wants to dwell on it now, only once comforting the weeping girl that trembled in his arms to have you seconds under his grasp.

You had to, just had to look down at him with those puppy dog eyes choking a mere sob of “Am I not important.. is that what it is Tae?”

God he hated how you said his name, so sweet and quiet. Full of vulnerability and sadness.

He couldn’t allow a pretty girl like you, sobbing over something so minuscule on her birthday, he had a great plan of course. Comfort? No.

Fuck the sadness out of you, it will do you well.

It’s shameful at how he’s too old for your young sweet heart that still had much to see and live.. he’s nothing but rotten fruit at best.

But why did he want to stay selfishly so.

Your eyes did it in for him, they always did..

Corny and sappy he thinks.

He tries to move on with the passing thoughts of why do you need to be claimed now when he was starting to think he could have tried. He hopes you had at least one passing thought yourself of the what ifs and hows.

Present

All but nothing of silence settles between the two of you, no words are exchanged past that.

Eventually steps dissipate further from him to hear, you leave after the stare off you both shared — thankfully your father interrupts.

It’s been a few hours since you last saw him, you knew way before he was going to dial your phone. Doing exactly this, after your third attempt to ignore the countless calls you press accept to hear the expectant drawl of your name in stupor.

You’re sure he’s grinning dumb and widely boxy, almost as if youth takes over for these very small tipsy minutes. His vulnerability is clearly yours now, it’s so viable at how bad he is vying for attention.

You prepare yourself, clearing your throat and speaking as clear and stern as one could be.

“Hello?”

“Hmmmhmm, hello.”

There’s a pause, awkward, but he’s drunk so he likely doesn’t recognize the rising tension.

“Yes, Taehyung?”

There’s a giggle..? Oh my god he just giddily giggled at your voice. No, no your heart isn’t doing backflips — you’re just concerned.

“At your door, open sesame.” you can hear him try to knock like a madman — even if there’s visibly a buzzer that’s meant to be there so insiders could hear from the size of your parent’s insanely huge home.

Drunk Taehyung doesn’t know that though.

Fuck well, ok you guess. Thank god your father isn’t home for the night — you begin to panic but you can dissolve situations fine, it’s your strong suit or one of the many of them at least.

You practically lunge from your bed to tumble over down the stairs, trying to keep him half entertained while you tunnel yourself to the door before the maids could see the odd sight.

Being quiet as you can be with unlocking the door, Taehyung makes it no issues to pull a dramatic scene. Already seconds in through the door staring you down, like any other would be scared of the predatory stare.

But this is Taehyung, he would never hurt you.

All you can do, Slowly watching him advance at you skittering back until you’re pressed to the wall. He doesn’t touch you, leaned against the victorian wall with each hand on either side trapping you between him.

He won’t stop there yet, drawling your name out in a drunken purr “Aw-huh. Angel, you got yourself stuck..what are we going to do now?" like no moral was ever created — toes curled into wooden floors from the deep baritone voice awakening all of your weaken senses.

You try, trying so damn hard and ignore it.

Staring hard into empty eyes, his bags are awfully visible and you wonder if he’s even slept lately.

You’re so tiny and frazzled by his abrupt actions, feeling him slide a warm hand up to your stomach to trail barely under your tits. The same said empty eyes sharpen at your slip of a pathetic whine, closing you into the wall a tad too close for comfort to make you both bump into each other’s chest.

“Wanna fuck this pretty cunt again.”

His words boom into you everywhere, from head to toe and places you wouldn’t like to acknowledge that throbbed with need. Doomed, definitely, that’s what you are.

You can only exhale feeling a warm shiver travel down your spine from the daring slip of drunken tongue. Able to pull enough strength to squeak a soft response “L-let’s lay down.”

It was your best bet to avoid from ruining your impending future, you won’t allow no more mishaps to happen. It’s all for your father.

He settled off with a hum, you were surprised he’d backed off. Maybe the man recognizing the nervousness in your tone, “Lead the way.”

It’s quiet now, too tense for your liking but you can’t do anything you think to help the off situation. Laid in your bed next to each other with a foot of space between your bodies.

It’s uncanny how alike this situation reminds you of some movie you watched with the man.

You feel like you’re steps away from saying the infamous line of “Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off.”

You won’t have a second to think longer when the big bear decides to speak up into the unknown of silence that had lasted for a long hour, “I get it.. yeah, you don't love me, big fucking deal.”

Silence, absolutely nothing back.

“I’ll never tell you how I really feel, angel.”

Your breath was being held for seconds until he decides to follow with cockiness, there it is.

Always showing a slip of vulnerability followed with the man being plain rude. It’s the way your eyes roll that cause a gasp to stutter from him, almost like he didn’t expect your attitude nor harsh yet honest reaction.

He won’t comment on it properly, never does.

“Hold me.” he mumbles while simultaneously grumbling, trying his definition in hard to get you closer than whatever.. this is. Your brow ticks at him head shifting to properly face his pouted features from his side profile, feeling up for the need to deny him only a bit.

“What? Stop mumbling.”

He won’t take a pause this time, thankfully.

“Hold me goddammit.” he huffs and puffs out even louder — yet incoherently all in the same breath. Taehyung coughs, trying to clear his throat and mocks you with a roll in his own eyes of annoyance, like you did something.

That time you did “hear” him and you did what was asked by the big grizzly bear, only you turned to him closer now — seeing that wry smile on his cruel but godforsaken pretty face.

The spiral begins, you and him are going to give into this hell of fire.. only letting it grow uncontrollable by the end of night.

Are you going to do well without me?

Are we ever going to be okay?

Will we ever be fine?

You were too good to be forgotten in his heart.

It was too quiet in this room, silent and tense.

Taehyung felt nothing but regret, fucking stupid as he closed his eyes and mumbled these pitiful words.

Stupid, as he continued to speak gibberish into the room. I feel stupid. I am stupid.

You finally give up on the swallowing of the never ending silence and endless mumbling under his breath, tongue dry trying to clear your throat so to maybe finally speak — maybe even summon him back, and he does. It works because he lets his eyes finally open back.

You tug him into your chest wasting no more time when there’s not much, arms wrapped tight around his stiff figure that takes only just a minute to loosen once he realized you weren’t going to push him back anymore.

It’s not much different though, his nails still pierced into his forearm with thin lips folded into teeth to feel anything but what this is right now. You were staring at him, Taehyung, your father’s lawyer, your first crush and realization that you really only like and desire older men.

Now wishing you’d rather have gone to therapy instead of pursue that day in the bathroom.

You don’t mean that actually, you just hate yourself at this very moment and so does he.

But this wasn't the Taehyung you knew, wasn't the same man with styled hair and sultry eyes.. looking now as real life death in your arms.

You weren’t trying to be harsh nor hateful, you were worrying your heart out and confirming all the racing thoughts you have figured to be maybe going on. Only for them to come to life. He looks unreal tonight, almost unnatural from his usual sun kissed skin. No more sharpness to his look, the man looks fucking sick.

You want to coddle him to death, your own heart feels like it’s going to lurch right out from it’s chest by any second now if he keeps looking at you with those sad puppy dog eyes. This was not the look you yearned to see, you hated it all so much.

“Well.” clearing his throat, trying to prove something into air. Maybe it’s a lawyer instinct.

You repeat back to him without a beat to really think, “Well..” you use the same tone of voice but maybe yours wavered more in raw pain. The man wordlessly continued to stare like always, holding your hand tight in his grip in bringing it up to his lips. You should reject his warm touch, leave even, run far.

But why are you still laying here.. melting away.

He was being this gentle and just careful, you would giggle if the situation weren’t tense now.

Long fingers playing with lips, digits ghosting over your cheek with a soft caress. You can’t help but shut your own tired eyes, melting more and more and it was just like that.

His control is gone, so fast and fluidly when your lashes fluttered to cold skin. Whispering his name too sweet and soft almost in prayer.

"We can’t.. it would be wrong.” it’s insane how you knew his intentions from the speed his hands traveled to the material of your night dress.

"So fucking wrong," he becomes almost too ready with heavy pants of hot breath kissing your jaw and neck.

Eager calloused thumbs rubbing circles into your hips that were on the brink of trembling.

You whine at the tone he uses, becoming easy to his invasion "Don't.. don't speak like that." Eyes heavy lidded, lips licking with each breath that exhaled from your stuttering chest.

He wants you dead it seems, feeling up your body more and more by every passing second before easy fingers would get to your chest.

"I'm wrong like that.. you like it," the man preaches with determined digits this time skimming back down onto your hips to hear his favorite strangled whines "you want it.”

"Ah.. T-tae” it’s pathetic.. sounding asthmatic in your own ears from mere fingers grazing you rough.

"Who's married? Certainly not you, yet."

You pause to mull it over, eyes falling into his.

He truly doesn’t care now, past gone. Nothing can stop this — you need him.. your sweet eyes tell almost all too fucking well for him to know.

He's moving on autopilot when he pulls you to him with no awareness of anything around him, the man frenzied with his only living goal to feel you wrapped around him. Whether it be with loose limbs or his all well endowed cock buried deep between warm tightness, he needed to feel you again.

Your gasps fall out too soft to be surprised at the sudden roughness, murmuring whining moans that fell into a mantra of "We can't..” tiny cries that quickly later start falling into hungry kisses while neither of you had an ounce of intention to stop, no matter the end of it.

Lips already collided against each other in a perfect mess of motion, tongues lolled out of your mouthes as the pleasure binds you both.

It’s disgusting now, strings of drool dribbling to your chest from every pause he took to pull and nip. The man grabs your scalp, yanking you head back against his shoulder. Jaw slack open to give him the prettiest mouth for him to gladly spit right down onto your tongue, so pathetic all for his demise.

Doing all the nothing but moaning and swallowing, open mouth with all your might.

Leaving a desperate plea in sparkly eyes while you wait impatient for his next move, you missed him. Eyes yearning and lips quivering, legs shaking so early on and yet.. your spine just might go limp quite soon.

You whine almost instantaneously and nothing less of desperate while the devious man began to nibble harshly down on your neck with small bites of love.

Moving on nothing but anger and bubbled feelings at surface, shoes being removed, with the stubborn zipper of your night dress slipping down from your shoulders as hungry lips explored every inch of skin that became exposed.

So quick, licking a wet stripe down your chest to stomach to feeling you shake with desire and need, tasting the want for you on his tongue.

“Hmm, your poor husband to be.”

He hated that, hated the fact that you were about to belong to someone. He knew he wanted and needed you to feel the burn that he had been feeling for months since then.

"I'm not t-telling," you can barely form a sentence let alone a proper sound that didn’t make you sound out to be like a deprived slut.

The man can’t do much other than scoff, you having the strength to use that reassuring tone— with such a soft tone and bat pretty doll eyes in lost of such easy pleasure given.

Looking this fucking gorgeous and it’s going to be all for someone else, not him ever “I know angel, not with the way i’m about to fuck you.”

Like clockwork you moan like a bitch at that, of course. Feeling him sink razor sharp canines down into the squishy flesh of your stomach.

Uncaring completely for the fresh marks, he would hope in your future meeting with that man.. you wouldn’t become so easy to show yourself off for him. Sliding his fingers from your stomach down over to your cunt, slipping long digits between sopping wetness — sticky as if you already had touched yourself earlier.

He’s growing impatient, on the aspect of stretching you out when he so gladly craves to stuff you four fingers full. But he’s a gentleman at his very best, always calling out for him in non-stop “T-tae..” or better yet “Touch me, I’m sorry, I’ll be good.” without any doubt he would answer “Anything for the angel.”

Your thighs already shake from the burn of /slowly/ fucking yourself on long fingers. Tears streaming, overwhelmed by the burning stretch that comes with each motion, soon quiet sniffles and soft gasps turn into sobbing when the man decides to snake his hand and start to tease and slowly circle your clit.

“So perfect, all for me, hm.”

You nod eager to please, blushing all the way down to your toes. Biting your lip, thoughts not holding very well against the feeling of the eager man’s middle finger now slipping out from you to part your cunt and stroke along the sore slit.

“Patient tonight? You must want it bad.” he sighs almost sounding bored, standing tall over you to undo the belt that once looped through his slacks. Long gone leather abandoned to the floor along with his slacks pooled at his ankles, ready, finally.

“You gotta be nice and quiet for me. Yeah? Can you do that for me?”

You’re way past desperate tonight, choking out a broken “Y-yes, fuck! Please.” wild hips winding up for more of the now lost touch.

The older plays coy, smirking lopsided and lazy, kneeling on the bed to line himself up to the pretty plump cunt. Long digits wrapped around his cock, "Open up for me baby."

She obeys immediately, legs opening wider to shakily wrap themselves around Taehyung’s waist. His hips up to slip his cock into the crease of your folds. Grinding there half tipsy now, leaky tip nudging at your clit.

Not wasting another second, the first push of stretch has you whining his name. Long nails piercing into taut honey skin, cock fucking in ruthless at the long thrusts that heat your core up, forming sweat down his neck and shoulders.

“Goood fucking girl.” He drawls with a husky moan, you want to die at how fucking hot he sounds.

He doesn’t care, going faster to no point of being coherent in your mind. Punishing strokes fucking the life out of you, snapping his cock right into your tight cunt. One hand bruised into your hip while the other slipped easily around your neck just enough to have you alert “Look me in the eyes when I’m fucking you.”

Lashes fluttering half open, looking with a fuzzy minded daze. Knowing you look like a slut, feeling drool drip everywhere along with the slickness between your legs. Coming to the reality you would let him do anything and you’d welcome it.

"Just like that baby, shit, taking my cock so fucking good," he grunts almost feral with every punishing stroke "Y-yes, " tiny voice choking out, slamming into you with hips winding harder if that was even humanely possible "Love it so much, I-love your cock.”

“Who’s a whore, uh? Who’s desperate for cock.”

“Tell me.” he growls slowing the roll of his hips into you to pull a desperate cockslut spill a mess of “Me, me, me.” you’re hyperventilating almost with how good he feels “M-me, I’m sorry!” god, the situation is a mess but he wouldn’t be lying if he wasn’t thinking about filling his load in you and pray to the man above that your birth control didn’t work.

feeling walls grow tighter and tighter, knowing the telltale signs you were about to cum.

“Perfect fucking girl, sucking me so tight.”

“S-stop..” you whine in embarrassment with a broken sob when you feel the devil himself sink deeper, balls deep inside you now.

Back and forth, back and forth.

An addictive dance, once friendly boundaries expanding to something that was speaking what will stay unspoken. Taehyung’s cock sliding so good inside your cunt you were dying with bliss for the night.

He can see you struggle to try and put a hand over your mouth, but the man won’t allow that. Snatching your hand in his grasp “Let her hear," he growls, referring to the maids and starts to fuck the life out of your cunt with no care for how loud you moan or scream.

"Y-your slut," you stutter, feeling him start to raise his hips to meet your weak attempt of grinding back, thrusting upward and matching your sloppy speed. "wanna b-be your slut."

His ego growing higher than before and dick hard as ever, Taehyung taunts, already knowing the answer by your dazed features.

“Oh yeah?” he pants grunting with every roll of his hips, and you can do nothing but give him what he wants. On the brink of tears you whine out broken moans, “So fucking bad, please Tae.”

“Come on." the taller’s strokes turning slow and hard, each one pulling a moan from sweet agape lips. "Cum on my cock.” you’re past coherent, cock drunk with drool slipping down your chin.

The ecstasy bursting through your body at an unimaginable rate,legs feel almost numb, smaller fingers gripping your sheets so hard. Taehyung already knew you would rip them off the corners of your bed, seeing how your own skin burned. Orgasm still sending ripples throughout your tiny body. Shaking as you came down from the high, cock buried deep, cum spilling inside as he keeps your body pressed together, skin to skin. His nose buried in the crook of longer sweaty strands of hair.

You begin to feel the feather kisses he mouthed over the expanse of your neck, his body quivering with the last of his cum filling you up.

“Fuck, yeah, ok.” is all he can do to respond, you can only hum in response as you’re being fucked so mind-numbingly good. Body moving along the bed as you’re fucked open for the year.

Your blissed-out state has the man feeling on top of the world, no case he’s won ever given him this much ecstasy for this feeling of high.

Knowing that the same woman he's been getting off to for months, that was only planned to be handed over to someone else is finally getting fucked. His pretty not so sweet angel drooling all for him, ruined for good by just his cock.

The floaty feeling back to how it was, only stronger than ever, the way Taehyung feels so right up against you.

He comes from his feverish moment of just drilling into you, no awareness for how overwhelming it may be. A smaller hand trying to grab his hand to make him stop, he sees nothing less of rage.

"Move your fucking hand.” he snaps with a hiss, snatching your hand in an iron like grasp.

“only I can touch you like this.” he states, hard and stern as if it’s a plead mixed into question. “Yeah?” of course he has to slap you for you to answer, braindead and cock hungry.

“Yes, all for you!” you squeal, body curling into yourself — he begins to dwell how there is not a real thought behind your eyes but his fingers and cock bearing your only passable thoughts.

He wants to laugh, your poor husband is about to be inadvertently about to be cucked.

You moan at how rough he’s being, every yank, spanking and slap getting you more than riled up. Rambling the typical ‘I love you, I love your cock.’

He’s aggravated, not sure why, deep down knowing. "Look at me and tell me what you want.” no way to receive an answer unless he squeezed a generous hand around your throat.

“Y-you, you, fuck!”

It’s not enough, he wants to laugh at his greediness that will not sate him ever.

Again and again, back and forth. Another slap landed across each apple red cheek, going harder each lashing.

“Again.”

You repeat yourself again, hm, still not enough.

He’s done with himself, frustrated and choosing to vomit his words.

“You’re mine, get that through your fucking head.” his thrusts were past hard and fast, bruising now. He grunted and groaned while you continued to moan and whimper beneath him, going so rough he decided to push your skull deep into the bed. Warm palm covering your face whole, feeling you squeeze involuntarily at being used like an object.

“Atta girl.” He didn't stop, not once. You weren’t asking to anyways just screaming his name for more — no mind here with nodding away into a mess full of bedsheets, trying to wind wobbly hips back on his cock to bounce lewdly.

Taehyung does nothing less but snap sharply against your ass, “So fucking tight, mine."

"C-cum in me tae," you moan, seeing white, reaching down blindly to rub your clit in frantic circles, begging at the idea of the older filling you with his cum. "Fill me up, give-give me a baby."

"Fuuuck," Taehyung growls and groans almost feral "Don't fucking say that shit."

"W-why not?" bratty whines beg “F-fill me up? Don't say that?"

Taehyung grunts, pulling you on him, chest to chest, you clamor to wrap shaky arms around his neck. Fuck, he’s holding you upright, bouncing you straight onto his cock. Falling forward with a squeal, crying in pleasure as the tip of his cock hits your cervix with how deep he is inside.

"Want my cum so fucking bad?" he hums, trying his best to sound unbothered. "I'll fucking give it to you then."

Your legs clamp around his waist as he pounds into you, cock hitting every point inside your body and you’re so close you think you’ll die. You feel Taehyung tense, and then a sudden gush of warmth fill you.

"Fuck me, angel. You feel so good." he gasps through l shut teeth spanking you with every thrust he gave.

At the feeling of him actually listening to what you always wanted, your orgasm blinds you in intensity, the tight coil in your stomach finally snaps. Body seizing, moans loud against his lips, whining a final tired cry to slow down.

The baby clip once stuck to hair now hung loose, the feeling of warm hands kneading hips before he would give harsh slaps to your ass.

"What do you think he would say," he spits out the name with nothing but disgust. “if he saw you like this?" He shifts his hips, "You think he'd ruin your orgasm?" tone patronizingly sympathetic. “Or.. let you cum so prettily, like you always do.”

He tsks at watching how disoriented daze eyes go through the five stages of grief. Writhing in pleasure as eyes fall closed, breath hitched when he finally lays you back down on the bed. Thighs sticky and all, he sighs at the sight.

“Want to show this cunt off to the world."

“Y-you can’t..” you pout, his eyes watching you fall apart all over again at just words being spoken to you.

“Good thing for secrets.” he smirks his mouth almost falling into a snarl, it wasn’t even spoken this would continue. One last time you agreed.. but you want him more than ever even if your situation is doomed.

“Bath?” he mutters with a whisper of soft kisses to your temple, you nod.

He grabs for his cigarettes, you hand him his lighter and wait until the deed was done so you could put them back off to the side again.

It’s been long since you both have took a bath together. He stretches his arms after he successfully calmed his nerves, you light the stick for him, eyes on him as he throws his head back to inhale. Blowing smoke out, body lazing while it filled with nicotine.

You like calm men, men who dont shout or break things when they’re upset. Men who talked to you in a gentle, low voice telling you what made them mad or what you did wrong.

That’s what Taehyung is to you, that’s what made you fall.. hard. You think it over all again in your current predicament, comfortable as ever.

Veiny caramel hands pulling your hips up in the bath for you to be settled nicely. A warm hand fondles your ass lovingly with his other taking puffs of smoke to inhale and exhale lazily, “My pretty girl.” he smiles lopsided before tugging your wobbly hips back down in relief, enjoying the way you whimpered and whined in your own way of retaliation.

Taking mercy before planting a wet kiss on your shoulder to whisper “I love you, Angel.”

Both of you decide on staying silent. Your back rests against his chest, deciding mutually to speak once the cigarette burnt into ashes.

“Does he make you feel safe, like I do?”

You don’t answer.

“I want you, you’re mine no matter what.”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

You are married now.. being due with a fast wedding to no love involved, business as the main goal.

The meets with Taehyung continue and you two make time to fuck when you can — poor Namjoon.

It hurts he thinks.. hurts so bad. Because he’ll have to look at you every month when you come over to be fucked into whatever.

While he is out handling business, leaving him in the spot to fuck you hard and good like he can’t, at least he tried to convince himself of that for his own comfort.

You keep up with the old routine of pillow talk, just to feel the same mundanity this once all was. You think, he doesn’t care what you speak of after he only just poured his dull sad soul into fucking you.

Not caring at how you talk so highly of your new husband and how well you both are adapting with each other. Rambling all on about your blossoming relationship with him, hearing you nervously speak of the plans on having kids together.

Of course not nervous on his behalf, no, no.

Because you are deathly nervous about if you will be a good mother or not, he knows you will, even if things are like this. You think it doesn’t hurt him, when you say genuinely on how he’ll be the “Cool friend of Mommy’s” to your children.

It drives a knife deep into my heart on how you speak so highly of this new life, how well you are adapting. When.. we could have had this.

“Tae..? You there?”

He’s not caring to respond to your rhetoric question that was all well laced of genuine care and worry, Taehyung can be an asshole just this once.

“Do you know what you are?”

You think this is a game of teasing now, he can tell with that pretty smirk plastered on your gorgeous face “What am I, sir?”

It’s too bad that he’s being genuinely serious.

“You’re my girl.”

You don’t take a second to pause, you play into the narrative with a grin that quickly warped into an innocent and sweet smile.

“I’m your girl, Taehyung.”

He only knew that you meant the world to him.. and he, adored you in his mind until it hurt.

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