#still hesitant to post because I feel like the pacing is all off

[d1stalker]

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!

[wintrwinchestr]

an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on. 

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression. 

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand. 

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it. 

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state. 

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap. 

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows. 

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you. 

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches. 

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against. 

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can. 

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain. 

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…” 

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is. 

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[likeumeanit9497]

shut your mouth | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: matt hates (loves) crazy girls ;)

warnings: SMUT; unprotected p in v; oral (m receiving); orgasm denial; hair pulling; very angry! very dirty! very rough!; waterfall; toxic! fwb; 18+

notes: sooo i rlly did NOT have the time to be writing all this bc im so overwhelmed with school stuff (hence why i chronically disappear from this app im so sorry) but i could not! stop! thinking! about! matt's ig story from a couple days ago and had to feed my delusions. also be warned y/n is ABSOLUTELY BAT SHIT BONKERS CRAZY but unfortunately i was able to resonate with her on a deep level bc if i was fucking matt and saw that ig post i fear i would lose my mind too. aaaanyways i love u all so so much and hope u enjoy this piece of filth <3333

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

“What the fuck is this?” Your voice sent a shockwave through the small, dark bedroom as you stormed through the door. Matt’s sleeping frame, wrapped comfortably in his bedsheets, did nothing but make the simmering anger within you begin to boil. A confused groan came from under the covers as you flicked the light on, brightening the room so quickly it even made you squint. “Matt! Get up.” You demanded, walking agitatedly over to his bed and ripping the covers off of him. You gulped at the sight of his shirtless frame, the dark ink of the tattoos across his arms acting as your kryptonite. Your hesitation only lasted a moment, however, as you quickly recollected yourself at the reminder of why you had showed up to your fuck buddy’s house unannounced.

“The fuck are you doing?” Matt grumbled hoarsely, his eyes screwed tightly shut as a protection from the sharp light and your sharper confrontation. You felt your anger grow all-consuming, making you lose all sight of rationality as you watched him bury his face in a pillow. Scoffing, you felt a trembling within you, lighting your skin on fire. “I’m asking you what the fuck this is.” You replied, unlocking your phone and shoving it in his face. Flinching at the sudden brightness just inches from him, he cautiously opened his eyes into droopy slits, focusing on the image on the screen. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light enough to comprehend what he was looking at, but you knew the moment he did because he rolled his eyes before running his hands exasperatedly across his face. “Oh my fucking god Y/n,” He grumbled under his breath.

You let out a sharp laugh, crossing your arms and staring down at him. “That’s all you have to say?” Your voice was raising even higher now, and even in your anger you tried to contain yourself. Matt took a deep breath, and indulgently, you watched his lower stomach move as he did. “What do you want me to say?” He replied, still scrubbing his tired eyes; refusing to look at you, “Like I have no clue what you’re seeing.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you ran your tongue across your teeth in anger. “No clue what I’m seeing?” You turned the phone around to face you, feeling your stomach flip at the photo on Matt’s Instagram story before zooming in to his exposed grey boxers and his pelvis pressed suggestively against his bathroom sink.

Shoving the phone back in his face, he took a quick glance at the screen before rolling his eyes once again and sitting up in his disheveled bed. “Why don’t you just tell me what you’ve made up in that head of yours because I still have no clue what I’m supposed to be seeing here.” You wanted to scream from his nonchalance, but instead you took another step towards him as he shifted to sit at the edge of his bed. “Well, it looks an awful lot like a thirst trap to me,” You began, crossing your arms over your chest and staring down at him. A frustrated smirk tugged at the corner of his lips from your words, making you shake with anger.

“Where’s the problem.” He phrased his question like an exasperated statement, causing you to begin pacing in front of him. “I’m not dumb, Matt, I know you only post those when you’re after some new girl.” You could hear the blood roaring in your ears as you worked on controlling yourself. “Are you fucking someone new now?” He released another annoyed groan before standing up from the bed. Looking into his eyes, you noticed the familiar shimmer of darkness in them that caused your stomach to do excited flips. “You’re fucking crazy Y/n.” He replied, his voice low as he shook his head with an arrogant smile on his face.

His words made your head spin, those words that had been spoken countless times and never failed to cause your anger to boil over. “I’m not fucking crazy,” You replied through gritted teeth, “Admit that there’s a new girl that’s caught your eye.” Your eyes were laser-focused on his antagonistically. “Why does it matter?” He replied, his voice filled with exhaustion, and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. Still, his words caused your eyebrows to raise and a bitter laugh to fall from your lips. “So there is, huh?” He rolled his eyes again, failing to take you seriously once again.

“Who is it?” You pushed him even further, causing him to really begin growing frustrated now. He ran a hand through his hair and began walking away from you. Overtaken with fury, you followed him — planting your feet in front of him. “You fuck her yet?” You continued to egg him on, noticing even through your anger how excited you grew from the annoyance evident in his behaviour. “Y/n,” He warned, his jaw tense as he clearly fought against his own anger. “I’m dead serious,” You continued, taking another step closer to him, “Was she better than me? Huh? Is that why I haven’t heard from you all weekend?”

It was his turn to take a few steps towards you, forcing you to walk backwards until you felt the wall against your back. “You haven’t heard from me all weekend because you never fail to give me a fucking headache over shit like this,” His voice was low, making your pulse race as he continued, “You need to stop making shit up in your head, Y/n.” You could feel the heat radiating off of his body as he stood just inches away from you, and your sharp anger was dulled slightly by the intoxicating closeness of your bodies. “I’m not making anything up, asshole.” You spat, though your voice was airy as your gaze drifted down to his pink lips.

“You’re losing your fucking mind, storming into my house uninvited, over one fucking Instagram post,” His voice was thick with anger as he spoke, “I’m over your bullshit, Y/n, I mean it.” As he spoke, your heart began racing — not from his words, but by the way he was looking down at you. Blue eyes darkened and jaw tight, but the familiar knit brow that only appeared when he was fighting the urge to swallow you whole gave him away.

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the realization that you were once again getting the reaction you wanted from him, but you swiped it away before he could see it. Instead, you would continue playing this game until you got exactly what you wanted. “Why?” You began, your voice still angry yet laced with subtle seduction, “Got plans with the new bitch you’ve been trying to impress?” He let out a throaty grunt and pushed you flush against the wall — allowing you to feel the stiff bulge in his pyjama pants against your front.

“Hmm,” You hummed, fluttering your eyes seductively to let him know you felt it, “Are you that hard for her, or me?” His eyes dilated so that they looked nearly black. You couldn’t stop the smirk that took over your lips as he laced a rough hand through your hair, using his grip on it to tilt up your head forcefully. “Shut up Y/n.” He replied, his voice clipped and thick with arousal. You ran your tongue across your teeth again, looking up at him antagonistically as you recognized the strain in his demeanour. “Don’t be embarrassed, Matt. Who knows, maybe if she’s down you can have both of us at once,” You tilted your head slightly, taking in his threatening expression — the desire that was swimming through his veins was evident. “That is, if you can take us bo—”

“I said shut your mouth.” You gasped as Matt used his grip on your hair to pull you down to your knees in front of him. An arrogant smile covered your lips as you watched him swiftly remove his pyjama pants and boxers in one motion before grabbing onto your head and guiding your open mouth to his stiff member. Eagerly, you wrapped your stretched lips around his girth and relished in the taste of his salty pre-cum against your tongue. His grip in your hair tightened, and he used it to begin moving your head up and down his swollen shaft.

His movements were rough, and it wasn’t long before thick strings of saliva began dripping down your numb chin and collecting at the base of his cock. Crude sounds filled the space between you both as he pushed your head further and further down his length until you could feel your throat stretch to accommodate the spongey tip. Short grunts fell sporadically from his lips as he watched his cock disappear between your glistening lips. “You look so p-pretty when your mouth has something to k-keep it busy.” His words, punctuated by his quick breaths, shot straight to your core; causing you to release a strangled moan around his girth.

Tears filled your eyes as you looked up at him, mascara dripping down your flushed cheeks causing his hips to subconsciously snap into you. “Fuck,” He groaned, removing one of his hands from your hair and using it to brace himself against the wall behind you. Leaning forward, he began thrusting his cock into your drooling mouth, watching as your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy. “You love when I shut you up with my cock, don’t you baby,” His voice was ragged and feral, causing your stomach to flip in excited fear. Unable to speak, all you could do was gargle around his length. Smirking, he continued, “This is what you wanted all along, wasn’t it?”

Your lungs were suddenly filled with deliciously cool air as he pulled his dripping cock from your mouth. Gasping to catch your breath after minutes without any, you let his warm, heavy cock rest on your cheek as he took in your fucked out appearance. “I’m giving you one opportunity to speak, Y/n.” He said, admiring the exhaustion on your reddened face. Looking up at him, your moment of melancholy disappeared and was replaced with an urge to push him even further. “What I wanted all along was to know who the fuck the new girl is.”

His dick jumped against your skin from your snarky words, and after a brief hesitation, he lifted you off of the ground and slammed you against the wall. Gasping from the sudden movement, you didn’t have a moment to adjust before his mouth was on yours. Feverish, his tongue didn’t wait for your lips to grant them entrance before slipping into your mouth. The heat of his kiss was intoxicating as your lips moulded into one in sheer desperation. His tongue dominated your own as he relished in the taste of himself on you. A soft moan left your lips as his hands began exploring your lower body. Upon finding the hem of your tennis skirt, he toyed with the soft material before slipping his hand underneath to find your desperate heat.

You released a pitiful whine as he just barely made contact with your dripping folds atop your lace thong — his touch a clear form of revenge for your behaviour today. The cool enamel of his teeth tugged at your lower lip, the sharp sensation causing you to gasp before he quickly spun you around so that you were now facing the wall. Using one hand to spread your legs apart and the other to first pull your skirt up to your waist before slipping your drenched thong to the side, his breath was hot against the skin of your shoulder as he spoke.“I don’t wanna hear another word from your mouth unless it’s you moaning over how much you love my cock.”

Just as you opened your mouth to deliver a final snarky remark, all of the air was pushed from your lungs as Matt buried his still-glossy cock to the hilt inside of you. Digging his fingers into your plush hip with one hand and lacing the other through your wild hair, he didn’t give you a moment to adjust to his size before driving his hips into you relentlessly. Your walls stretched around his girth, welcoming him on each sharp thrust. Girlish moans fell from your lips — the tone so different that what you had been using to speak to him. The slapping sound of wet skin against skin filled the small room as your body was repeatedly pressed between Matt and the cool wall.

“Your crazy makes — fuck — makes me crazy,” Matt growled in your ear before biting it harshly. A moan fell from your lips at the erotic, sharp pain of the gesture. Noticing your uncontrollable moans, he continues to egg you on. “Feels good when I fuck the senses back into you hmm?” His grip on your hair tightens, and he uses it to guide you to the bed and bend you over the edge — all without removing his cock from you dripping cunt. Feeling relief from being pressed against a soft bed rather than a hard wall, you cry out his name in unutterable pleasure before replying, “F-feels so good, M-Matt,”

Your breathy words are rare, and they seem to go straight to Matt’s cock as he releases his own guttural moan. “W-why can’t you be like this all the time?” He asked, his words punctuated by each rapid thrust. Mustering up all the strength in your body, you turned and looked at him over your shoulder with a smirk. “Where’s the fun in that?” Matt bit his lower lip at your words, and his fiery eyes stayed focused on yours as he snapped his hips into you at a punishing pace. Your walls flexed, an orgasm rapidly approaching as his cock slammed repeatedly into your swollen g-spot. Recognizing this, and with it the control he had gained over you, he smirked before slowing his movements.

“You wanna cum baby?” You shuddered as his cock slid through your oozing cunt slowly, the pace allowing you to feel every inch of him stimulate your sensitive walls. The slow tilt of his hips was driving you crazy, pushing you even closer to your high than when he was slamming into you relentlessly. A soft whine fell from your lips before you nodded your head frantically, feeling the elastic band in your lower stomach stretch taut with the need for release. He chuckled behind you as he continued rolling his hips slowly, watching your pinched facial expressions carefully as though gauging how close you were to falling apart under him.

“F-fuck,” You moaned, eyes pinching shut as you felt your orgasm inch closer and closer. Your legs began to tremble as your nerve endings lit on fire — every move he made now causing your head to spin in euphoria. “Y/n, you’re not gonna cum,” His words caused your pleading eyes to fly open, landing on him with a look of humiliating desperation. “Y-yes I am,” You replied, panic growing steadily in your voice as you felt your walls begin to cave in. “F-fuck!” You cried out in bliss at the feeling of being nearly pulled into the tidal wave of your orgasm, only to be suddenly cut off by the feeling of cold emptiness as Matt quickly pulled his dripping cock out of you.

Whimpering at the loss of contact, your soaked cunt flexed around nothing as you trembled from the remnants of your nearly-there orgasm. “What the fuck?” You cried weakly, arching your back and blindly searching for his cock with your weeping folds. Noticing your intention, Matt placed a firm hand on your back to stop your movements before pressing his sticky cock to your swollen bundle of nerves. A desperate cry fell from your lips as he tauntingly slid himself against your pink folds, the external contact almost worse than no contact at all.

“If you wanna cum,” His voice was hoarse behind you, as though the loss of contact was just as painful for him, “You gotta promise me you’re gonna stop acting crazy,” You released a frustrated groan at his words, before rolling your hips against his front desperately. “No more barging into my house talking shit, no more cussing out other girls I see, and no more running your mouth, alright?” You gritted your teeth at his horrible proposition, and hated how much control he had over you in that moment.

But the satin tip of his cock was rubbing perfectly against your pulsing clit, and you could tell by the placement of his fist against your wet skin and the movement of his hips behind you that he was fucking his own hand while enveloped in your folds, and in the state of arousal you were in, it was enough for you to say nearly anything if it meant he would deliver you your stolen orgasm. “Y-yes,” You replied, feeling incapable of granting him more than a one-word answer. Still, it didn’t seem to be enough for him, as in between muted grunts he replied, “Yes what, Y/n.”

“I’ll be better, please, I-I’ll be better Matt j-just let me cum,” You felt your already flushed cheeks grow redder by the shrill neediness in your tone. But your words seemed to satisfy Matt because, after shooting you an amused smirk, he slid his cock through your folds one final time to collect the pool of milky arousal that had gathered in its absence, before slipping back into you and resuming his sharp thrusts. A long, satisfied moan fell from your lips at the feeling of being filled to the hilt once more, and it was as though no time had lapsed as your orgasm immediately began approaching; this time much stronger than the last.

“Jesus baby,” Matt grunted behind you, overtaken by the flood of your arousal that was milking his cock and gathering at its base. You felt him swell within you, and knew that he was just as close to falling apart as you were. Your walls fluttered as pleasure built deep in your core; pressing down on your heat in a way it never had before. “J-just like that, gonna c-cum!” You begged Matt to hold himself together for just a moment longer, fearing that if you didn’t get a release you would explode into pieces.

Matt held back his own orgasm, his chest growing red and his arms growing thick veins from the effort. His cock, now even harder than before, thrusted vehemently into you until at last the forceful waves of your orgasm swept your stiff, trembling body away. A sinfully erotic moan fell from your open mouth as your cunt flexed uncontrollably around his length, releasing the formidable pressure in your stomach as you squirted against his front.

That seemed to be more than he could bear, as the moment he felt your warm fluid bathe his cock he stilled behind you; releasing a guttural moan as his member pulsed out thick ropes of cum deep inside of you. Still riding your own high, your fingers dug helplessly into the mattress as you both released a chorus of expletives into the humid room. Matt pulled his cock out of you and parted your folds to watch in awe as your still-pulsing cunt pushed out glistening strings of his seed. Using his finger, you released one final sharp moan as he collected his cum and pushed it back into your raw pussy.

Letting you catch your breath, Matt dropped a quick kiss to the dimple on your lower back before grabbing a towel to wipe down first you, and then himself. Face buried in the mattress, you relished in a feeling of serenity that was so rare for you to experience as you listened to your heart begin to steady. You felt the mattress sink, and without having to look you knew that Matt had sprawled out beside you.

“Why does it have to be so good?” You heard him ask, likely to himself more than to you. Still, you felt a smile creep onto your lips before replying. “Because it’s with me,” Lifting your head from the bed, you suddenly forgot about the promise you had made him just moments before as you turned to face his naked frame draped beside you, “Try fucking that girl you want so bad on Instagram, and I guarantee you won’t have to ask that question.”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

[wbbfannnnnn13]

Almost, Always - CH. 5

A/N: In celebration of UConn winning the Big East, here's a little fluff/hope for you guys :) It'll probably be a bit before I can write a new chapter so enjoy for now, just don't get too comfy lol

WC: 2.5k+

Warnings: light/suggestive sexual content

Chapter 5 – I'm Trying 

Paige stood frozen in the arena long after Azzi had turned and disappeared. The echo of her footsteps had faded, but the ache in Paige’s chest only grew louder. She’d known it wouldn’t be easy, but she hadn’t expected it to feel like this—like her heart had just taken another hit it might not recover from.

Still, she understood. Azzi had every right to walk away. She hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Two weeks of silence was on her. And now, standing here, Paige could admit what she hadn’t let herself fully acknowledge until this moment: waiting and surprising Azzi had been a bonehead move. What was she thinking? That she could show up and everything would fall into place? That love alone would fix the cracks she’d left untended for so long?

But it hadn’t been just carelessness. It had been a plan. A grand gesture, or at least, that’s what she’d hoped it would be. Two weeks ago, she’d called her assistant and asked for help coordinating her schedule, pacing the length of her apartment as she rattled off dates and begged for options. She was desperate to figure out when she could see Azzi in person, desperate for something tangible—something that would make all the distance and silence feel like it had purpose. She needed to see her, to look her in the eyes and try to make things right in a way a phone call never could. She’d imagined the moment vividly—Azzi’s surprise, the way her face might soften, the way Paige could finally say everything she’d been holding in. It wasn’t just about showing up; it was about making a statement, about proving that she hadn’t let go, even when it looked like she had.

The only window was when the Wings played the Liberty in New York. It wasn’t soon enough, but it was the best she could do. She’d taken it, thinking she’d make it count. She just hadn’t realized how much damage her silence would do in the meantime. She should have called. She should have texted. But the truth was—she’d been scared. Scared that Azzi would hear her voice or see her name light up the screen and finally decide that this was it, that she’d had enough, that she was done. Paige had convinced herself that waiting, that showing up in person, would be better.

But now, standing here, watching the emptiness Azzi had left in her wake, she knew that had been a mistake. A selfish, fear-driven miscalculation masquerading as romance. Now the weight of that decision settled on her like lead, a cruel echo in the silence Azzi left behind. She’d thought she could control the timing, the outcome. Paige thought a grand gesture would matter more than all the quiet absence in between. But now, she wasn’t so sure she hadn’t just ruined everything. That the space she’d tried to fill with intention had only widened into something permanent.

Still, she wasn’t giving up. Because somewhere beneath all that fear and doubt, Paige wanted nothing more than to prove to Azzi that she could move past it. That she could be braver, louder, clearer about what Azzi meant to her. She didn’t just want to show up, she wanted to show Azzi that she was worth being chosen out loud, without hesitation, without fear.

So she went to the parking lot, found Azzi’s car, and waited.

She didn’t care how long it would take. She knew Azzi had post-game obligations from media, locker room, and team debriefs. None of it mattered. She meant what she said at the airport.

Azzi—them—was everything.

She leaned against the hood of the car, arms crossed, staring up at the night sky, nerves twisting in her gut with every passing minute. The cold from the metal seeped through her jeans, grounding her in a way that her thoughts couldn't.

She scrolled through her phone, not really looking at anything, just trying to kill time. A news article about the game. A video recap. A few photos of Azzi mid-shot, fierce and graceful and composed. God, she looked unstoppable tonight.

Paige smiled.

And she looked so good doing it. Her toned arms, the way her jersey clung to her frame, the intensity in her eyes, it was all effortlessly magnetic. Paige had always thought Azzi was beautiful, but somehow, now, years into this thing between them, she only found her sexier. More confident, more self-assured, more impossible to look away from. It hit Paige all over again just how lucky she was to love someone like her.

As she kept scrolling, she saw a few screenshots from the crowd—pictures of her, clear as day, in Azzi’s jersey. Already, fan accounts were speculating. Comments were pouring in, full of assumptions and rumors and hashtags. The buzz was already building, and it had nothing to do with basketball. A knot of fear twisted in Paige’s gut, rising to the surface with each post she scrolled past. This was what she’d been afraid of. This was the noise. But even with the fear clawing at the edges of her mind, she didn’t regret it. Not this time. Because she was trying. Because Azzi was worth it.

Eventually, she heard the familiar sound of voices and footsteps echoing through the lot. She looked up and saw Azzi walking alongside Aaliyah, laughing at something. Her heart skipped a beat just seeing her. It always did. She was so damn beautiful it hurt. Strong and effortless, lit by the streetlights like she’d stepped straight out of a dream. Paige’s eyes roamed instinctively, taking in the curve of her mouth, the strength in her shoulders, the way her walk had always commanded attention.

Aaliyah noticed Paige first. Her expression shifted, softening with understanding. They’d been through a lot together and she knew the history here. She gave Azzi a quick look, one full of empathy, then turned her gaze toward Paige.

“Hey, Paige,” Aaliyah said with a faint smile.

“Hey, Lili,” Paige replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

Aaliyah didn’t linger. She gave Azzi a small nudge, a subtle gesture of support, then headed to her car. Azzi didn’t say a word as they watched her drive away.

Silence settled between them, heavy and thick.

Paige cleared her throat. “Az, I’m so sorry.”

Azzi didn’t speak. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, jaw clenched.

“I should’ve called. I should’ve said something. Anything. I thought showing up would make it better, but… it didn’t. I was an idiot. I thought some dramatic gesture would mean more, and I didn’t think about how much the silence would hurt you. I didn’t think about how it might come across like I wasn’t taking this seriously enough. But I am. I swear I am.”

Azzi’s brows pulled together as she looked down at the ground. "What are you doing here, Paige?"

“I’m trying,” Paige continued, her voice cracking a little. “I’m trying to be ready. I want to be ready. I want to be the kind of person who doesn’t let fear get in the way of something this important. I just… I don’t always know how to get there.”

Azzi’s gaze finally flicked up to meet hers, the question still lingering in her eyes, guarded but curious—like she was trying to understand why Paige was really there, and if it meant anything at all. 

Paige sighed. “I can't let this go without fighting for it. I know I messed up, and I know I’ve been stuck in my head. But I’m trying.”

Azzi nodded, still processing everything Paige was telling her. 

She hesitated, then added, “I wore your jersey tonight.”

Azzi raised a brow. “You’ve worn jerseys before.”

“I know,” Paige said quietly. “But not like this, baby. Not yours. You know what that meant for me.”

She hesitated, her gaze dropping for a second. “I knew people would notice. I knew fans would talk. It’s already out there—screenshots, posts, comments. I can feel it building. And I hate that my life always feels like some kind of soap opera. But I did it anyway. Because I’m trying. Because you mean more to me than the noise ever could.”

Azzi looked at her for a long moment. Paige couldn’t read her. And then, slowly, Azzi stepped closer.

“It’s not everything,” Azzi said, voice low. “But I know it wasn’t nothing.”

Paige stepped even closer, her voice shaking but sure. Her eyes burned as she searched Azzi’s face. “I love you, Az. I need you. I can’t lose you.” She paused, her heart pounding, her breath uneven. “I know I’ve screwed this up. I know I’ve made you feel like you weren’t enough, or like I wasn’t willing to fight for us. But I am. I’m here.”

Before Paige could say anything else, Azzi reached for her hand. It was subtle, tentative—like she was still testing the water. The moment Azzi’s hand closed around hers, Paige felt her breath catch in her throat. There was something grounding and intimate in the way Azzi’s fingers curled around hers—steady, warm, familiar. Her pulse fluttered at the contact, and for a split second, the world quieted. Paige loved that about Azzi—how one simple touch could calm the chaos inside her.

Paige exhaled, stepping into her, and then Azzi kissed her.

It started slow, cautious. But Paige leaned into it, deepened it—just a little. Just enough to tell Azzi she wasn’t going anywhere. Her hands slid to Azzi’s waist, drawing her closer, anchoring herself in the warmth and familiarity of her. The tension melted, just for a moment, in the taste of lips and shared breath.

Azzi’s fingers tangled in the hem of Paige’s jacket, pulling her in closer, and suddenly the tension between them shifted. It wasn’t anger anymore. It was heat. Want. Familiarity that made Paige’s heart race.

Paige pressed Azzi back gently against the car door, mouths colliding again, hungrier this time. Their kiss deepened, messy and urgent, a mix of frustration and longing and everything they hadn't said. Paige's hands slid from Azzi’s waist, her fingers trailing downward in a teasing sweep before giving her a firm squeeze, drawing a breathy hitch from Azzi's lips. Then she moved her hands up under the hem of her shirt, fingertips grazing smooth, warm skin that sent sparks down her spine. The heat between them spiked, and Paige felt the pull of gravity between their bodies, undeniable and electric. 

Azzi’s hands roamed too, slipping into Paige’s hair, tugging her closer, grounding them in this moment that felt like fire and forgiveness all at once. The kiss turned into something more—a slow, desperate collision that sent sparks flying with every pass of tongue and soft moan between them. Paige’s hands moved greedily, her mouth demanding and tender all at once, like she was pouring every apology, every I-miss-you, into Azzi’s lips. Their breathing grew ragged, a messy symphony of hunger and heat as they clung to each other, pressed together like gravity couldn’t keep them apart.

“God,” Paige whispered against her lips, “I missed you.”

Azzi pulled back just slightly, eyes meeting hers with a softened, breathless gaze. “I missed you too,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, full of something raw and real.

Azzi's hand slid beneath the jersey Paige wore with her number on it, fingertips grazing the skin just above her jeans, lingering there with a slow, possessive drag that made Paige’s knees go weak. Paige’s heart thudded hard against her ribcage, her pulse pulsing between every inch of their connected skin. She bit back a groan, her body arching into Azzi’s touch as heat pooled low in her belly. Her mind went dizzy with the feel of Azzi’s touch, the intoxicating closeness, the scent of her skin and shampoo and something that was just Azzi. The warmth of her mouth, the strength of her hands, the way she moved against her was enough to make Paige burn from the inside out.

Then Azzi pulled back slightly, her eyes dark and conflicted. “I had a dream about our first kiss,” she murmured.

Paige’s lips curved in a breathless, teasing smile, her voice low and husky from the heat between them. “You dream about me a lot, huh?” 

Azzi rolled her eyes, though a reluctant grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Paige laughed softly. “Sorry, sorry. That’s… kind of sweet.”

“It was more than sweet,” Azzi said quietly. “It felt real. I woke up missing you.”

Something inside Paige ached at that. A gentle, painful warmth bloomed in her chest. She reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind Azzi’s ear, her touch tender.

“Maybe it means something,” she said softly.

But Azzi’s expression faltered again. Paige noticed the shift immediately. Azzi's eyes pulled back, her jaw tensed just slightly. And suddenly, doubt crept in. Paige’s stomach twisted, the high from their kiss cracking under the weight of uncertainty. Was Azzi regretting this? The flicker of hesitation on Azzi’s face lodged itself in Paige’s chest like a warning, one that whispered that maybe love still wasn’t enough to undo the damage.

“Or maybe it’s just a reminder,” she said. “That nothing’s really changed.”

Paige froze. “What do you mean?”

Azzi pulled back, arms folding again, her body retreating even as she stood in the same place.

“I mean we’re still in the same place we've always been,” she said. “We're in a parking lot, kissing like it’s a secret. Still in this in-between place. You’re not hiding me, but you’re not choosing me either. Not fully. Not where it matters most.”

Paige opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. Because part of her knew it was true. She hadn’t done enough. Not yet.

“I don't want to walk away,” Azzi said again, softer this time. “But I can't go back to almost, either.”

Paige swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know."

Then she kissed Paige’s cheek, one last gentle press of her lips, before turning and walking to the driver's side.

Paige stood in the silence, heart aching, breath shallow, wondering how many more almosts they could survive. Her chest tightened, a creeping hollowness settling in as the reality of Azzi slipping away pressed harder against her ribs. She had given everything she could tonight—her words, her vulnerability, her heart—and still, it hadn’t felt like enough. The silence that followed felt louder than anything either of them had said, a cold confirmation of her worst fear. She heard the soft click of a car door and then the low rumble of the engine starting. Her heart sank, a lead weight of finality sinking deeper into her stomach, whispering that maybe this was it—that maybe she'd already lost the only thing that ever truly mattered.

But then, the window rolled down. Azzi exhaled sharply, her voice carrying across the space between them. "Get in."

Paige blinked, caught off guard.

She didn’t hesitate. She moved toward the car, pulled open the passenger door, and slid inside. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, but something had shifted—just enough to keep hope alive.

[whispersoftheton]

hiiii!! can i ask for a fic where reader (aka viscountess) is helping benedict with a lady he's falling in love with, but they're basically scheming and secretive and Anthony gets suspicious and a little jealous/upset? thanks!!!!!

Hello nonny! I've been going back and forth on posting this mostly because I don't feel like it's very good but I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: jealous!Anthony

Word Count: 1.1K

The day had dawned, and it seemed you had blinked the night away after a previously tedious day. Your duties as Viscountess had significantly grown since Lady Bridgerton had started to hand over most of the reigns of the house. With some spare time on your hands, you spent most of your day in the main hall amongst everyone as you poured yourself some tea before returning to your reading. With a hint of mystery in his eyes, Benedict strolled into the room and stood beside you, making himself busy with the book you had just put down on the tray.

"Viscountess now, is it?" He teased in a hushed tone to not alert the siblings of his untimely arrival. Benedict always had a way of easily slipping in and out of sight, with his mama distracted with his other sibling's endeavors.

"It would appear so." You offered him a warm smile while pouring some tea for yourself. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Benedict?" Although most may not understand your relationship with your new brother-in-law, this is how it has always been since your courtship with Anthony. How you managed to keep up flawlessly in between constant banter with his siblings was just one of the things Anthony loved most about you. And Benedict was no exception.

"It seems I find myself in need of your assistance." The unusual hesitance in his voice piqued your interest. Benedict was never one to shy away from a challenge, let alone hold his tongue. "There is a lady who I would like to…pursue."

"As in courting? The Benedict Bridgerton interested in seriously courting someone? Why I'd never thought I'd see the day." Your words dripped with sarcasm, but as you turned toward Benedict, it was clear this was no joke, making you reconsider your teasing, at least for now. "I apologize; I did not realize this was a serious matter." His eyes still trained on the tea before you. "If it is my assistance you require with the matter, I will help you."

"Really?" He leaned back, head up with a cocked brow.

"You are my brother now. And if this lady is as suitable of a match as you are implying, I will do everything in my power to assure your courtship to her."

"You care about me?" His teasing returned, making you resist the urge to roll your eyes toward him, but a smile crept up nonetheless.

"Of course, I care. We are family. Now, let's get to it before I regret this entire thing."

Anthony paced around his office, unable to focus on a single task all day. His desk was littered with papers needing attention, but all he could focus on was how odd you'd been acting as of late. Your presence was scarce around the house, although your duties were always tended to. Anthony missed having you as close by as he was accustomed to since your marriage. Of course, he caught glimpses of you throughout the day, but you always seemed to be scurrying off somewhere. He couldn't help but notice Benedict lingering nearby at every event he'd been to in the last couple of weeks, engaging you in conversation whenever he stepped away, even for a moment. Anthony knew he had no reason to be envious; you were his wife, and you loved each other dearly. But that didn't stop him from suppressing a surge of jealousy at the thought of you and Benedict spending so much time together. Impossible thoughts swirled through his mind, straying him further and further away from any rational thinking until his feet carried him faster than he could stop himself as he called the carriage.

The day was as warm as it was humid; the lush field was decorated with tents showcasing various vendors as the ton gathered. You had spent the better part of your time in the last couple of weeks preparing Benedict as much as possible, covering everything from appropriate topics of conversation to enticing the young woman to yearn for more interactions with him. It had been a challenging task. For every ounce of natural charm Benedict possessed, his soon-to-be lady seemed to be immune to it at every turn. Every challenge she presented seemed to draw Benedict closer. It was daunting, to say the least, but today would be the day. The garden party was the event of the social season, and you knew for a fact that she would make an appearance today. Benedict came up beside you, eyes set on her almost immediately. You glanced toward him, watching intently as his face softened, a smile deepening with every second he laid his eyes on her. Your heart warmed; whatever Benedict felt for this lady, you understood it was exactly what he had been searching for.

"Are you ready?" He snapped out of it and nodded toward you. "Go on then." Benedict readied himself, taking comfort in the fact that you would be nearby. But as soon as he stepped forward, he felt a hand grip his shoulder and move him back toward you.

"My dear brother," Anthony kept his tone hushed so as not to alarm any of the ton members standing nearby. "I will make haste so we may continue with the day's festivities. Care to clarify as to why you are spending so much of your time with my wife?" You and Benedict shared a look, holding back a laugh.

"I'd prefer not to; I'm rather entertained at the moment." Benedict crossed his arms before him, aiming his shit-eating grin at Anthony.

"Truly, Anthony, you could not make any more of a fool of yourself than you already are." You huffed as you turned toward your husband. "May I speak to you in private?" Anthony hesitated before he took your hand and walked you to an isolated part of the lake away from the chaos.

"If you must know, I was asked to help your brother pursue someone. I have been guiding him on proper conversation topics and ways to impress the young lady he has shown interest in. That is all. And if you are indeed insinuating there would be absolutely anything inappropriate happening between your brother and I then you truly do not know me at all."

"That is not what I thought-I-You were only spending so much time with Benedict, and I allowed my temper to best me; I only missed your company." His apologetic look had you softening under his gaze. "I apologize."

"Next time, simply ask before you allow your mind to run rampant with impossible thoughts, hm?" He nodded before taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. Anthony lead you back toward the gathering to find Benedict wholly entranced in a rather enticing conversation with his lady.

"It seems like you did well, my love," Anthony whispered toward you, tapping your hand, which was now holding onto his arm. "Looks like my brother might find his match after all."

Mini Tag List: @bugnug @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @thethreeeyed-raven @ssprayberrythings @fatbottomedvirgo @fictional-hooman @sky0401 (let me know if you would like to added by leaving a comment here or dm me if you’d like to be added/removed)

I DO NOT HAVE WATTPAD. I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission

[kolsmikaelson]

— MIKE SCHMIDT NSFW ALPHABET

— a/n - like everyone else the josh hutcherson renaissance got me too and i’ve been obsessed with him and this was a product of that, hope you enjoy!

— warning(s) - 18+ mdni, somewhat implied afab!reader, not proofread

join my taglist or follow @rodrickhefley to see when i post!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

doesn’t know much about aftercare at the beginning of your relationship but a few months in you’ve figured out what works best for the both of you which is usually a warm washcloth some water and a sometimes a nice bath if you’re both up for it but if not cuddles it is

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his arms and hands would probably be his favorite (because he knows how much you like them) and his favorite body part of yours would probably be your eyes

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he’s gotten off multiple times just by pleasuring you, it could be him going down on you or fingering you or something else it doesn’t matter just making you feel good makes him feel good

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

has gotten turned on by the way that you take care of him so well, he’s always busy taking care of abby but who's there to take care of him?

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he wasn’t a virgin when the two of you got together but he also wasn’t the most experienced. sure he’d fucked around some but he was always too busy

F = Favorite position ( goes without saying)

anything where he can see your face clearly so he can see how good he can make you feel and so that he can kiss you easier

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he doesn’t try to be goofy but in the beginning he was more often than not

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

not super groomed but not incredibly messy either, again something you helped him figure out because it was something he didn’t care about before you

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

so sweet and giving and loving. he’s always making sure you’re alright, makes sure you remember the safe word you put in place before anything really starts, checks on you throughout the entire thing no matter what

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

used to jack off because it was all he had the time for until he met you and there still isn't always a lot of time for anything more but you have no issue helping him out

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

mommy kink, spit (giving or receiving but mostly receiving), praise (giving and receiving)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his room or the shower mostly because of the privacy it gives you but he’s brought you to the pizzeria once of twice for some fun

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

genuinely everything about you gets him going it’s so easy to rile him up

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

nothing too dark, no bodily fluids (minus spit and cum)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

loves giving but loves receiving more

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

really depends. sometimes it’s fast and needy and messy other times it’s soft and slow and incredibly intimate

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

loves taking his time but quickies are all you two have time for more often than not, whether it be in the mornings in bed before you get up for the day or right before a date night that rare time vanessa is able to watch abby for a couple of hours

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

yes and no. depending on what it is he’s hesitant because he’s nervous of hurting you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

judging by how little he sleeps, probably 2, 3 if you're lucky. if you want more then you’ll have to wait a little while

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he owns a few but he rarely uses any on himself he much prefers using a vibrator on you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

doesn’t hate being teased but loves to be the one doing the teasing

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

oh he’s so loud, he’s whiny and is always whimpering

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

this wouldn’t happen often but one time after he sees the way you look at her, he asks if you’d want to have a threesome with vanessa. the two of them would be so focused on you and little to nothing would actually happen between them because all their attention is on you but vanessa ended up in your bed a few more times after that

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he’s a bit above average but makes up for it in girth

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

so high after so long of just using his hand or a toy but it dies down a little bit after a few months

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

if it had been a particularly rough day he might fall asleep within the hour but i can see him still taking a while to fall asleep

© kolsmikaelson : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

dividers made by : @.cafekitsune

[ginkgo-phyta]

Hotch would definitely give you the princess treatment, and you know what? Jack would too, after seeing his father he knows how to treat a girl right. And the team would definitely tease Hotch, because his son is going to steal his partner from him :)

omg no LITERALLYYY tho like just like omfg alright i got carried away with this and its not even really what you're talking about but listen to me okay LISTENNNNN

tagged spencer reid x reader because i want more people to see this teehee pls dont hate me i have spencer fics yall should read if you havent already but also you should still read this too

YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH AARON HOTCHNER AND ITS INFLUENCE ON HIS SON JACK gn!reader, FLUFF, no warnings(?) another informal blurb typa format :P

you and hotch decide together you'd like to date for a while first, take things slower and fully solidify and strengthen your relationship, before you become a part of jack's life. you didn't want jack to get attached to you or write you off too quickly in case life took you in different directions. you didn't know it at the time, but hotch introduced you to jack when he was sure he was going to marry you some day- and soon. he had been so incredibly head over heels in love with you and once you and jack got close, the little guy really got to witness how highly his father regarded you- and just how he showed you it every day. even in the little things. from the way hotch pulled out your chair, held all doors open for you, always kept your favorite drinks and snacks stocked up in the fridge and pantry, never let you open your own car door, the way he made spaces for you in his bathroom and closet without even being asked, and how he always stuck to your weekly dinner date- whether in person or over the phone. to the way his father would look at you, listen intently to whatever you were talking or ranting about, how he'd cup your hands and press quick kisses to them or move any bothersome strands of hair from your face when you'd eat, and how enthusiastic he always was when you and jack would spend time together.

jack was a bit hesitant with you at first, he was a bit older at that point and the quickness with which beth had left his life had admittedly stung him, leaving an ever-present welt behind. but he warmed up to you, appreciative of the way you welcomed him with open arms, never pressured him to spend time with or even like you (letting him accept you at his own pace) and how you clearly were not trying to take the place of his late mother- even many, many years into your relationship with his father. what he loved the most was how you always encouraged hotch to recount stories of haley, put pictures of her in jack's room or wherever else he wanted them, and how you would remind him: "your mother would be so proud of you jack." you would watch old home videos of their old family and jack never failed to notice how you wouldn't ever feel negatively about it. that was really what won him over. he also loved how open you were with both him and his dad- every day you'd say "i love you!" both casually and purposefully. it instilled in the young boy the importance of expressing appreciation, love, and care for others.

before you, hotch was always a just bit emotionally closed off. even when it came to jack he liked to keep himself a bit more reserved. he tried to stay a strong and unwavering inspiration, only wanting to show his son his best face. but once you came into their lives you inspired hotch to open up more than he had the last few years after haley's passing, inspired him to embrace even the "uglier" emotions he felt in life: grief, anger, sadness, and tiredness. it ended up passing onto jack in small ways, allowing him to feel even closer to dad. you became a huge structural post in jack's life. your love for one other inspired him, as he grew up he dreamed of one day having a relationship like yours. he looked forward to being able to treat his significant other the way his father cares for you.

you loved jack as if he was your own, though you never wanted to say that to him for fear of overstepping your role. aaron would always assure you, especially as jack grew older, that his boy felt it. you watched him go from a playful child, to a moody teenager, to a budding adult eager to make his mark on the world. and you were there supporting him the whole way.

you'll spend a lifetime with the both of them and although there will be many funny, loving, or frustrating moments you'll hold in a special place in your mind, there's one memory from when he was still a youngin that you love the most. it was a surprise dinner party at your fancy restaurant, aaron had booked the whole place just for you and the guests to celebrate your engagement and he had enlisted jack's help to plan the whole thing. jack, the bau team, and your friends and family were all there to shower you in love. the most memorable part of the night was the moment everyone sat down for dinner, all around a giant table (possibly multiple tables pushed together). as everyone moved to take their place jack ran so eagerly in front of you to pull your chair out before his father got the chance. you were shocked for a second before bursting out in a melodious laugh- it was so unexpected but you were incredibly moved. "oh, jack, thank you!" your loving, excited, and genuinely appreciative tone made jack's already huge grin grow even wider and more endearing. everyone else had noticed this too and laughed in joy along with you. "oh my god!" "that was so freakin cute" "he did not just do that!" rang out around you. of course aaron noticed, standing in silence for a second, a similar smile mirrored on his face, before he shook his head with a chuckle. as you took you seat, jack made sure to push your chair in just before you sat down fully, diligently executing what he'd studied his father do hundreds of times before. you turned to thank him, but before you could even open your mouth jack moved to take your cloth napkin from the table, shake it open, and carefully place it in your lap. awwws flooded in from all sides of the table

"oh you are just so adorable jack, thank you so much." you said as you pinched his still slightly chubby cheek "you are just the kindest, sir." you playful tone cause jacks entire face to blush and he shyly walked over to take a seat next to you.

"what? you take my job, and now you don't even want to sit next to me?" hotch spoke up from you other side. jack knew his father was joking, but he still bashfully giggled, sinking a bit more into his seat

"you better be careful, hotch," derek spoke up from across the table, motioning to his former boss with a breadstick, "looks like you got some competition there."

everyone broke out into more laughter, especially aaron. in the midst of the hysterics, the once-stoic man's hand crept into your lap to hold your own, thumbing over the back of your hand and the beautiful engagement ring wrapped around your finger. you shared a glance while you both laughed before you looked over to jack. wordlessly, your hand suddenly hopped up to ruffle up the little boy's hair, causing him to scrunch up his nose and giggle even more.

but you didn't have to say anything, your eyes held the truth. love. jack continued to look up at you, feelings of warmth, joy, and safety draped over him like a fuzzy throw, covering him from the crown of his head to the tips of his fingers and toes. he knew that with you in his life now, besides him and his father, everything would be okay.

A/N: SCREAMING how was this anon? sorry i didn't delve into the team teasing hotch more bc these thoughts were swimming in my head and i NEEDED to get them down perhaps i could do another post of just teasing quotes if that's something you'd like! i got a few ideas swimmin already teehee i hope you enjoyed my love!!

[stxrsniolo]

ㅤㅤִㅤ ݁ ꉂ just this once ᴖ ֽ ㅤᷭ

ㅤ﹙ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ﹚ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤaegan is typingㅤ˺⠀⠀tread carefully, my dears, for the words that follow are not for the faint of heart: what lies ahead is smut, a dance of desire that might just set your pulse racing. proceed if you dare.

warnings: explicit smut. rough sex. dubious consent. anger issues. trauma. ptsd. emotional vulnerability. hurt/comfort. power dynamics.

pairings: harsh leader!matt × fresh meat!reader

a/n: i literally spent hours looking up military-style terminology to write this, and even though i'm not entirely satisfied with the results (especially because not having prior knowledge about some of the terms and still using them makes me uncomfortable), i'm posting it because i find it interesting and i'm not going to throw away all the effort i put into it.

you can create your own experiences with harsh leader!matt with this c.ai bot here!

═══════════════════════════ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . 　 ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

the door to y/n’s quarters slammed shut with the force of a breaching charge, the sound ricocheting off the cinderblock walls like a gunshot. matt didn’t bother with the deadbolt—nobody in this godforsaken facility would have the balls to walk in on him, not when he was like this; he was a live grenade, fresh off a sit-down with the brass... those smug, pencil-pushing assholes who thought they could dress him down like some fresh-faced private.

his fists were still clenched, knuckles white like he was gripping the hilt of a combat knife, and the fury was a living thing, coiled in his chest, ready to detonate. he needed a target, and of course, she was the only one in mind. y/n didn’t even flinch when he stormed in, didn’t bat an eye as he started pacing like a caged animal, his combat boots pounding the concrete floor. “fuckin’ desk jockeys,” he snarled, his Boston accent thick, the words sharp as razor wire. “sittin’ there in their pressed uniforms, tellin’ me how to run my ops like they’ve ever held a goddamn rifle. I’d like to see ‘em last ten seconds in the field. Fuckin’ REMFs.”

rear echelon motherfuckers. he didn’t need her to answer, he didn’t want her to. he just needed her to take it, to absorb the blast wave of his rage. but then, like always, it shifted. one second, he was pacing, spitting venom; the next, he had her slammed against the wall, her wrists pinned above her head in a bone-crushing grip. his mouth crashed into hers, all teeth and tongue, no softness, no hesitation. it wasn’t a kiss; it was an assault, a hostile takeover as she didn’t fight him. not because she couldn’t—she’d gone toe-to-toe with him before—but because she wanted this. wanted him, even if neither of them would ever say it out loud. now, she was on top of him, straddling his waist on the narrow cot, her thighs clamping around his sides like a vice, but she wasn’t riding his cock, not yet, no, she was grinding her wet, aching pussy against his abs, the hard ridges of muscle slick with her juices as she moved.

her hands were braced on his chest, nails raking across his skin, leaving red welts in their wake while matt’s hands were on her hips, his grip bruising, fingers digging into her flesh like he was locking a mag into place. he guided her, controlled her, his biceps flexing as he forced her to move faster, harder, her clit dragging against the taut, slick surface of his abs, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through her body, making her gasp and moan like a bitch in heat. “fuckin’ tease,” he growled, his voice low and guttural, like the rumble of a humvee engine. his eyes were locked on her, dark and feral, watching the way her tits bounced with every movement, the way her lips parted as she panted for air. he could feel her wetness soaking through her panties, could smell her arousal, thick and heady. his cock strained against his fatigues, throbbing, aching to be buried balls-deep in her tight little cunt, but not yet, he wanted her desperate, begging, wanted to see her break before he gave her what she wanted. when he finally flipped her over, it was like a combat maneuver: swift, precise, no wasted movement. he yanked her panties down her thighs, the fabric tearing in his haste, and shoved her legs apart with his knees, his cock sprang free as he unzipped his fly, thick and hard, the head already glistening with pre-cum. he didn’t bother with preparation or warnings, didn’t bother with anything gentle, he just lined himself up and thrust into her in one brutal motion, burying himself to the hilt. she cried out, her back arching off the cot, her nails digging into his shoulders as he stretched her open, filled her completely. “fuck,” he grunted, his voice rough as gravel. “tight as a fuckin’ virgin.” he didn’t give her time to adjust, didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath, he pounded into her, hard and relentless, the cot creaking under the force of his thrusts. his hands gripped her hips, pulling her back onto his cock with every stroke, driving himself deeper, harder. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with her moans and his low, animalistic grunts. he didn’t care about her pleasure, not right now; this was about him—about the rage, the frustration, the need to dominate, to control. he fucked her like he was trying to break her, like she was just another target to be neutralized.

when he came, it was with a guttural growl, his cock twitching as he spilled inside her, filling her with hot, thick cum. he didn’t pull out right away, staying buried inside her as he caught his breath, his chest heaving like he’d just finished a ten-mile ruck march. then he rolled off her, collapsing onto his back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. she didn’t say anything, just turned onto her side, her back to him, pulling the thin blanket over herself. the space between them was a no-man’s-land, cold and silent but he didn’t care. he didn’t need her to stay close, he didn’t need anyone. sleep came fast, but it wasn’t peaceful, it never was for a soldier. the dreams hit like an ambush, dragging him back to the hellhole of his childhood: the fire, always the fire, and he was ten again, trapped in the house as the flames roared around him, the heat blistering his skin. the screams—his mom, his brothers—were drowned out by the crackle of burning wood, the shriek of collapsing beams. smoke filled his lungs, choking him, and the panic was a living thing, clawing at his chest, and he tried to move, tried to run, but his legs were lead, his body frozen, leaving him helpless like a scared little boy who couldn’t save anyone. he woke with a start, his body jerking like he’d been hit with a defibrillator, his chest was tight, his throat raw, and he realized, with a sickening clarity, that he was crying. hot, silent tears streamed down his face, soaking into the pillow; he hadn’t cried in years, not since the fire, not since he’d learned how to bury the pain deep enough that it couldn’t touch him, but now it was all flooding back, the memories like shrapnel tearing through his mind. he turned his head, his blurred vision landing on y/n, who was still asleep with her back to him, her breathing slow and steady. she looked peaceful, untouched by the chaos in his head and he hated her for it. hated how easily she could sleep, how she wasn’t drowning in the same nightmares. but he needed her. just this once. he moved before he could stop himself, sliding closer until his chest pressed against her back, arms wrapping around her tightly, desperate, like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. he buried his face in her hair, the scent of her—sweat and sex and something softer—grounding him, pulling him back from the edge. she stirred, a small sound escaping her lips, and then she turned in his arms, her eyes fluttering open. for a moment, she just looked at him, her gaze soft, unguarded, but she saw the tears eventually, the raw, broken look on his face, and something shifted; she didn’t say anything—thank fuck, because he couldn’t handle words right now, instead, she reached for him, her hands gentle as she cupped his face, her thumbs brushing away the tears. she pressed soft kisses to his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw, her lips warm and soothing against his skin, fingers sliding into his hair, stroking gently, and she pulled him closer, letting him bury his face in the crook of her neck. “it’s okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, like she was afraid to break the moment. “i’ve got you.” for once, matt didn’t push her away, didn’t tell her to fuck off, didn’t shove her back into her place, intead just held on, his grip on her like a lifeline, his breathing ragged as he tried to pull himself together. she didn’t let go, her hands moving in slow, comforting circles on his back, her lips brushing against his temple. it was soft, tender, everything he didn’t deserve, but for the first time in his life, he didn’t care. he needed this. he needed her. just this once, god, just this once, and he'll repeat those words until he believes them.

ㅤ﹙ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ﹚ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤaegan is typingㅤ˺ᅟ⠀ i appreciate the love shown through reposts, but let me be clear: my tales are not to be copied or adapted without a whisper to me first. my words are my treasure, and i guard them jealously.

my baddies: @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @blushsturns @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy

in case that you desire to be tagged in future works, here's the taglist.

[revelboo]

Your writing is phenomenal! The way you portray each character and expand on their personalities within the Transformers universe has me hooked from the first word. I am so glad you made a blog and thank you so much for sharing your works with us!!! I’m ashamed to admit how often I come back to check and see if anything new has been posted; and I just found your blog maybe two days ago. Thank you again for writing for us all!!!!!!

Thank you for reading my silliness!

Last Night Pt 5

Bumblebee x Reader

• Little steps forward, day by day. Figuring out that questions about your day are safe. About you, less so. Wanting to ask about everything, but trying so hard to not remind you that you’re here against your will, because it upsets you. And that upsets him. But you don’t flinch away if he brushes a servo against your shoulder or lightly touches the back of your hand to get your attention anymore. Little steps. “There are other humans here, right?” You ask him and he hesitates in scrolling through topographical maps. It’s not exactly a secret, though, so he nods. “Are we allowed to see each other?” When he doesn’t immediately answer, you hesitantly walk closer across the top of his desk and lay your little hands on his arm. Willingly reaching out to him for the first time as you look up at him with wide eyes. “Please?”

• Hands resting on his arm, it’s a surprise how warm he is under your palms. And he’s just staring at your hands on him, lips parted like you’ve shocked him. “I can ask,” he finally says, optics shifting to your face. Because even talking to strangers would be better than sitting here alone when he’s doing whatever secret alien things he does during the day. He’d volunteered that he was a scout, so you assume he explores. Maybe makes maps? You honestly have no idea. “Do you know what this is?” He asks and you lean against his arm to see the data pad screen.

• Freezing as you almost drape yourself across his arm, he’s afraid to move in case you realize what you’re doing and stop. It’s the most contact you’ve allowed so far and he can feel you breathing against him, the beat of your heart and your warmth. “Is that the old mine?” You ask, leveraging yourself even further on him to reach for the screen. Mimicking the gesture he uses to enlarge the image and he’s surprised you’ve been paying that much attention to him while he works. “It is. There was some sort of disaster years ago. I think they tapped into natural gas or something and blew themselves up.” Your little head turns to look up at him questioning, before you inhale, face reddening and slide off of him as if you’d just noticed what you were doing. How you were sprawled on him.

• “Energon,” he mutters as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, face hot because you were draped across his arm, butt in the air to reach the data pad screen. It’s not like he cares or is the least bit interested, but still. “We’ve been picking up traces, but haven’t been able to pin it down. But raw energon is highly reactive,” he pushes up from his desk, smacking the data pad against his palm as he paces. Energon is that glowing goop he drinks, but why would it be on Earth? You’ve never even heard of it before him. There’s no time to try to scurry away as he turns and picks you up in his hand and lifts you, doing a nauseating little twirl and laughing like an excited kid. Dizzy, you fall on your butt when he sets you back on your feet, but he’s already headed for the door, calling out over his shoulder that’ll he be back as you try to figure out what that was and why his excitement spreads warm through you, a smile pulling at your lips.

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[ken-dom]

Ken’s First Orgasm

Ken x reader

1.1k words

Summary: Since Ken entered the real world, he’s been experiencing some… feelings (AKA a good orgasm might calm him down)

Author’s Notes: It’s smutty, it’s tongue-in-cheek, it’s a little bit silly… just take it for what it is, enjoy the Kenergy and have fun 🩷

This was my first Ken fic, originally posted to my main blog under the title 'Ken's First Time.' Due to a tagging issue on my main, I'm reposting my works here to have everything in one place.

Warnings/content: NSFW, 18+, first kiss, first orgasm, making out, dry humping, hand job, gn!reader, Ken’s self doubt and nerves (and crying)

‘I’ve been getting these… urges, like, there’s something stirring deep inside me that I can’t seem to tame,’ Ken uttered huskily, fingers toying with the hair by your ear. ‘I think it might be because I’m craving… this.’

Biting his lip, he stared deep into your eyes, the heat of his gaze dropping down to your lips before slowly leaning in.

When you followed his lead, breath quickening as you tilted your head, he faltered, pulling back with a quiet growl and balling his fists in frustration.

He had hung on your every word all day, never taking his eyes off you for a single moment. And you’d noticed the way he lit up every time you looked at him… but now, you began to wonder if you’d done something to put him off.

‘Ken?’ you breathed carefully.

‘I- I’ve never…’ he hesitated.

Oh. That’s all it was. You dipped your head to meet his sparkling eyes again.

‘You’ve never kissed anyone?’ you asked gently, lifting your palm to rest softly against his handsome cheek.

Ken cleared his throat and forced a smile. ‘I’ve tried. Lots of times.’ He lifted his chin with mock confidence, as though trying to kiss was some sort of proud accomplishment. ‘You know how it can be.’

‘It’s alright,’ you soothed, rubbing your thumb soothingly over his cheekbone. Your mind raced with what else he probably hadn’t done either, the thought causing heat to pool at your core. ‘We’ll take it at your pace.’

The silky tone of your voice and the comfort of your words made him feel… dizzy? He blinked his gaze away, blushing. Feeling it again. That pull of something deep in his gut that made him want to submit himself to… whatever it was his body was craving so much. Damn it, he really needed to just get over it and kiss you.

You smiled warmly, leaning in again with pause enough to allow him time to decide. To your delight, he pressed forward, lips crashing soft and wet against yours, and as you parted your lips to encourage his tongue, he moaned loudly into your mouth while his fingertips drove hard into the flesh at your waist.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, it was suddenly hard to remember to breathe, his needy whines and desperate grabbing clouding your thoughts, causing your legs to tremble, but eventually you pulled away, panting.

‘Wow, Ken… that was-’

‘Terrible! I mean, you… you were great. I had no idea what I was doing. I'm not made for kissing, I’m only good at Beach.’ He shook his head, frustrated. ‘I shouldn’t have- mmh!… mmm…’

You shut him up instantly, diving back for more and inadvertently pushing him to lay back on the bed. You straddled him naturally, conscious thought still lost in the haze of excitement.

‘You- you liked it?’ he breathed huskily as you pulled up to get a look at how pretty he was, breathless with anticipation beneath you.

You nodded, humming in approval. ‘And it feels like you did too,’ you smirked, grinding down against his already aching erection.

The noise he made was unearthly, a growl and a whimper and a groan and a desperate exhale all at once. The pressure he had been feeling there released ever so slightly with a small pearl of precum, affording him a moment of bliss between the aching neediness.

You stilled, worried you’d hurt him somehow, but his eyes widened revealing pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates, and you realised it had been a sound of pleasure, not pain.

‘What… was… THAT?’ he cried out breathlessly. ‘That felt incredible! Sublime! That’s it! That’s what I’ve been craving?! Do it again? Please-’

The last word tapered into a whine as you rolled your hips to grind against him again, and he flopped down onto the pillow, eyes rolling back with overwhelming sensations he couldn’t find the words for.

‘Ken?’ you asked softly, leaning down, ‘you’ve never had an orgasm before have you?’

He shook his head.

‘Do you want to?’

He couldn’t catch his breath and his reply came out as a husky whisper. ‘Will it feel like that again?’

‘Better,’ you grinned wickedly.

‘Oh fuck, yes,’ he mumbled, not even realising he’d sworn. ‘Please.’

You leaned in to kiss him again, igniting the flames inside him that had been roaring since the first time you held his hand. Ken moaned in anticipation, closing his eyes tightly, composing and preparing himself.

You rocked your hips only once more and he exploded, fists bunching the sheets while you continued to writhe against him, his back arching off the bed and tears prickling at his eyes as his orgasm tore through every fibre of his being.

It was like nothing else. How had he never so much as wondered what this would be like until he had entered the real world and discovered human feelings and thoughts… and needs.

His chest heaved as he came down from his high, lazily lifting an arm to rest over his forehead in complete surrender while he tried to claw his way back to the present, with you.

When he opened his eyes, he was met with you smiling down at him, nothing short of smug.

‘Was that- did I-?’ he stuttered.

‘You sure did,’ you panted, heart pounding and heat rushing down to keeping your own arousal simmering. God, he was a picture, mussed hair and pink cheeks and heavy eye lids.

‘Oh… oh, that was, it was-’

You chuckled, climbing off him to settle at his side, where he turned to face you.

‘Should I have… you know? Was there something I didn’t do? You didn’t…’

The concern in his eyes was endearing, but you laughed again and he relaxed. Another tear slid down his cheek as you caressed his arm tenderly.

‘Don’t worry, Ken, we have time for that. I get the feeling you’ll be great at… doing stuff. Besides, that wasn’t quite the whole thing. I’m glad it felt good, but there’s a lot more I can show you. If you want me to…’

Ken snorted a disbelieving laugh. ‘Well, good, because these urges I’ve been getting? I think they might have actually been for-’

‘Orgasms,’ you interrupted with a smirk. ��Yeah, humans tend to get that a lot.’

‘I’m not surprised! How do you get through the day without doing that at regular intervals?’

You laughed, gently wiping the tears from his cheeks. ‘It will calm down when you’re a little more used to it. In the meantime… let’s make the most of your libido, yes?’

‘Absolutely,’ he agreed eagerly, as though the word libido meant anything at all to him. Nevertheless, he was as eager as anything for another round.

‘I’m going to start undressing you this time… if that’s alright?’ you muttered seductively, kissing at his collar bone while your fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt.

‘Of course. You don’t have a body like mine for nothing. Well, I suppose it’s main purpose is for Beach, but-’

‘Ken?’

‘Yeah?’

You didn’t use any more words, and he suddenly lost all concept of his own thoughts when your hand slid inside his beach shorts.

‘How does this feel?’ you whispered as your fingers wrapped loosely around his thick length and pumped slowly, lightly. You didn’t want to overwhelm him too soon.

‘R-real- f-fucking- oh!- good, hnnng…’

[bangchansbackohmygod]

MTL for Dry Humping: SKZ Edition

-Most-

Han: Nasty Boy. Freak in the sheets. Desperate slut. "Hannie, not when other people can see!" "Han, wait until the movie is over-" "JISUNG. GIVE ME TWO SECONDS TO GET OFF MY PANTS" He ain't listening, babygirl! He wants you bad and he wants you now, so unless you're gonna use a judo move to swing him over your shoulder, the first time the two of you orgasm per sexy time is dry humping without fail. He's still a nice boy so if you were ever actually upset he'd let you go without hesitation, but let's be honest, your complaints don't hold much weight when you start panting as soon as he starts grinding his hips against you.

Changbin: Post gym sex! Post gym sex! He's sweaty and he's full of adrenaline and he isn't gonna try and pull off his sticky gear when he can get some relief from your supple curves right now! You should start working out with him because otherwise he'll be coming home and getting sweat (and drool and ***) all over your cute pajamas. Bucks against you extra hard if you stroke his muscles and praise him for how hard he's been working. Worship all of him because he's going to be doing the same to you.

Lee Know: His favorite thing- withholding as much as he can while giving you just enough to make sure you fall over the edge. He wants to hear you whimper and cry about how much you want him to touch you, how much you want him inside you, while all he does is drag your hips up and down his lap. Coos sweet poison in your ear as he feels your dampness growing, his glittering eyes betraying none of the frenzy he feels underneath. The act itself doesn't do much for him, it just turns him on like nothing else to watch you shudder through a climax that he barely put in work to give you. He's mean and he's going to make sure you enjoy every second of it.

Jeongin: Cute little puppy boy, so embarrassed at how often he wants you. Like I’ve previously stated, I feel like his mind gets a bit fuzzy when he’s in the throes of passion. That sweet, fumbling, wonderful personal time that he wants to give his best for you in. Of course, when he trips on his way to the bed, pinning you down with his full weight and failing to unbutton your jeans, his plans to bring you to deliberate ecstasy with his fingers is traded for rutting against you like a beast without a thought. It’s how you like your baby best, eyes watery and cheeks red as he apologizes for taking what he wanted (which, of course, is what you wanted)

Felix: Our gentle jack-of-all-trades, he's much more dependent on your preferences and so he'll be doing this only upon request. When he does, he prefers to have you perched on his lap. His princess, all pretty in your lacy little negligee. He wants to be strong for you in a way that he doesn’t usually show. His forehead resting against yours as he softly talks you through it between his own low groans, his hands alternating between your thighs, hips, and waist as he finds the perfect pace. Kiss him slow and kiss him deep, in this moment he is completely and utterly yours.

Chan: He may like to tease, but he likes giving you what you want even more. You're so good to him, and he just wants to reward that goodness, yeah? So it’s not like he doesn’t enjoy…*ahem* holding himself against you, he just has trouble keeping himself from doing more. That whine you make when you can feel his excitement against your thigh, it just makes him want to dip his fingers inside you as a taste of what’s to come. Or to hook your legs over his shoulders so he can literally taste the nectar flowing out of you. He’s not an impatient man, but for you? Anything short of ravishing you is a waste of his time.

Seungmin: With a mix of a lower libido and a general air that he's used to the finer things, I just feel like it'd be rare for him. He likes his privacy and he likes getting his way, so despite his age he isn't gonna act like some horny teenager when it comes to sex. When it's time, it's time, and while he won't be mean about it like Minho, he won't budge an inch on getting you both your full satisfaction. Funnily enough, the only times he'll offer it up is when you least expect it. He thinks it's funny to catch you off your guard, pressing you against an alleyway wall and asking if you want to get off on his thigh now or not get off that way for the rest of the year.

Hyunjin: What's that you say? Hyunjin can't possibly be the least? What about his signature elegant laziness in his dance style? What about the Red Lights MV? Surely he's kinky enough for this?! Well guess what, you're wrong! I consulted the cards and they told me he'd absolutely never dry hump you because he's too much of a brat. He's not gonna settle for your shorts when he could be buried in your tight hot wetness. He's gonna throw a very pretty tantrum if you grind on him for more than thirty seconds without moving to undress. He's poetry in motion, all limbs and lips and sensuality- what makes you think he's gonna waste his lovemaking time on anything other than direct contact?

-Least-

(Anyway hi kids I'm back from the dead have a post I love you all)

[separatetheyolk]

The Timeline Of Coming Out | Carlos Sainz X Trans!Reader

ʚɞ part one

ʚɞ featuring: Carlos Sainz

ʚɞ You come out as transgender to your boyfriend and navigate your transition together

ʚɞ notes: I'm deciding not to do bottom surgery in this because 1, im not educated enough (despite being a trans guy) and 2, its much less common then top surgery. Reader will be going on testosterone, top surgery adnall the things that come with a social transition. This is going to be very heavy on the affects of being transgender, highs and lows. That includes lows of depression, considerations of self harm and suicidal ideation, transphobia, but also highs like transiton accomplishments.

ʚɞ It is impossible for me to put trigger warnings on everything in this so it is a heavy read at your own risk. If you are easily triggered whether dysphoria, mental health or both, I suggest skipping this one <3

ʚɞ I can tell you though that theres a google translate warning lol

READ TAGS

You grsbbed the small package on the floor by the front door, swallowing thickly. "Babe? Is that the post?" Carlos called from the kitchen. "Anything for me?" You grabbed the letters still stuck in the letter box, slowly walking to Carlos with your eyes still fixed to the grey package in your hand. You set the letters down in the counter, assuming it would all be for him or just junk. "Gracias guapo.." Carlos murmered, picking up one of the letters and began to tear into it.

He got half way through the contents of the letter when he'd realised he hadn't actually gotten a response from you, looking around the room and spotted that you'd migrated to the sofa. "Baby? Everything alright?" He asked, picking up the letters and began to move over to you.

He dropped them onto the coffee table, looking to your hands and spotting the parcel easily. "Ah, here already?" He asked, moving to sit beside you.

"I don't know why I'm hesitating.." You whispered. "I shoud be happy, right? Why is part of me still saying this is wrong?" You paused, feeling Carlos wrap an arm around you and gently directed you to his side.

"Let me see.." He murmered as he took the package, tearing it open with ease and pulled out the white fabric. Unfolding it so it would take the shape of your binder. He set it on the coffee table beside forgotten letters, smoothing out any creases from the clothing. "It can stay here until you're ready. This is at your pace.."

The following few days the binder caught your eye as you'd walked past it. The third day, you couldn't take your eyes off it. The fourth, haircut day, you'd grabbed it from the table rather quickly and headed back upstairs to your bedroom. "Could.. You help me put it on?" You spoke from the doorway, looking to Carlos still lying in bed.

He looked up from the book he'd been lost in when you spoke up, turning to you holding up the binder. "Of course I can, mi amor.." His voice was soft, gentle. He slipped out of bed, slid on some shorts and made his way over to you. Carefully, he took the binder from you, letting you pull the oversized hoodie over your head. You kept your back to him, taking the binder back so you could slip it on part way. You felt the man press kisses to your shoulder, neck and back for a few moments before he pulled away, pressing one lass kiss to the back of your head. Then, let you start to put on the binder. You managed to get it over your head, Caros reaching around to your front and pulled the fabric down so your hands weren't stuck in the air, then brought his hands around your back and evened it out there too.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you for a moment. The two of you standing in silence with no need to talk. Kisses still being left wherever Carlos could reach. After about thirty seconds, he slowly let you go. "Go see if you like it then, handsome." You heard, nodding slowly in response and grabbed one of his shirts from the wardrobe as you went. You made your way to the en-suite, Looking to yourself in the mirror while Carlos stood in the doorway. Slowly, you turned to your side, mood dropping when you saw the bump of your chest still. You knew that it all had to go somewhere. But there was still a dilusional side that had thought you'd be completely flat.

Carlos, your ever attentive boyfriend spotted the sag in your shoulders, shaking his head. "Put on the shirt, mi amor." He spoke, standing upright away from the doorframe. You looked to the shirt, sighing softly. It couldn't look any worse, surely. You pulled the clothing over your head, ever so slightly too big, strap if your binder showing, but it looked better. Instantly better. The part of the binder that stuck out away from yor ribs around the bottom held the shirt away from your chest a little allowing it to taper down and caused the curve on your chest to be less noticeable.

Carlos rose an eyebrow, waiting for any response but you just.. Stared at yourself. "Well?"

"It's.. Amazing." you whispered, smile growing as you spoke.

You stood from the barbers chair. Doing one last checkover in the mirror. You'd mostly kept a straight face thoughout the cut. Watching as the length of your hair fell to the floor. The more that was cut, the more strange it felt. Your head was unbelievably lighter, the breeze down your neck was causing shivers and twitches every so often, everything sounded so much clearer without hair covering your ears.

You done one last check in the mirror, hand running through your fringe, a small smile now on your face. It looked strange, would take some getting used to. But it felt right. Still, part of you couldn't decide if you liked that feeling. You thanked the man as you walked around the corner and to the waiting room.

Carlos looked up to his phone when he heard footsteps coming around the corner. Looking to see you, short hair and all, grin spreading on his face which in turn, caused that small smile on your own to widen. You walked over to him, slight shuffle in your step and a blush spreading on the tips of your ears as you pressed your face into his chest. Carlos set his hand against the the back of your head, the touch felt weird with te shaved back but again, felt right. "You like it?" You mumbled to him, feeling a kiss press to the top of your head.

"I love it.." He muttered, holding his card to the reader to pay for the cut. Both of you leaving after a second appointment had been booked. "How about we grab a bite to eat? We hardly ever eat out." He hummed, looking to you as he wrapped an arm arond your waist.

"Sure, where were you thinking?"

You followed Carlos though busy streets, holding his hand tightly as you'd dodge strangers. Trying your best to keep out of their way and more importantly keep out of cameras. He hummed softly, leading you down a cobbled street and into a small cafe, cute and cosy. Lights strung up in rafters, dark wooden booths, tables and chairs. "The usual?" He asked, looking down to you then nodded it to the side to getsture to the till.

"Please. I'll go find us a seat." You spoke softly, stealing a quick kiss from him before leaving his side. You walked further into the cafe, stopping abruptly when a man pushed out his chair to stand.

"Lo siento señor" He apologised, you'd done a double take behind you thinking Carlos must have followed behind you. Finding him still at the till ordering. He'd called you sir? You felt happiness creap into your chest, giving the man a smile and nod as you made your way past him. He'd called you sir.

You managed to find a booth easily enough, slipping inside and lent on the table with a smile. A stranger had called you sir. "What's got you so happy?" Carlos asked as he sat down, causing you to jump ever so slightly. You waited for him to shuffle further inside, taking one of your hands across the table.

"Someone called me sir."

Weeks continued as normal after that. Though you had mostly kept yourself inside the house. You hadn't come out yet, to anyone. Not your parents, or friends, not anyone on the grid and certainly not online. Still grappling with what being trans meant for you, what you wanted, what you didn't, trying to put yourself in situatuons such as transphobia, how it would affect you. How it would affect you if someone you loved didn't support you. You didn't want to be spotted or outed before you wanted to out yourself.

Right now? You were grappling with the idea of getting out of bed. Today was supposed to be productive. Carlos was on his usual bike ride, he'd get back, have his shower and you'd both clean up the house. But the idea if your body being on display made you want to claw your way out of your skin. Even if it was just Carlos that saw you. It was strange, ever since aknowledging your trans identity, the dysphoria had dialed up to eleven. Your body was ultimately nothing new to you or Carlos, nothing either of you hadn't seen before. But regardless, you wanted nothing more than to keep it hidden.

Carlos came home about two hours later, bike left in the hallway as usual, helmate left on the sofa, shoes toed off and left at the door. "Baby?" Carlos called, looking around the ground floor for you first. When he came up short, he moved upstairs. Checking the bedroom first. There you were, lying in bed still, blankets pulled to your face and a quiet sniffle coming from the pile.

"Mi amor?" Carlos moved into the room slowly, leaning on the bed with a closed fist first. "Guapo?" He muttered, pushing the blanket down to spot you, clearly you'd been crying. Eyes red and puffy, face wet and a damp spot on the duvet. "Oh mi amor.." He whispered, carefully bundling you up in the duvet as he picked you up. Taking your spot on the bed and set you down in his lap. Somehow, even unknowingly, Carlos done exactly what you needed. Holding you, while keeping your body hidden and under wraps. "What is it? What's wrong?"

The question brought everything back up to the surface you'd only just supressed ten minutes prior, a new wave of tears smothering you without warning causing you to break down into uncontrolable and ugly sobs. You moved to hold onto him, not caring for the sweat, grime and dirt. One hand wrapped around his back and gripping the fabric at the back of his spandex, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and your other arm coming over his right shoulder and holding onto the fabric of his left.

"Oh- okay alright.." He murmered, wrapping his arms around your own frame in a tight hug. "Okay.. You're okay baby.. I got you.." You felt as Carlos ran a hand to your neck, massaging it gently in a soothing motion. He let you have your cry. Ugly and messy, skin red puffy, capillaries broken, eyes bloodshot and glossy, cheeks soaked and hair a mess.

Once you'd calmed down some, that taking about half an hour, Carlos directed you away from his neck, hands leaving your back and cupped your cheeks instead. Hos thumbs glided over them, drying your cheeks gently as he placed a kiss to your forehead. "Please talk." He mumbled against your skin. Once your cheeks had dried off, he allowed you to cuddle back up. This time, your arms wrapped around his waist and leaning into his chest. Carlos shuffling further down in the bed.

"I hate myself.." You murmered. Before Carlos could ask why, you continued to speak. "I hate myself for allowing me to explore this, I hate myself for not ever being happy if i didn't, I hate myself for the body i've got. I hate myself for just not being grateful that I'm even alive, I hate myself for putting you through all of this, I hate myself for just.. hating everything about myself."

Carlos frowned at that, hand running through greasy hair without a care for it. "I read that can be normal while you.." He paused, trying to figure out what word it was he was looking for in English. "Adjust.. You might know who you are, but it's a big change for you too. Learning to accept who you are while also knowing others will too is hard. Everything will change in how you're.. Percibido. What's the word- perceived. Some of it will be good, some will be bad. You can't control what people will think but you can control how it will affect you." He heard you sniffle, nodding agaist his chest. He sighed softly, looking down to you. "Would you prefer to keep busy today or just cuddle?"

You thought for a moment before shaking your head. "I'm really tired.." You confessed, removing one hand from around Carlos and pulled the duvet further up so it was half way up your face. Trying to cozy yourself up.

"Cuddles for you it is, mi amor."

[chocolatecoveredfanfics]

No Nut November

Heartsteel! Ezreal x Fem! Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Fingering

Cross-posted from AO3

Is this still a thing? Lol. Me thinks Ez would be the type to do a challenge like this. Hint at the end for next collection in December ; )

''No Nut November' what a stupid thing' you thought to yourself, only to let out a soft whine at the feeling of Ezreal's thumb rubbing against your clit in slow circles. Your back was pressed up against his chest, his legs around you as you sat crossed-legged. Honestly, this challenge was so dumb. When you came over to visit Ez, you expected a good dicking, not a stupid explanation of why he can't. 

"Hey! It's not dumb! There's a lot at stake! Plus it's beneficial to your health!" You wanted to wipe that stupid grin off his face. You had no idea what was betted, and you honestly didn't care enough to ask. But what you did know was that there were other participants in this household. And you didn't want to question any further. "Just because I can't doesn't mean you can't either…" The wiggle of Ez's eyebrows and grin at his suggestive comment pissed you off even more. So now, here you are. Panting at the feeling of Ezreal's fingers stuffed in your cunt while the other worked against your clit.

Your manicured nails bite into his toned arms as his fingers pumped in and out of your tight walls at a languid pace. "That's it baby..." Ezreal groaned into your ear. You let out another whine when his fingers started to scissor in and out of you. Your eyes drawn to watching his fingers play with your messy cunt. The feeling of his clothed hard-on pressing against your back was distracting and you bucked your hips backwards into him, grinding your ass against his bulge. He lets out a hiss in-between clenched teeth, "Hey now~ You gotta control yourself babe." He said while his fingers curled, teasing his finger tips against your walls. You let out a sob in response, "Ezreal! Please!" 

You felt the vibrations of a deep chuck and he leaned close to your ear, nipping softly at it. "I can't say no to that adorable face. You're so cute like this baby." He then pressed a kiss to your shoulder and you let out a soft moan. Not giving you a chance to process his words his fingers start to pick up the pace, curving them upwards just right to hit the spot in you that makes you see stars.

"Ah! Right there Ez! Right there!" You cried out, hips bucking up into his hand. He let out a low chuckle and a moan, holding you down. "Shhh... Let me take care of you~" He cooed into your ear, continuing the fast pace of his fingers going in and out of your tightening core. Occasionally his fingers would hit that spot, teetering you closer and closer to the edge. 

You turned your head to the side to look up at him, begging for release. He groaned at your pleading look, letting out a breathless "fuck" before swooping down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. 

So close, you were so close. The feeling of his fingers rubbing your walls sensually as he pumped in and out, the wet sounds of his fingers stuffing your core, and the feeling of his thumb swiping roughly against your clit; all these sensations combined helping to push you to your climax. You let out a wild cry when he pinched your clit between two fingers, the combination of pain and pleasure finally giving you release. He quickly shoved his tongue into your mouth, muffling your cries with an open mouth kiss as you came. You both groaned into the kiss as your walls spasmed around his fingers. Ezreal drawed out your orgasm with slowing pumps of his fingers, before you tugged at his hair at the oversensitivity.

He lets out a chuckle and gives you one last peck to your lips and finally pulls his fingers out of you, stretching them to see the strings of your arousal glistening on his fingers. You watch as he slowly brings them to your lips and without an ounce of hesitation you start to lap at his fingers. "Good girl..." He groaned, leaning into lap his glistening fingers with you. Your tongues dancing around his digits and caressing each other's. Both letting out a moan at the taste of yourself on his fingers and against your tongues. 

Once he was satisfied with how clean his fingers were he moved his hand away to grab at the back of your head and give you a searing kiss. "Fuck babe, you're making this hard for me." He chuckled against your lips but quickly got up and headed to his in-suite bathroom, not giving you a chance to respond to him.

You let out an annoyed 'humph' and grabbed your phone to scroll through it mindlessly while Ezreal went into the bathroom to wash his hands (and most likely take some selfies). You typed 'No Nut November' in the search bar, a bit curious about this dumb challenge. The Wikipedia page gave you all the information you needed and you rolled your eyes at the description. Before a bold header caught your attention:

Destroy Dick December? Huh. 

You bite your bottom lip, trying to contain your mischievous expression as you peeked over your phone to look at Ez, blissfully unaware of your schemes brewing up in your mind this coming December. This was gonna be fun.

[readychilledwine]

Lose You to Love Me

Summary - You had wanted him for years, loved him for centuries, and waited for him to notice you and see you. But all books have to close, even if we don't like the ending.

Warnings - NSFW, oral, pentration, unrequited love/blind lovers, sex as a tool, the infamous solstice night, implied big brother knows/forbidden romance situation,

A/N - our last @azrielappreciationweek post. Some angst, smut, and feels for us to end the week. I will back from vacation tomorrow and cannot wait to see how this piece went over. 💙 ps. My hormones are all over the place, so I may have cried rereading this because it is such a familiar feeling that we all know. Hopefully, I caught all my errors.

Peep pt 2 here

You threw the last book into your bag, sighing heavily as it entered the pocket world and disappeared to your new waiting chambers in Winter. 

You had tried to tell Rhysand you were leaving. Tried to talk to him about the position Kal had offered you, when you'd be going, how this was a set in stone for good move. Did your sweet distracted older brother listen, though? No.

He had not bothered listening since Feyre came. Cassian had not bothered since Nesta was made. And Azriel? Well, that was a complicated story of its own. One you tended not to linger long on, even in your own mind.

Simply put, you were no longer needed here. Meanwhile, Kal, his court needed you. It was still recovering from Amarantha's attacks, and your ability to speak to the land and find where darkness was plaguing it would be a boon to him and his efforts. You had agreed with little hesitation, mind completely open to the new beginning he was offering. 

Your only guilt was choosing to run in the middle of the night on Solstice. 

You left your room to leave a note on the table for Rhys, pausing as you almost ran into Azriel. "Sorry-"

He interrupted your thoughts immediately,  cool shadows looking you over. "What's wrong?" Hazel eyes studied you, reopening the doorway to your room and forcing you back inside. "Y/n, what's wrong?" 

You shook your head, moving to embrace him one last time before you left. 

Azriel was still in your arms, one hand on the small of your back as even his breath came to a pause. "Y/n, where are your things? Why is your room empty?" 

"I'm leaving," your voice was muffled into the soft material of his shirt. "I've been telling you for months, Az."

Azriel pulled you back looking down at you in shock. "We thought you were kidding. You can't leave. Theres-" his jaw had a feather twitch as it clenched. "What can I do to make you stay?"

You shook your head again, watching as his face fell and tears lined both of your eyes. 

Something in Azriel changed in that moment, and the next thing you knew, his lips had slammed on yours, a hand tangled into your hair while the other snaked around your waist. He backed you to the bed, lips moving against yours as if he had been hoarding a lifetime of passion. He lowered you gently, immediately studying you and waiting for permission to continue. 

With a shaking breath, you nodded. A soft "please," falling from your lips. He began his assault again, gently this time though, lips moving at a slow pace as he crawled on top of you. You began unbuttoning his shirt, hands sprawling his bare chest once it was exposed, before moving to the back to undo the closures around his wings and take the material off completely. 

His lips moved to your jawline nipping softly at the flesh there and then to your neck. He growled at the soft gasp that left your mouth as he found the spot between your neck and shoulder that made your body tingle and skin ignite in goosebumps.

He took you removing his shirt as permission to remove yours. Then the soft lace bra he paused to admire. "Is this okay," he whispered in your neck. "You would tell me to stop, right?" 

"Yes," it was a breathless answer again, fueling him to grab more of that from you. 

You had wanted this, wanted him, since you were old enough to understand what these feelings were. This was bittersweet. You knew it was him giving one last ditch effort to keep you here. You knew it wasn't more than him caving to what he knew you had always wanted. 

At least in your mind, that's what you believed. For Azriel, this was the crescendo to a long slow dance the two of you had played for centuries now. You were beautiful, kind, loving, and he only had one chance at this, one moment to hold you, he'd take it regardless of those consequences. Regardless of the fist fight he'd have to survive tomorrow, he'd worship you this one night if this was his last chance to do it.

A soft moan left you and your back arched as he began to suck, lick, and gently roll your nipple between his teeth. His hand played with the other breast as he took his time ensuring that your sensitive peak was hardened before switching his mouth to the otherside pulling those same panting moans from you as your own hand tangled back into his silken hair. 

Scarred hands hooked into the waistband of your soft leggings as Azriel released your breast with a soft pop. He looked up at you again, waiting for permission before sliding them down, groaning softly as the soaked lace panties you were wearing. 

"I'd like to believe you wore these just for me," he muttered. 

You whispered back, "How do you know I wasn't?" And something ignited in his eyes. Ripping them off of you while maintaining eye contact and growling in response. He wasted no time, settling between your legs and kissing from inner knee to thigh as he placed your legs over his shoulders. 

That first lick had your head thrown back into the pillows, back arching, and lips parting in shock. Azriel looked up at you through hooded eyes, hazel lost in lust as he savored you, licking through your folds again before nudging that swelling bundle of nerves. Shadows came to your wrists, pulling them above your head and locking your arms there. It left you completely to his mercy. And that was exactly how he needed you. 

He began to alternate between pushing his tongue as deep into you as he could, licking and drinking the nectar flowing from your core to moaning and humming, his lips sucking your clit. 

You were panting, writhing in place, and moaning for him, begging him for more, for everything. "Azriel, please," you cried as his tongue found your entrance again. He took mercy on you then, latching his lips around your clit rolling it below his tongue gently all while a finger began to run through your soaking heat and then pushed in. 

The Silent scream that left your mouth had him doubling his efforts, wanting to hear the real thing fall from your lips as he began searching. A whiny loud moan left your lips when he found his target, that soft silk spot inside of you. He began pulling that single finger in and out, curling it with each thrust as he continued licking at you clit and moaning as your hips began to roll and grind. That second finger had you panting, his name falling again and again as your eyes fluttered shut and back fully arched. You were close, so fucking close and he could tell. "Cum for me. Look at me and cum for me, y/n. Let me see you fall apart." You obeyed without question as he moved to be above you, watching your face as his fingers pulled you apart string by string. His thumb came to your clit, gently circling the nerves, and when you came, you swore you saw the night sky in her entirety. You screamed his name before falling into whine like moans as he kissed you to silence the noises you were making. 

They were for him and him alone tonight. 

He removed his fingers from you, bringing them to your lips and watched under clouded eyes as you licked and sucked them clean. 

It was desperation that had your hands flying to the ties of his pants, eyes locked on his as you got them loose and pulled them down, releasing his heavy hard cock. You began stroking him, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you finally felt the weight of him, the softness of him in your hands. Azriel groaned, leaning to grab the headboard above you, lost in the feeling of your smooth hand working him, enjoying the way lust had set in so heavily you dropped all inhibitions for him. His hips began to move in time with your hand. Moaning as he felt his stomach tighten in anticipation. He grabbed your wrist, squeezing it gently to stop you. "Next time," he stated firmly. And guilt set in as you watched him undress fully, there would not be a next time. Your heart could hardly handle this.

You couldn't handle being his flavor of the week, distracting him from his clear wants to be with another. You would take one night, close this chapter, and let go of him, freeing yourself of these unrequited feelings burning inside of you.

He wrapped your legs around his waist lining himself up with your entrance. He pushed in gently, watching your face the entire time as your eyes squeezed shut, breath leaving your lungs. 

You had never felt so full and complete in your life, and you knew deep down you would never feel this again. 

How could you? You were allowing himself to ruin you for any other male, knowing damn well about that string in your chest that never snapped for him. 

Azriel rolled his hips, eyes squeezing shut as your heat swallowed him whole, consuming every inch of him and his soul. You were incomparable and irreplaceable, and his mission set in now. 

Showing you exactly what you meant to him the only way he truly knew how. Gentle kisses came with gentle thrusts, praises whispered in your ear of how much he cared for you, how beautiful you were. Your legs wrapped his waist tighter, hands scratching down his back as those hard deep thrusts hit and filled every inch of you, setting your nerves and body on fire. "Gods I love you," he whispered once he lost himself in bliss. "I love you so fucking much."

And you whispered it back, knowing it was your one chance to tell him. Knowing this was goodbye and tomorrow he'd go back to pursuing Elain. You whispered it over and over, his forehead finding yours as those thrusts picked up pace, hitting that perfect spot every time. "I've always loved you," he whispered. "It's always been you." 

Meaningless words. Words meant to comfort you as if he knew what he was doing. As if he knew the years of tearing yourself apart you had gone through. "I'm right there, baby," he moved to kiss you again, a shadow coming between you to lick at your clit. "Need you to come with me. Need to feel you. Please, y/n," he moaned into your neck. "Please, give me one more baby." 

"Harder," you commanded gently. Needing him to hurt you. "If you want me to come, fuck me harder." 

Legs went from his waist to over his shoulders, allowing him deeper into you, and he began a brutal pace, smirking as you began to shake around him immediately. He had you seeing stars already, that coill tightening over and over like a string waiting to bust. Fingers gently went to a splayed wing, touching the ridge and making Azriel roar as he spilled into you without warning, and triggering your own completion. 

He held you in place, a few sloppy ruts into your seed filled cunt before he pulled out and laid next to you. He pulled your bare body to his, your back meeting his chest. 

Neither of you spoke, words having already been said that you both meant to take to your grave. 

You waited until he fell asleep, kissing him one last time and dressing yourself. You stepped onto the balcony, summoning your wings and wiping the tears that were falling. 

You took off, closing the book of your time in the Night Court as you did along with ending the tragic love story between you and Azriel. 

The next morning, Azriel woke up to an agonizing cry and scream. One he knew belonged to Rhysand. You were gone, your side of the bed empty. He immediately sent shadows to search for you before shielding the scent of sex that lingered on his skin and grabbing his clothing to shift himself to his room.

He had barely pulled pants on before Rhys was at his door, tears streaming as he handed Azriel a note. "Find her. Please find her. Please bring her home. I." Rhys didn't need to explain as Azriel pulled him to his chest. "I can't lose her. Please find her."

And as Azriel held Rhys, he swore on that golden glittering bond he would not stop until he did find you. And he would not stop until you realized those words he whispered to you last night weren't just words. They were his truth.

[huggywuggysuppy]

Gem and Pearl chatted lightly about the WL finale on Pearl's Dec 4th stream (here) and now we know what they meant.

Among references to Pearl's wet catness, at 1:55:30:

Gem: We're both a little bit pathetic in wild life, it's fine.

Pearl: I don't know if you can call yourself pathetic, Gem. I really don't-

Gem: I think-I think I was pathetic yesterday [in the finale.]

Pearl: You reckon?

Gem: I mean I've got like the biggest target on my back ever so it's like doomed, but I think it was a little bit pathetic

Pearl: mmmmm I don't want to spoil anything otherwise I would have a full blown conversation about why you think that. But also I can't. [because spoilers]

So why'd they say all that? Spoiler analysis ahead!

Gem lost her final life to the wildcard all alone at her base, which isn't the most interesting death. Many of the CC's have mentioned that a boring final death sucks -- even in the same stream Pearl mentions she hesitates to fight reds cause she doesn't want to inflict a bad finale on them. Also, in the ep Gem muses that she regrets holding herself back so much from murder -- the "sweat" accusations are really getting to all the CC's I fear. Gem isn't pathetic, and had a lot of entertaining moments in her ep, but the death was unsatisfying.

Pearl hesitated to even post her finale in part because she thought it was boring / unfulfilling. The wet cat bit is funny (and she's sort of owning it?) but even its origin is messy. Due to Aussie ping (as she demonstrated earlier in the stream), it was straight up improbable to get a mace kill, no matter how much she tried. She was fighting lag the rest of the episode too due to the wildcard overload. That was on top of episodes worth of failed traps, storylines, and murder attempts, that were largely foiled by not having enough time to do them properly. Placed final 5 as always, but she suffered the whole way there and mostly just survived without getting any kills herself.

Most importantly: neither of them got to enjoy/execute their divorce arc plans. It's an ongoing problem with WL but especially noticeable in the finale. Neither of them wanted to rush things, but the series forced their hands! Joel kept interrupting with (valid) murder attempts, and Pearl actively tried saving Gem when she was getting attacked by the rest of the server. Everyone loves and longs for another Murder Camel team up, CC's included, but it just wasn't viable. They agreed to hold off on their foreshadowed 1v1 until Gem was red, where she then died right before the wildcards deactivated (when there was room for lore/rp.) Overall, they were punished for pacing things out.

And why wouldn't they feel bad after that? Gem died unceremoniously, Pearl slogged through the ep with very little payoff, and neither got to fulfill their season long arcs. And that's what everyone's here for at the end of the day: telling a good story! Life series is special for its specific brand of focusing on RP, which is why the "a gimmick an episode" format hurt so bad. The CC's aren't pathetic, the wildcards are the problem.

(I hope the CC's feel better after the positive reception they HAVE gotten from the ep, as we still enjoyed the season and storyline they did squeeze in. Joel's ep in particular was still fire inc the final fight, although I dream of the au where Gem makes it to the end with him.)

(Pearl's stream line about "wanting a full convo" says good things about the CC's examining what went wrong and why so many people walked away unsatisfied. It's also sweet that the girlies don't want each other to think they're "pathetic /srs" instead of "pathetic /wet cat." I trust Grian + co. will figure things out for (hopefully) next time.)

[velvetures]

Vulnerable pt.2

A/N: Due to everyone's love for the first installment, here's a continuation! It's not full NS/FW to "completion", however, a third post will finish up the little mini-series if part two does well enough. Summary: After getting Ghost to release his tensions after a harsh mission, you're surprised to see how far things go. Ghost is just as shocked. TW's: sexual content NS/FW 18+ ONLY, fem reader, cursing, sexual thoughts, intimacy, not proofread. If I missed something... let me know.

Read Part One Here

Ghost’s eyes flicker in the dim light with something you’ve never seen before. It’s similar to the pain you’ve seen on his face when trying to nurse a stab or gunshot wound. Tinged around the edges with a panic and cracked lines of desperation. For such a strong and self-proclaimed heartless man, his eyes show so much deeper a story. One that calls out happily at the idea of keeping you close to him like this. Interested. Much more than he’d ever felt before.

“If you want to, we could lay down?” You suggest gently, looking at the bed and then back to him. “I’ll keep going.”

Those silently expressive eyes shift all over again. “Yes.”

You stay still, allowing him to choose the pace and tone of this. Wanting him comfortable and feeling safe with you. All of it could stop the second he made it clear, but for some reason, you really couldn’t understand why the Lieutenant was letting you in. And it wasn’t because you were massaging his back. Twisting his lower half onto the bed, Ghost shifted until settled down on the bed on his back, totally open to you. In his relaxed position, you can feel how the invisible magnets between you shift from pushing forces to pulling ones. Body heat radiating off of him and his steady breaths almost acted like a sleeping pill for you as you laid down next to him, careful not to edge into his personal space.

“How would you like to lay?” His eyes wander over your face softly as you question him; head leaning to the side to get a full look at you resting next to him with your messy hair and t-shirt with little holes dotting alone the stretched-out collar. Ghost couldn’t help but realize how pretty you looked right now with your little smile and glowing skin illuminated in the yellow light. It doesn’t take a lot of thought before he gives a very quick and confident answer.

“Facing you.” His dark eyes study you for a response.

One he fears will be hesitation or discomfort. Fuck, maybe even fear. You’d seen him do things even hell would shudder at, yet you always came to him bearing a trusting and happy disposition. Being covered in blood, sand, sweat or mud never deterred you from walking right up to him like some lost little puppy hoping someone would find it cute enough to take home. Genuinely it bothered him. Why do you overlook the danger he presented. How you could be so fucking pleasant and calm in almost every situation you were thrown into. Something he’d been angrily dismissing as nothing more than a passing trend until you really got to know him as well as others had. Yet nothing changed. In fact, you appeared almost excited at the prospect and wiggled yourself into what he assumed was a more comfortable position on your side with one arm propped up under your head.

Ghost shifts himself onto his side with a small grunt, getting into an equally comfortable position that closes a bit more distance between you both. If you had mentioned it, his excuse would’ve fallen somewhere along the lines of you having short arms and that he was only accommodating your size. Nothing could pry the truth that he just liked being close to you out of his mouth. Days in the desert hadn’t nearly touched you. Sure you were a little rough around the edges without time to redo your hair or do any of the other small things… But damn you still looked pretty. With so little space between you, he could smell how sweet you were too. Not that fake shit women always put too much of on. You smelled right. Like a woman ought to. Natural, and… maybe a little on the salty side. It meant you’d been busting your ass in the field, and that thought alone gave Ghost a bit of a shiver as he inhaled deeply.

Face-to-mask with just a little more than a couple inches between you, the closeness felt comforting, reassuring. Ghost at ease, getting to take his time admiring all of the small things he’d never thought to appreciate, while you revel in such a strange yet lucky opportunity to watch him practically melt into the bed all because of your touches and soft words. Perhaps it’s because of all his walls coming crashing down that you’re able to begin trailing your fingertips over his arm. You worked from his wrist to his bicep then over and down onto his ribs, feeling the texture of burns and scars and the small raised edges of tattoos sunk into his skin.

Ghost lets out a low, soft, moan as your hands glide over his stomach. There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks directly at you, blinking innocently like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He’s so eager yet nervous for any sort of attention, and while you have no intention of stopping, you’re careful to not move too quickly. His breath increasing under your hand is a good enough indication that he was feeling something, and strongly, at that.

“More,” he breathes out, nearly panting with his one hand fisting at the sheets under him.

He’s starting to shake inside. Tingling on every surface you touch and fighting back the desperate urge to just make an observed amount of noise with just how much he likes this. It’s been so long since anyone had touched him so intimately. The overstimulation was nearly enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. Yet he swallowed thickly, willing himself to act as normally as possible. For fuck’s sake you hadn’t done anything that should reduce him to such a pathetic excuse of a man on the edge of anticipation waiting to see where you’d touch him next. You made it even harder when you looked up at him with a smile and raised eyebrows.

“Can I try something?”

He can’t nod quick enough, watching those eyes of yours light up. He shivers as your attention moves upwards to the hem of his mask, toying with it a little before tracing long lines from the base of his throat all the way up to his jaw. Working to trace out the shapes and planes of his face under the thin material. It makes him quiver and tighten his fist around the sheets in his hand. Without thinking, he moves his other arm to wrap around your waist tightly and pulls you the rest of the way against him with a small growl of lost patience. Ghost wanted you close, but god you were just too sweet to do it on your own. And with your body heat scalding against his bare skin, he gives a pinched sigh, eyes fluttering closed with you still rubbing his face.

“This okay?” He whispers lowly, his arm still wrapped around you and his hand pressed flat against the deep sway of your lower back; thumb rubbing over your belt loop absentmindedly. Hearing your soft sigh pours over his mind like thick honey in tea.

“Of course, it is,” Your hand curls around the edge of his jaw reassuringly. “You can touch me back if you’d like to.” You offer, reaching behind him to trace a line up his spine. Ghost’s eyes open at your invitation, his gaze -heavy- but fixed on you. His body tenses ever so slightly as you ask. Then, he closes them again and a small hidden smile crosses his lips.

“Yeah…” He answers at a mere whisper.

He moves his hand from its resting place and moves it to the swell of your hip, running it over your waist, fingers lazily catching the edge of your shirt and rolling it up enough that his fingertips brush against your bare skin in a soft gesture. You sense his nervousness in the slight shake of his hands, unsure of where to go, but fighting with the desire to touch everything at least once. Like he’s terrified he won’t get another chance but doesn’t want to scare you away from him either. His arm moves upwards, his hand coming to the side of your face; fingers smoothing back a couple of stray hairs and running across your head. Mentally you stutter for a moment, your arm draped over his side and your hand on his back stilling. Enraptured with Ghost’s rough hand touching you carefully. Treating you no differently than a bomb ready to go off at the slightest wrong move. So gently his thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hearing a tender sigh from under his mask.

“That feels good,” You whisper, lips brushing against the edge of his palm.

An answer doesn’t come, but you can see him nod his head. You can almost picture his smile as his fingers continue to run through your hair, twisting the strands around his fingers and pulling slightly before repeating the motion over again. Lacing his hand closer and closer to you with every soft touch. Ghost can’t help himself from tracing down the curve of your back again. Absorbing the comfort of your breath fanning over his chest and his hands getting to truly feel every inch of you he never even thought about touching, let alone actually laying next to you this close and feeling your smooth skin under his calloused palms. Experience in this kind of thing was as foreign to Ghost as the idea of working a nine-to-five at some office building typing on a computer or attending one o’clock meetings for a budget report. While that sounded mind-numbing enough to blast his own brains out…. he still felt like he’d have a better grip on living a life like that more so than he did lying next to you…

So fucking pretty always smiling like that.

He feels you lean even closer, resting your head against his bare chest and sinking deeper into the bed. Allowing him total freedom to do what he wished. If you could purr, he imagined you’d sound no different than a little kitten tucked inside someone’s shirt, kneading its paws into your skin. Ghost did smile widely this time, moving just enough to unbind his other arm out from under himself and curl it around your head to toy with the extremely soft strands right at the nape of your neck while the other rubbed at the dimples he felt in the small of your back.

You moan softly when his strong fingers squeeze at the back of your neck, rubbing in circles just at the back of your head to mimic the same technique you used on him earlier. Ghost was a quick study, but having large enough hands to practically scruff you with only one made it easier. Muffled in his chest, it didn’t come out nearly as deep and unrestrained as you’d actually been, yet you didn’t miss the slight shake of Ghost’s chest as he chuckled darkly. Proud that he’d elicited such a response, and already moving his hands more confidently to try and find somewhere else he could touch to make you repeat the noise.

“Does that feel good?” His voice pours over your ears like the bourbon he drinks, flooding your mind with a hazy and warm feeling.

Nodding your head to answer, his thumb runs lightly over your jaw again, this time squeezing affectionately. The Lieutenant on the other hand is relying far too much on his mask to keep his mounting excitement under control. Biting back an instinct to be rougher and see what other sounds you could make for him. Wrestling against the want to fully remove your shirt to see if you felt this soft everywhere. Suddenly hungry and hardly masking it. When you feel him suck in a harsh breath, you look up to see his eyes resting firmly on yours. A silent question lingers in the inch or two gap between your faces. His chest rises and falls quickly, anticipatory.

Swallowing the fucking childish nervousness clawing at his throat he finally speaks. “Should I?”

“I’d like if you did.” You whisper back, looking between his eyes and the painted teeth of his mask where you’ve pictured his lips being. Hoping. Praying. Fucking begging whatever beings could be in the sky above that you’d understood what he was asking for. That he’d give you so much more than you ever expected or dreamed of.

The Lieutenant’s eyes lock onto your mouth, and you can actually hear the thick swallow and deep breath he takes. A moment of anticipation that he couldn’t help but close his eyes for, bringing his masked face closer and closer. No more than a breath away, he can smell your hair and it makes him freeze. Quickly overwhelmed and unsure of how to move forward. So in the depth of his own mind, the presence of his mask still covering his whole lower face escapes his attention. You’re calm enough to help him, reaching between you and lifting the hem of his mask just enough to uncover his lips; Carefully resting the mask on the wide bridge of his nose.

You see deep scars -old and new- all over his lower face. Two of them cut over his lips in wide slashes that differed in color from the rest of his beautiful skin. It made your heart squeeze with sadness. Seeing the first real proof of just why Ghost was so closed off and afraid of letting anyone in. The first-hand experience left him always marching on a fine line between professional collaboration and a real, deep emotional connection to those he protected and those who wanted more than anything to protect him too.

Care about him.

It’s the one thought that brought you to press your lips to Ghost’s. Firm and sure of yourself but still sweet as sugar against his mouth. It takes him far longer than he thought to respond in any meaningful way. The sensation is so different, saccharine and syrupy. His. breath increases in pace, and you can feel his tongue teasing at your bottom lip in curiosity. It’s anxious yet bold. Even his hands are still shaking, they’re already wandering under the hem of your shirt much further than before. Grazing the bottom edge of your bra just like his tongue messily begged for more.

When you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, Ghost feels his inhibitions falling away. Opening his mouth with a low groan and pushing himself deeper, licking against your tongue greedily and tightening his grasp around you to begin rumbling for the hooks on your bra.

He’s nearly panting when he pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours with the hooks of your bra undone without even remembering when he’d done it. The sensation is sending heatwaves through your stomach, flooding your body with heat that rests on your cheeks.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbles, pulling at your shirt slowly and guiding it up over your head with care not to let it catch on anything.

Your heart thumps furiously as he kisses you, his tongue grazing against your own, softly and sweetly. His teeth tug on your lower lip, and his hands explore your back, feeling the smoothness of your skin. The warmth of his lips feels wonderful, his tongue exploring you as his movements become more frantic.

You feel his hands leave your back and move to your breasts, running lightly against the plush flesh before squeezing softly. Teasing his thumbs over your hardened nipples, giving you a darkened look when a small whimper slips from you. Ghost's eyes flick down, catching the image of your topless body before him and the almost pinched look of pleasure suddenly shocking your body. He smiles at you, his lips parting slightly as he does so feeling a new sense of accomplishment than ever before.

Hurting people felt natural to him after so many years alone and fighting to survive in every moment that came to pass. Rhythm and attention to the enemy's detailed reactions made him a lethal weapon against anyone his talents were directed at. With you in his hands though, the act of fighting was similar yet so very polar opposite. He watched and listened to every pretty little sound you made, but instead of that unending desire for retribution, he was being satiated with the knowledge that he could make you melt with nothing more than his mouth and hands.

Fuck, that thought almost ended Ghost. He couldn’t imagine just how many sounds he could rip out of you if he could use his hands or mouth somewhere else. God, if he ever had the chance to give you his cock, there’d really be no way of going back. He looks you in the eyes for a moment, then back to your lips, before kissing you again, his tongue exploring you as his hands run up and down your body.

He's so fucking eager now, and it shows, his excitement building in every movement of his hips beginning to roll up against yours. He's making you feel so hot and desperately needy for anything that could be given to you, and that's all he wants. Make you feel everything possible… all under his hands. His body, his touch. Only him. It couldn’t be anyone else now that he’d been given a taste of you.

The stone-cold Lieutenant Ghost is ready to give you everything all in the pursuit of making you feel absolutely overwhelmed with pleasure.

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