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lubdubology · 2 days ago

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Take My Love and Wear It

SYNOPSIS: Taking care of Charles has its own special challenges, but you didn’t expect the hardest one to be the man who hired you. Distant, gruff and rough around the edges, Logan still manages to worm his way under your skin. But you’ve worked your way under his, too.

PAIRING: Old Man Logan x fem!reader

WC: 10.8k

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; swearing; non-explicit mentions of wounds, blood and use of stitches; extreme physical pain; Charles is a lovable, meddling little shit; fluff sprinkled in for good measure; Logan in a tub (if I had a nickel for every time I bathed him, I’d have two nickels—which isn’t a lot, but its weird it happened twice, right); touch-starved Logan; handjobs; shower sex; fingering; dirty talk; oral (f receiving); sex with feelings; unprotected p in v; creampie

A/N: There’s something special about Old Man Logan, isn’t there? Old and grumpy and desperately in need of some love and affection. I know the Charles caregiver story has been done before, but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. And then Charles starting talking in my head and well...it blossomed into this. As always, thank you to @joelsgoldrush for allowing me to send her snippets of this as I went along and offering her love, support and suggestions. I hope you enjoy this and any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

You stare down at the remnants of yesterday’s cold and congealed dinner and sigh. Scraping the food into the trash, you resist the urge to pack everything you have and leave.

One month.

One month of helping Charles—making his meals, washing his clothes, giving him his meds, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself (or others), assisting with daily tasks—and Logan still regards you as a nuisance, like a gnat needing to be swatted away.

At best, he ignores you, moving around the house as if you don’t exist.

And at worst, he treats you with barely concealed contempt, his scowl deepening the lines of his face whenever he’s around you. As if you’re invading his space uninvited even though he’s the one that sought out help.

You grip the edge of the sink, staring down into the porcelain basin as if it holds some hidden answers. Every day you’ve tried to break through walls Logan’s built around himself, held onto Charles’ promise that eventually he’ll soften, just give him time, but he only seems to have grown more hostile. And you’ve done nothing to incur his ire besides watching him come home every day battered and bruised, his very bones weary with exhaustion, and offering your assistance.

Part of you is angry—angry that you care so much when your main focus is supposed to be Charles. Angry that despite all his efforts to come across unapproachable and cold, Logan’s worked himself under your skin and takes a little piece of you with him whenever he leaves.

Angry that somehow he’s stolen a piece of your heart.

You hear shuffling behind you and turn to find Logan entering the kitchen, fingers fastening the last buttons on his dress shirt. “What?” he asks gruffly and for a moment you wonder if he can read your thoughts.

You straighten and meet his gaze head on, swallowing down your nervousness. “How much longer are we going to keep doing this, Logan?”

“Doing what?”

“This,” you say, gesturing between you. “You walking around here like I’m some stain upon your life, acting like I’m a problem when all I’ve ever done is try and help.” Your voice is steadier than you feel. “You asked for me to be here, Logan. It’s not like I barged in here without permission.”

Logan holds your gaze, his jaw tight, and for a moment you think he’s going to grab his keys and leave, head off into the night and drive until sunrise. His eyes soften for just a moment, something like regret crossing his features.

“I know why you’re here. And I do…appreciate it,” he says, his words coming out low and rough. As if the words taste foreign in his mouth.

“Wouldn’t kill you to show it,” you challenge.

You’re waiting for him to lash out and instead he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not good at this.”

“I’m not asking you to bow at my feet,” you say, hoping to ease some of the tension in the air. “Although, I wouldn’t be mad about it.” You think you see the briefest hint of a smile flicker across his face. “I just want us to be able to live in the same space. I’m here to help, Logan. Let me.”

“You have no idea how hard this life is.”

A rueful smile tugs at your lips. “I understand more than you think I do.”

Logan’s gaze sharpens, inquisitive as he searches your face, as if he’s trying to decipher the meaning behind your words. He rubs a hand across his face, scratching lightly as his beard. “I’ve gotta couple jobs tonight. Maybe more,” he finally says, changing the conversation. “Should be back before sunrise.”

You nod, his switch in topic not lost on you, but you don’t push him. “Alright,” you say softly. “Just—just take it easy, okay?”

He glances down at you, relief softening his gaze and you know a part of him is grateful you didn’t push further.

Grabbing his keys, Logan heads towards the door but pauses just before he’s about to leave. He turns to look back over his shoulder. “Thanks,” he murmurs, the word awkward on his lips.

You give him a small nod of encouragement as he slips out the door. He may not be ready to full open up, but you feel as if he extended a tiny olive branch tonight, cracked open the door just enough to let you peek in.

+++

Over the following weeks, Logan’s a little less avoidant. He doesn’t go out of his way to make conversation—you didn’t expect him to—but he at least as acknowledges your presence. Small nods and murmured goodbyes when he leaves and sleepy hellos when he returns. It’s not much, but you’ll take it.

You’re cleaning the last of the dishes from dinner, Charles safely settled in front of the TV watching an old movie when Logan comes home. He’s earlier than you anticipated, but exhaustion lines his face nonetheless. You expect him to slip away quietly, but he pauses instead, lingering in the doorway.

“Smells good,” he says softly, nodding towards the pan of half eaten lasagna still sitting on the counter.

Surprised, you turn around to face him. You brush the hair from your face and say, “Sit. I’ll make you up some.”

Logan hesitates and for a moment you think he’s about to decline, but then he nods, his shoulders dropping slightly as he sits down at the table. You fix him up a plate, setting it down in front of him with a bottle of beer as you slide into the chair across from him.

He tucks quietly into the food, his fork scraping against his plate as he eats, pausing only to wash it down with a few swigs of beer. You watch him, a strange satisfaction tugging at you at the sight of him actually sitting down, enjoying a meal with you, even if it is in silence.

“Long day?” you ask quietly, gesturing towards his bruised knuckles.

He flexes the fingers on his free hand before tucking them under the table. “Nothin’ I can’t handle,” he mutters, taking another bite of lasagna. “They’ll be gone in a day or two.”

You know not that long ago an injury like that wouldn’t have even marred his skin. Now, the simplest of wounds can take days to heal and it’s not the appearance of his skin that bothers you, but the newfound ache he experiences, the heaviness of constant pain.

You want to help him, ease his discomfort, like you know you could. But you know he’s not ready for that. Not yet.

“You’re good with Charles,” Logan says then, his gaze steady on his plate. “He seems calmer around you.”

Logan’s admission is so unexpected, you find yourself staring at him in disbelief. At your silence, his eyes flicker up to yours and you see more than simple acknowledgement in his expression. It’s subtle, but it’s there, a current of something more, something you’re not quite sure how to address.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice softer than you intended. “Charles—he means a lot to me.” You pause briefly, but something compels you to continue. “You both do.”

His gaze is focused on you and you don’t miss the flicker of surprise that breaks through his usual stoic expression. Clearing his throat, he looks down, pushing around the last bit of lasagna on his plate and then after a moment, he sets his fork down and leans back in his chair. “You mean a lot to him, too,” Logan finally says and you wonder if he’s talking about more than just Charles.

From the living room you hear Charles call for you, his voice soft but insistent. The moment between you still crackles as you stand from the table and as you begin to walk away, Logan reaches for your hand. His fingers are warm and rough against your skin and you’re barely able to suppress your shiver.

“Thank you,” Logan says, his voice surprisingly soft.

His grip against your skin is gentle, a stark contrast to all his roughness and you can feel the weight of his unspoken words curling around you. Charles calls again, his voice breaking through the moment, but Logan’s hand lingers just a beat longer before he lets go, fingers trailing along your skin.

+++

“He likes you, you know.”

You glance up from shaving Charles’ face and find him staring at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. You give a soft hum. “Did he tell you that or did you read his mind?”

Charles scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. “What’s the difference, dear?”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you rinse the razor. “With Logan I’m pretty sure there’s a big difference.”

“Bah, if Logan wanted to keep me out of his head, he would. Stubborn man.” He tsks softly to himself and shakes his head. “But, no my dear, he can be quite loud if you know how to listen.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Loud, huh? And what exactly is that brain of his telling you?”

Charles gives you a knowing smile. “Oh, just little things,” he says casually with a wave of his hand, but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s holding back. “He notices you—what you do for me, this place, for him. He may not realize it himself, but his thoughts linger on you more often than he’d like.”

A flicker of hope sparks in your chest and despite yourself, you feel a blush creeping into your cheeks. “Logan doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type.”

“Logan has spent so much of his life running,” Charles continues, his tone and expression growing more thoughtful. “The loss he’s experienced has led him to believe it’s better to be alone than form meaningful connections with people. But you’ve somehow become something of a home for him. And he doesn’t quite know what to make of that.”

Your heart skips a beat as you take in his words. The idea of being a home for Logan, a comfort, feels surreal, and yet...there’s a part of you that dares to hope what Charles is saying is true. That this isn’t some fictional truth his brain has concocted, a product of his disease riddled mind.

“Home.” You repeat the word softly to yourself, testing the word on your own tongue as if it might shatter into pieces.

Charles nods, his hand reaching for yours, his gaze warm and knowing. “Yes, home. He feels it, deep down, in a way that’s unfamiliar and frightening for him.”

You glance down at your hand in Charles’ grasp, his touch grounding you as his words settle over you.

“Logan’s spent so long hiding from himself,” Charles continues. “I think he’s convinced himself he doesn’t deserve that kind of peace.”

“And you think I can give him that peace?” you ask quietly, your eyes flicking back up to Charles’ face.

He smiles knowingly and gives your hand a squeeze. “You already have, dear.”

+++

“Want some help?”

You turn to find Logan standing in the entrance of the kitchen, hands tucked into his pockets.

It’s a rare night—one where Logan’s chosen to stay home, taking a night off from the almost endless driving he does. He’s dressed down, well worn jeans and a button-up flannel, and for once you actually think he looks comfortable.

You smile, surprised, but happy to see him there. “Sure, the company would be nice,” you reply as he comes to stand next to you. “Want to wash and dice the potatoes?”

Logan nods and rolls up his sleeves before reaching for the bowl of potatoes you had set aside earlier. You watch him for a moment as he settles into the task with a quiet focus.

“Smells good,” he comments, gesturing towards the oven. “What’re we having?”

“Charles has been asking for beef tenderloin for weeks now, so I’m finally indulging him.” You finish trimming the last of the green beans and toss them into the bowl beside you. “You know, if you have any favorite meals you’d like me to make, you can tell me.”

Logan pauses and glances at you as he shuts off the tap. He clears his throat and says, “You already are.”

You blink in surprise as Logan’s words sink in and then the realization dawns on you. A soft smile spreads across your face as you piece together the extent of Charles’ meddling. You can’t find it in you to be annoyed and only feel a mix of amusement and fondness towards the old man as you chuckle softly to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks, raising his eyebrow as he catches your expression.

“Oh, nothing,” you say, waving him off with a smile.

Logan doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t pry as he picks up the knife and begins to deftly dice the potatoes. You watch him for a moment, captivated by the simple domesticity of the task. It’s in direct contrast to the man you’ve seen numerous times before, brooding and gruff, brimming with an almost untamed violence.

It suits him, you think, this quieter version of himself.

You both finish the prep with relative ease. He helps you set the table as the rest of the food cooks, plates clinking softly as he sets them down. You busy yourself with finishing the green beans in a garlic butter as you wait for for the tenderloin to rest enough to carve into.

“Ah, my dear, this smells wonderful,” Charles announces as he rolls into the kitchen, a warm smile on his face. “And you managed to pull Logan out of his room. What a treat.”

Logan snorts in response, giving Charles a pointed glare.

“I dare say it’s because the company has improved much as of late,” Charles says, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he glances between the both of you. “We all know he’s not out here for my benefit.”

You laugh as you bring the dishes to the table, noting the faintest of blushes creeping along Logan’s cheeks. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Charles.”

“As you should, dear. Your personality is quite sparkling.” He looks over towards Logan. “Isn’t it, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes land on you as he answers, “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Dinner begins quietly, the three of you settling into easy conversation as the first few bites are consumed. Both Charles and Logan hum in delight and a warmth blooms within you watching them both. This—this is the simplicity you’ve been craving with Logan.

As the meal continues, Charles launches into his usual repertoire of stories, those of the school and his students, his words brimming with nostalgia and pride as he talks. Logan sits back in his chair, arms crossed as he listens to him speak, shaking his head fondly at some of the memories.

“You know,” Charles begins, setting his fork down with an air of mischief, “I don’t think I ever told you how I met Logan, have I?”

Logan’s head snaps up. “Don’t, Chuck.”

But Charles is already smiling at you, ignoring Logan’s warning. “It’s a good story, dear. See, Logan had quite the career as an underground cage fighter.”

You lift your brows in surprise and you glance over at Logan, who’s thoroughly unamused by Charles’ choice of topic. “Cage fighting, huh?” you ask, unable to suppress your curiosity.

Logan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stabbing at his potatoes with a little more force than necessary. “It wasn’t a career,” he mutters. “Just a distraction. Way to get by.”

“Mmm, yes, perhaps,” Charles chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Regardless of the reason, it lead you to this exact moment. Didn’t it, Logan?”

Logan narrows his eyes at Charles, though the glare is only half-hearted. “You make it sound like all it all had some grand purpose.”

“Did it not?” Charles says gently, his tone shifting into something more serious. “Kept you alive, for one. But more than that, it brought you to us. To me.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes darting towards you. “To her.”

The words hang in the air and you glance over at Logan, whose expression softens just slightly. Without thinking, you reach across the table and give his forearm a gentle squeeze. His eyes meet yours, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

Charles watches the exchange with quiet satisfaction before clearing his throat. “Well, I believe my work here is done,” he announces, wheeling himself back from he table. “Logan, fancy a game of chess? I haven’t made a player out of her yet.”

You laugh to yourself as Logan follows Charles into the living room. After clearing the kitchen from dinner and loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, you join them both in the living room. Tucking yourself into the couch, you read while the two of them play, the clinking of wooden chess pieces and the occasional dry quip from Charles filling the room.

From your spot on the couch, you glance up from your book every now and then to watch them. Logan’s brow furrows in concentration, while Charles’ face is more relaxed as they play. You smile to yourself, wondering how often they played like this in the past, when times were simpler.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep or how long you’ve been out, but you’re jostled awake as two large, warm arms wrap around you, holding you close as you’re lifted off the couch. Logan’s familiar scent—cigar smoke and pine—fill your nose and you blink up to find him walking you down the hall towards your room.

“Logan?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. “D’you really cage fight?”

Logan chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I really did.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No.”

You blink slowly, your sleep-laden mind struggling to process his answer. “Not even a little?” Your voice is barely audible as you nestle closer into the warmth of his chest.

“Not in the way you think,” he answers, nudging open the door to your room with his foot.

You’re too drowsy to ask what he means and instead you hum softly, a noncommittal sound that Logan feels more than hears. Lowering you onto the bed, he moves with a gentleness you’ve never felt from him before. He brushes a strand of hair from your face and pulls the blanket over you before he turns to leave.

Your limbs are heavy, eyes barely open, but you call out softly—“Logan?”

He looks back towards you. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad Charles found you,” you murmur, closing your eyes.

Logan doesn’t answer, but you swear you feel the lightest of kisses against the top of your head before he leaves.

+++

It’s deep into the night when you hear the front door finally open. Your heart flutters against your ribs as you swing out of bed, unsure of what condition you’ll find him in. He was expected back two days ago, those extra hours away feeling like an unfathomable eternity.

You find him sitting at the kitchen table, dress shirt hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his clothes rumpled and bloodied. A large gash oozes from his shoulder and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips.

Logan looks up at you, eyes narrowed and lined with exhaustion. “Don’t look at me like that,” he grunts, tugging off the rest of his shirt.

“How else am I supposed to look at you?” you ask, taking a tentative step forward. “No phone call or text letting me know you’re not coming home and then you waltz in after midnight soaked in blood and covered in wounds.” Unshed tears burn in your eyes but you will yourself not to cry.

“Didn’t ask you to care about me,” he bites back, but his tone is more weary than argumentative.

“Oh, fuck you, Logan,” you snip, but your tone lacks venom.

He ignores you, pushing up from the chair with a heavy groan and limps over towards the cabinets. He shuffles through one of them, pulling out the makeshift sewing kit before sitting back down. You watch as he attempts to thread the needle, growing increasingly frustrated when he keeps missing.

Shoving down your own frustration, you pull up a chair next to him and reach for the needle and thread. He pulls his hands away from you, turning in the chair to keep you away. You chase after his movements, finally grabbing his wrists and removing the supplies from his grasp.

“I don’t need your help,” he growls.

You sigh, tired of this same argument, this same endless loop every time he comes home injured. “Goddamit, Logan, just let me help you.”

He drags his gaze up to yours, eyes tracing the lines of your face. His chest still heaves with heavy breaths, but you can see the anger bleed from him. He nods once, turning just enough so that you have access to his wound. Threading the needle, you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, ignoring the flinch he gives at your touch.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you whisper.

Logan huffs. “It’s a needle, darlin’. It’s not gonna feel nice.”

You try to ignore the flip your heart does at his use of the word darling. Despite his earlier gruffness and proclivity to push you away, Logan has softened to you over the last couple of months. Since that first dinner you shared, he’s joined you and Charles more often. Or if he comes home late, sought out the leftovers you’ve kept for him. He’s engaged in conversation, offering small pieces of himself, pieces that you’ve cradled close and nurtured.

But there’s a tension between you, thick and heavy in the air, and you wonder if he feels it too. Feels that same undeniable pull you’ve always felt in his presence. You’d like to think so, otherwise you were doomed to love him silently, your feelings for him bound in the quiet of your mind.

“Just trust me,” you say.

Slowly, you release your power, warmth spreading from your fingertips, easing his pain and discomfort as you begin to stitch him up. You try to ignore the heavy press of his gaze on your face and you can almost hear his unspoken thoughts, his words still stuck on his tongue.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his shoulder relaxing as you continue to work.

You glance up at him then, finding his expression softer than you’ve seen it. “A mutant is a dangerous thing to be, Logan,” you answer, your voice soft. “Few people know what I can do. Those I trust.”

For a long moment, Logan just looks at you, his eyes unreadable. Then, a rough, tired sigh falls from his lips. “You coulda told me.”

You take a steadying breath, his words lingering in the space between you. “Maybe,” you say, your fingers brushing against his skin as you continue to stitch. “But you don’t make it easy to talk to you.”

Logan lets out a low huff. “No. I guess I don’t, do I?”

You finish the last stitch, securing the knot. Your fingers linger a touch long than necessary, the warmth of his skin a comfort you’re loathe to lose just yet. Slowly, you lift your gaze to his and you feel your heart beat solidly against your ribs as he looks back at you like he’s seeing something there he hadn’t allowed himself to before.

Logan’s voice is low when he finally speaks. “Why you keep stickin’ around? Watchin’ me come home time after time covered in blood?”

“Because you deserve it.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. “Even if you don’t see that.”

He doesn’t respond, not right away, as he continues to watch you, his eyes tracing the lines of your face. Then he reaches up for you, fingers curling around your wrist, his skin warm and rough against yours. He holds you there as if grounding himself in your presence, his thumb drawing random patterns against your skin. The gesture is simple, but vulnerable and open in a way he rarely shows.

“I’m no good for you,” he murmurs, glancing down at where he’s touching you. “For anybody.”

“How ‘bout you let me be the judge of that?” you answer, your voice steady. “You’re more than you think you are.”

Logan clenches his jaw, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features, and you know deep below the surface he’s waging a war against himself, one he’s been fighting for far too long. His thumb stills on your wrist, his grip loosening slightly, but not letting go.

Placing your hand over his, you give him a soft smile. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

+++

You’re surprised that he doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to brush you off or push you away as you gently nudge him towards the bathroom. He still gives you a dubious glance as he looks down at the tub, but you just ignore it, moving past him to run the tap.

You give him privacy to undress and get settled before you reenter the bathroom. The sight of him, as large as he his with his knees pulled up to his chest, makes you laugh, garnishing a terse look from him.

“You find this amusing?”

“Big man in a little tub? Yeah, I do,” you reply with a smile. “Just relax, Logan. This’ll be our secret.”

He huffs, but does seem to visibly relax, resting his arms over his knees. You kneel down in front of him, resting one hand gently against his forearm as your other reaches for the washcloth. You can feel the tension release from his muscles as your power floods through him and he breathes out a soft, “Oh,” as all the pain and discomfort is eased from his body.

You wonder how long it’s truly been since he’s felt like this, unburdened by the pain and suffering of his own body. Your heart aches for him as you slowly begin to wash him, rubbing soft circles over the scarred flesh of his back, rinsing away the blood dried to his skin.

Even battered and marred as he is, you still find him beautiful—you always have. When you first started working with him all those months ago, you felt that pang of attraction when you met him, you’d have been blind not to. Ruggedly handsome, so strong and sure of himself. But you know that wasn’t all that drew you to him. Deep down, below all the tough, seemingly impenetrable exterior, you saw the man he truly was. Someone born of scars and rough edges, yet gentle. Someone who would selflessly put himself before others, even at his own expense.

You let the cloth linger a moment longer against his skin before dipping it back into the water, watching as his blood rinses from the fabric. Squeezing the excess water out, you press it back against his collarbone, tracing the warm cloth along his neck and over his shoulders. Logan doesn’t move, his eyes half-closed, his expression relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before.

Something deep tugs at you as you realize how vulnerable he is right now, how trusting. He hides behind a gruff exterior, his true self guarded so carefully so that he doesn’t let people in, doesn’t open himself up to the hurt that trusting another person can bring. But maybe you’ve finally cracked through, broken down a little bit of that wall he surrounds himself with.

The warm water drips from his skin as you continue to wash him, letting your fingers trail gently along the newly cleaned lines of his arms. Logan shivers at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he seems to lean into it, his breathing deepening, muscles falling even more slack.

“Feel nice?” you ask in a murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, finally glancing up at you through his half-lidded gaze. “’S very nice,” he replies, his voice rough.

“Good. You deserve it,” you say, repeating your sentiment from earlier.

You feel a flicker of warmth as his eyes meet yours and he simply nods. It takes everything in you to not smile too widely, to keep the moment gentle, but you take his acceptance to heart.

Running the cloth down his ribs, you pause when you feel the misshapen knot of a bruise beneath your fingers and glancing down, you find a deep purple hue coloring his skin. Your eyes dart to his with worry, knowing that an injury like that will take him at least a week to heal, if not longer, in his weakened state. That with every breath he’ll feel the pain of his muscles pulling and the bruise spreading if you’re not touching him.

Dropping the washcloth in the water, you press your palm against his side and take in a deep breath to steady yourself. Then, a warmth spreads from your skin into his as you pull his injury from him, feeling his skin knit back together, feeling his abused muscles realign themselves under his skin. A dull, yet sharp ache, blooms along your ribs as you continue to pull his pain into yourself, erasing the injury from his body. With a final gasp, you draw back, your fingers now running along unmarred flesh knitted whole.

Logan tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze as the back of his knuckles brush against your cheek. His eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze, and for a moment, the room falls into a deep quiet.

That pull between you, the magnetic force that you’ve felt since the beginning, feels amplified now. You’re acutely aware of every inch of space between you—how small it is, how easy it would be to close it. How badly you want to close it. You swallow, feeling the tension coil in your belly as he continues to hold your gaze, unblinking, but more open and raw than he’s ever been before.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks.

Your breath catches in your throat at his question, voice rough and laced with something between wonder and disbelief. As if he can’t quite fathom what you’ve done for him—what you’ve given him so freely.

Logan’s eyes search yours, his fingers drifting from your cheek to trace along your jaw, lingering with a tenderness that belies the man he presents to the outside world. His gaze is steady and intimate, as if he’s trying to understand you in a way that goes beyond words. But you say nothing, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears to form a reply.

“You took it on yourself, my pain?”

You simply nod, distracted by the way Logan’s fingers continue to brush along the edge of your ear, tracing the lines of your face as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” you whisper, unable to resist the pull of his hand against your skin, the warmth of his touch that you feel with every fiber of your being. “Because it’s the one thing I can do to help you.”

A beat of silence passes, the air thick and heavy with unspoken words. He exhales, shaky and deep, letting his hand slide to the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his fingers press gently against your skin, anchoring you in place and you can feel him pull you closer, his gaze dropping to your lips, his breath mingling with yours in the small, intimate space between you.

“I shouldn’t want this, want you,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a rumble. “But, fuck, I do.”

His confession is raw, leaving him unguarded for the first time in a long time and before he can pull back, before he can throw those walls back up around himself, you close the gap, resting your forehead against his. You bring your hand up to touch his face, thumb brushing over his cheek as you breath him in, feeling the heat radiate between you.

Logan’s hand slides further along your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he finally, gently, presses his lips to yours. His kiss isn’t demanding or rushed or filled with passion, but a lingering connection, the promise of something more. His lips are softer than you imagined, his touch more careful than you expected, as if he’s afraid he’ll break you. Slowly, his thumb traces circles against your cheek, steadying and soothing, pulling you closer.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. His breath is warm against your skin. “I don’t wanna push you away anymore,” he murmurs.

“Good because I don’t want you to.”

Logan lets out a breath, a hint of a smile finally softening his features.

Reluctantly, you pull away and pick the washcloth up again, intent on finishing what you started. The water turns to rust as you wash him of blood and grime, making sure you reach each cut, each bruise, each scar on his body that makes up the map of who he is.

You turn off the tap and hand him a towel, averting your eyes as he stands, wrapping the towel low across his hips. Logan reaches for you, tugging on the collar of your shirt to pull you closer. You stumble a bit as he pulls you in, surprised by the insistence in his grip. Logan’s eyes meet yours, an intensity behind his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, hand slipping along your jaw, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip.

You’re drawn forward as Logan’s lips find yours again, but this time there’s an urgency behind the kiss, a desperation and need he’s no longer trying to hide. He holds your face gently in his hands as he deepens the kiss, his nose pressing against yours, his beard scraping against your skin and you find yourself melting against him.

This is what you’ve been craving since you met him. Despite it all—the rage simmering just below his surface, the sharpness of his exterior, the sometimes shocking callousness of his words—you always knew there was a tenderness underneath, a softness that even his tortured past couldn’t erase.

Logan’s hands drift from your face, trailing down your neck and tracing along the curve of your spine as he presses you closer until there’s no space between you. The dampness of his skin bleeds into your shirt and you gasp into his mouth when he shifts his hips just enough and you feel heat of his erection against your thigh.

He pulls away from your mouth long enough to husk against your lips, “I’m old, not dead.” His teeth nip lightly at your bottom lip. “I’ve gotta beautiful woman lettin’ me kiss her, what did you expect?”

Your fingers trail along the edge of the towel slung low across this hips and a thrill runs through you as you feel his abdominal muscles flutter beneath your touch. You peer up at him, noting the flush of his skin, the black of his eyes as you tug the fabric just enough to loosen it. “How long has it been since someone has touched you, Logan?” you ask, your breath warm in the space between you.

Logan’s hands urge your hips closer, seeking friction as he starts to slowly rut against your thigh. You hear him swallow as your fingers dip below the fabric, brushing along the damp hair at the base of his cock.

“F—fuck,” he groans, guttural and low, his head dropping down to your shoulder. “Since before you.”

The weight of Logan’s confession presses into you and in that moment you want to give him everything. Wrap him in all the love you can muster, show him something other than pain and suffering.

You move your hand from the towel, allowing the fabric to fall from his waist and pool forgotten on the floor. Logan’s breath catches as your fingers wrap around him fully, the heat and weight of his cock pressing against your palm.

A ragged groan escapes his throat. “Christ,” he mutters, voice thick and vibrating against your skin. “You don’t gotta—”

“I want to,” you interrupt, slowly and deliberately dragging your hand along his length, tracing the vein along the underside of his cock with your fingertips.

Logan’s hips jerk involuntarily, seeking friction, chasing your hand, and you oblige, tightening your grip just enough to elicit another groan from him.

“What do you like?” The question lands in the sliver of space between you, your strokes still light, teasing.

“Firmer, more ah—” He breaks off as you tighten your grip on the upstroke. “Fuck, yes, like that, sweetheart.”

A shiver runs down your spine as his hands find your waist, fingers clutching at you almost hard enough to bruise. His breaths are growing uneven, each exhale warm against your neck as he fights to maintain some semblance of control.

“You keep that up,” he rasps, lips grazing your ear, “and I’m not gonna last long.”

His admission sends a rush of pride through you and you tilt your head back to look at him, your thumb brushing over the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the wetness there. Logan’s eyes meet yours, dark and heavy-lidded, his expression raw and unguarded. You like him like this, such a large, imposing man boiled down to pure wanton need.

“I don’t mind,” you reply, keeping your movements steady, your strokes firm yet gentle. You focus on the subtle shifts in his breathing, the way his fingers grip you tighter each time you find the right rhythm. “Just wanna make you feel good, Logan.”

He leans forward, capturing your lips into a kiss that’s both rough and messy, teeth nipping at your lip as his tongue licks into your mouth. He groans are muffled against your mouth as his hips begin to thrust in time with your strokes, his movements growing more erratic as he chases after his release.

“Can’t believe—ah, fuck—can’t believe how good you’re makin’ me feel,” he growls against your lips.

You smile into his mouth, your free hand brushing along his hipbone as your strokes quicken. His whole body tenses, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexing, his abdominal muscles taut as he teeters on the edge.

“Let go, Logan,” you say. “I’ve got you.”

With a strangled groan, he comes, his release spilling over your hand, hot and thick. His body shudders against yours as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him close as he continues to thrust lazily into your grip, your own movements slowing as you guide him through the aftershocks.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, then Logan lifts his head, his hazel eyes soft as they meet yours. “You walked into my life and I knew—I knew—you would ruin me.”

You smile to yourself, unable to stop the thought that floats into your head—he’s ruined you as well.

+++

The text comes in at a little over one AM—hurt.

You jump out of bed, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you slip into one of his discarded flannels and head out into the night. Pacing the driveway, your heart jumps into your throat at every passing headlight, your thumbnail almost bitten down to the quick as you wait for him.

The minutes bleed into eternity until you finally see the limo turn down the long drive and it takes all your willpower to not run and meet him halfway. You’re bouncing on your heels as he finally comes to a stop, the driver’s side door opening with a faint groan of steel.

Your heart stutters in your chest as he emerges from the car, blood soaking through his shirt, dark and spreading, as he steps towards you on shaky legs. Logan’s face is pale in the moonlight, his breathing uneven and shallow and white-hot dread shoots up your spine as you see his arm hanging limp, two of his claws unsheathed and dripping blood.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” you gasp, rushing to his side.

Logan tries to wave you off, gritting his teeth as he grips the doorframe. “”M fine,” he grits, but the tremor in his voice betrays him.

You reach for him, hands already attempting to steady him as his knees buckle and he collapses to the ground beneath him. “Careful. Claws,” he rasps as his left hand seeks purchase against your shoulder.

“I don’t fucking care about your claws, Logan,” you snap, although you both know your anger isn’t at him. You glance up at him and for once you think you actually see fear in his eyes. “What happened?”

“Gas. Robbery.” Each word punches out of his chest, the effort to speak sending tremors down his limbs. “Got ‘em.” He nods down towards his limp arm, claws still unsheathed, but slowly, so slowly starting to retract.

He winces as you help him peel off his coat to get to the shirt underneath. Your fingers shake as they trace the holes the bullets made—one in his shoulder, dangerously close to his lungs and the other just below his ribs. Hooking your fingers through the fabric, you rip it from his chest—the wounds are deep and his skin is hot and slick with sweat.

Panic claws at you and unshed tears burn in your eyes. You’ve seen Logan hurt before, but this—this was different. His breathing is painfully shallow, his usual gruffness and resilience absent.

“Logan, you’re not healing,” you whisper, your voice shaking as your fingers stain with blood. Logan simply grunts, trying to wave you off, but lacking the strength. “I can’t…I can’t lose you. I can help.”

Logan’s eyes widen as he grabs for your wrist. “No. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care!” you shout. “I love you, dammit, and I’m not just going to sit here and watch you die!”

Before he can protest, you press your palms over his wounds, the familiar warmth of your power surging through you as it spreads from your palms into his torn flesh.

The pain hits you like a freight train.

It’s sharp and relentless, searing through your shoulder and into the softness of your belly like molten fire. You gasp, biting back a scream as your body jerks instinctively away from the intensity, every cell in your body demanding you withdraw from the torture.

But you don’t stop. You cling to him, tears streaming down your face as you channel your power into him, knitting his flesh back together. You can feel it, the way his muscles, bones and tissue rearrange themselves, months of healing taking place in mere moments. Every second feels like an eternity, but you refuse to let go.

You’re dimly aware of Logan yelling at you to stop, his own pain momentarily forgotten as he watches you endure his agony.

Black dots dance in your vision as the last of his wounds come together, the spent bullets clinking to the gravel and you finally collapse against him, trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The fire in your body begins to dull, fading to a cold, hollow ache as Logan wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Hey,” you mumble against him, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re okay now.”

“Me?” Logan’s voice is low, disbelieving as his hand cradles the back of your head as if you might shatter. “You’re the one—why the fuck would you do that? You could’ve—dammit, you—”

His words break off, his forehead dropping to yours as his breath shudders against your cheek. You can feel the tension radiating through him, warring with himself between his gratitude and anger, between his guilt and the love he’s too afraid to speak out loud.

“I told you why,” you answer, lifting your head to look up at him.

Logan’s jaw clenches, his words caught in his throat, but his eyes say everything is voice won’t. You don’t need him to say it, not yet, but you can feel it, pressing just below the surface.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

+++

There’s a reverence in which Logan washes you.

Steam swirls around you as he works the thickly lathered loofah over your shoulders, down across your collarbones and down along the soft planes of your stomach. The water rinses away the faint metallic tang of blood, leaving behind the fresh scent of soap. He continues with a silent determination, as if the act of washing you can erase all the pain you’ve taken from him.

You know better than to convince him you’re fine, that the pain is always temporary, that it only lasts for a few minutes, sometimes just a bit longer. That the pain is something you’d endure for him again and again if he’d let you.

His thumb brushes along the underside of your ribs, searching for a wound you know he won’t find. You reach for him, lacing your fingers together with his. He blinks up at you, hazel eyes holding far too much worry for such a stoic man.

“I’m not going to break, Logan,” you say softly.

A wordless noice escapes his throat as he removes himself from your grasp and continues to work, ditching the loofah in favor of his hands. His fingers are warm and calloused against your skin as they glide lower, down over the swell of your hips, over your thighs, down towards your knees.

His touch morphs from one of care and comfort to one more sensual, simmering with unspoken tension as his fingers rest in the hollow behind your knee. You glance down at him, water droplets catching in his hair, running off the slope of his nose.

Though you’ve seen him bare before, you can help but trace the lines of his body—the broadness of his shoulders, the well defined muscles of his chest, the sturdiness of his thighs, the scars that mar his skin. The sight of him stirs something deep within you and you feel your pulse thrum beneath your skin.

“Logan,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the sound of the water.

He looks up at you then, eyes locking with yours. A storm swirls within them, a mix of guilt, affection and an intensity that takes your breath away. Leaning in, he presses the barest of kisses to the inside of your knee before he rises to his full height, pressing you close.

“D’you mean what you said before?” he asks, voice low.

I love you, dammit!

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation.

Logan exhales sharply, the tension he’s been holding coiled in his muscles loosening as he loops his arms around your waist. “I’m not very good with words,” he admits, his breath fanning across your damp skin. “Can I show you?”

There’s no mistaking the meaning behind his words and you can only nod, your voice catching in your throat.

His lips find yours, mouth moving over yours slow and deliberate as if he’s savoring the taste of you. The first touch is a spark, the second a fire, and by the third, it’s an inferno that engulfs you both and leaves you breathless. Logan kisses you like you’re his anchor, his salvation, his touch desperate and full of everything he can’t yet put into words.

Your fingers slide into his hair, gripping the strands at the nape of his neck as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed in the space between you. His tongue brushes against yours, teasing and exploring and you respond in kind, your nails scraping along his scalp.

Logan’s control is fraying. You can feel it in the way his teeth nip at your bottom lip, the way his hands press along the curve of your spine, the way he can’t seem to find enough of your skin to touch, to caress. A low growl rumbles through his chest as you slip a hand between your slick bodies, finding his cock, thick and heavy against your belly.

You give one slow drag of your palm along his length before he’s gripping your thighs and forcing your legs around his waist. His mouth leaves yours, trailing down to the curve of your jaw as he presses you against the wall, the coolness of the tile a direct contrast to the heat of your skin and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips.

Despite his age, the metal bones inside him slowly poisoning him and causing him human aches and pains, he’s still able to hold you up solidly with one arm as the other trails along your hip bone and dips down to where you’re warm and wet.

“This all for me?” he asks in a murmur, sliding a finger along the seam of your cunt, just barely brushing against your clit.

Your breath hitches and you grip his shoulders, nails pressing lightly into his skin as you nod. Logan’s eyes darken at your reaction, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” you finally manage to whisper. “Always for you.”

“Good,” he growls, leaning in to nip at the skin just below your ear. The deep rumble of his voice vibrates through you, his touch deliberate and almost torturously slow as he slides his fingers through your folds, spreading your slickness with a focused and unrelenting precision.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your head tilting back against the wall as he finally presses his thumb to your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to have your thighs trembling around his waist.

“I got you,” he coos against your skin, his lips trailing from the pulse point in your neck to your collarbone. His teeth scrape along the curve of your shoulder, his free hand gripping your hip tighter to steady you as his fingers continue to tease and coax. “Lemme make you feel good.”

Every nerve ending is afire beneath him, every motion, every stroke of his fingers against your cunt leaving your mind reeling with pleasure. Your nails dig further into corded muscles of his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor yourself to. You pull back when you see the tiny, crescent shaped cuts marring his skin.

His eyes snap up to yours, sharp and molten. “No, do it,” he urges, fingers still moving. “Mark me with somethin’ pretty.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp.

“Say my name again,” he demands, his voice rough and commanding. There’s a quiet desperation in his tone, as if hearing it grounds him. Grounds him to this moment. To you.

You can’t help but obey, whispering his name like a prayer, and he rewards you by slipping one long finger inside you, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure along your spine. Logan watches your face intently as if memorizing the way you react to his touch. When he adds a second finger and slowly begins to thrust his hand, you cling further to him, the heat inside you building to an almost unbearable intensity.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. “You’re so beautiful like this. So wet and warm and tight around me.”

His words barely register in your mind, too focused on the way his fingers curl and thrust inside you, finding that soft spot that makes your eyes roll back. He’s relentless now, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

“Logan, I’m so close,” you whine, your hips beginning to roll against his hand, seeking just a bit more friction, forcing his fingers deeper inside of you.

The tension coiling low in your belly finally snaps, your orgasm washing over you in waves that make your whole body shudder as you cry out his name. Logan holds you through it, his hand continuing to thrust against you as he draws out every ounce of pleasure from you, his own breathing ragged against your skin.

When you finally come down, Logan presses a kiss to your temple as he helps you unwrap your legs from his waist and carefully sets you down, keeping you close.

You tilt your head to meet his gaze, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I didn’t think you’d be into shower sex, old man,” you tease with a smile.

His laugh is low. “I can make exceptions. I need a bed to fuck you properly, though.”

“Prove it,” you challenge.

+++

The heat and intensity between you doesn’t diminish as Logan helps you out of the shower and guides you down the hallway towards his bedroom. A shiver of anticipation crawls up your spine as you get closer, knowing that once you cross this line, there’s no going back, that he will have claimed you fully.

You scoot back onto the bed, watching as he approaches you with a fire in his gaze that doesn’t waver. He climbs onto the mattress, knee pressing down between yours as he cages you in from above, gently pinning you beneath him.

Leaning down, his lips brush against yours, teasing. “Still wanna challenge me, sweetheart?” His voice is a low gravelly growl that sends a prickling rush of arousal down your limbs.

“Always,” you reply breathlessly, arching into his touch as his hands slide down your thighs, parting them with ease.

His grin is sharp as he leans back to take you in fully and you acutely feel the weight of his gaze against your skin. He traces his calloused fingers over your damp skin, along the dips of your collarbones, under the swell of each breast, mapping the curve of your hips as if committing you to memory. Dipping his head, he leans down between your legs, his beard grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you can’t help but shudder at the sensation.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he says, almost to himself, his voice dripping with desire. He drags his lips higher, brushing along your damp cunt, his breath hot and tantalizing. “And all mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone has you clenching around nothing, heat pooling low in your belly and your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer. But he ignores your silent plea, almost deliberately testing your patience as he kisses you everywhere except where you want him most.

“Logan, please,” you gasp, the ache between your thighs almost painful.

“Patience,” he chides with a smirk, though his own resolve seems to be thinning. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer before he flattens his palms against your thighs, opening you fully to him. Then, his tongue is on you, lapping at you with flat, broad strokes in a rhythm that quickly has you teetering on the edge.

Logan’s focus is unrelenting, his low growls of approval vibrating through you as he works you over with an enthusiasm that proves to you this is about more than just pleasure—he’s claiming you, showing you just how much you mean to him. Making you his.

Your thighs tremble around him and his warm, rough hands hold you steady as he slips one, then two fingers deep inside of you. It’s embarrassing how quickly you come as he thrusts his fingers against that spot inside you, your second orgasm of the night crashing over you as his name falls from his lips in a breathless moan.

Before you can properly catch your breath, Logan is moving from between your thighs, making his way back up your body, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. His lips finally find yours in a kiss that’s messy and desperate and you can taste yourself on his tongue, sharp and bright, and the intimacy of it sends a thrill through you.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he groans against your lips, his voice wrecked as he grinds his hips against yours, his cock hard and insistent against your hip. “Could spend the rest of my life between between those thighs.”

“Why stop there?” you tease, your lips tugging into a smirk. “I thought you said you’d fuck me properly.”

Logan’s eyes darken, your challenge seeming to light something dark and primal in him. His grin is all teeth as he sits back on his heels, hands curling around your hips and pulling you down the bed like you weigh nothing until your hips are flush with his. “You gotta mouth on you, sweetheart. Should we see if you can still talk stuffed full of my cock?”

The weight of his cock brushes against your slick folds and you gasp at the sensation, your nerve endings exquisitely sensitive. Logan grips himself at the base, giving himself one languid stroke before running the thick head along your cunt, teasing you with shallow thrusts. Each slow, deliberate stroke of him sliding against you leaves you desperate and aching and you lift your hips in search of more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So needy. Bet you’ll take me so well, huh?”

“Yes,” you breathe, nails digging into the muscles of his forearms. “Please.”

He presses into you then, the stretch of his cock making your jaw drop as he takes his time, sinking in inch by inch, filling you completely. Logan’s gaze is locked on yours, heavy and possessive as he watches every flicker of pleasure cross your face.

“Fuck” he groans when he’s fully seated against your hips, his body trembling with the effort to stay still. “You feel…so fuckin’ tight. So damn perfect.”

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as he starts to move, pulling out torturously slow before thrusting back in harder, setting a rhythm that’s relentless and consuming. Each stroke of his hips has you crying out, your body arching into his as you meet him thrust for thrust.

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart,” he growls, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise as he continues to pound into you. “Like you were made for me.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing in with your whimpered moans and Logans own ragged groans. He leans down, bracing himself on his forearms, the wiry hair on his chest teasing your nipples as his lips find your neck, biting and sucking marks into your skin that feel like promises.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in deeper, your heels digging into his back as the coil inside you begins to tighten once more. He feels it too, the way you body clenches around him, and his pace falters slightly, his breaths coming faster.

“C’mon,” he rasps against the pulse point on your neck. “Wanna feel you come. Wanna make you fall apart.”

It doesn’t take much more—just a few more well-angled thrusts that hit that spot inside you and the tension finally snaps, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you trembling. Logan’s finesse is slipping, thrusts growing erratic as chases his own release.

“Come Logan,” you manage in a whisper. “Come for me.”

His hips stutter as he groans your name, spilling into you as his body tenses, lazily thrusting against you as he wrings out the last of his pleasure. He stays deep inside you, still for several moments before he shifts just enough to collapse against your side.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sounds in the room being your heavy breathes and the pounding of your heart. Logan rests his head against your chest, heavy and sweat slick between your breasts. You brush at the strands of hair against his forehead before running your finger along the old scar on his cheek.

He lifts his head to look up at you, his gaze soft yet still simmering with hunger. “I do, you know,” he murmurs. His fingers brush idly against your skin. “Love you.”

A smile spreads across your face, warming blooming in your chest.

“I know.”

+++

You wake before he does, rolling over to find him prone, face buried in the pillow he hugs close to his chest. Sunlight filters in through the half slatted blinds, catching on the silver in his hair and beard and you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks, how at peace he is beside you. He’s relaxed in sleep for the first time since you came here. You’ve heard his growls and yelps of terror that echo in the night, seen the claw marks that pierce his sheets.

Your mind filters back to last night and how he looked as he came apart inside you, how desperate and needy he was for your touch upon his skin. The memory of his gasps and groans send a rush of warmth over your skin, making you dimly aware of the ache between your legs. Logan, so guarded, so unyielding and seemingly unbreakable, trembled as he came, his voice rough and wrecked as he called out your name. You shiver thinking about it.

You want to hear it again. But not now.

Resisting the urge to reach out and brush the hair from his forehead, you leave him undisturbed and slide out of bed. Padding into the kitchen, you find Charles sitting in his chair at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out in front of him. He looks up at you with a warm smile as you start a pot of coffee, the machine humming to life.

“Ah, I see,” he comments, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You glance over at Charles, his eyes back on the paper in front of him, but his smile still paints his face, sly and knowing. Heat creeps up your neck as you busy yourself with the coffee. “Are you reading my mind?” you ask, trying to force nonchalance into your tone.

Charles chuckles softly and taps at his temple. “I don’t have to. You’re projecting. And quite loudly, at that.”

You bite your lip as you fill your mug, leaning against the counter as the coffee warms your hands. You attempt to clear your mind, trying to think of anything mundane—the weather, baseball, laundry. Charles just shakes his head. “Relax, my dear. What the two of you do together as consenting adults is none of my business.”

“Oh, God,” you groan, your cheeks aflame. “That’s what I’m projecting?”

“Not that explicitly, no. You think more in feelings, rather than words. But they’re quite powerful emotions and rather hard to ignore when they’re radiating as strongly as yours are this morning.”

You bury your face in your hand, peeking at Charles through your fingers, which only seems to amuse him further. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” you mutter.

“Perhaps,” Charles says with a laugh. “But you’re helping him. Healing him. And that, my dear, is worth everything.”

Before you can respond, you hear the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Logan rounds the corner, hair tousled from sleep, his body still bare except for the pair of low slung sweatpants clinging to his hips. His eyes find yours first, softening in a way they rarely do for anyone else as he scratches at the back of his head and mumbles, “Mornin’.”

“Morning,” you reply with a smile, thankful for the distraction. You pour a second cup of coffee and offer it up to him. “Coffee?”

Logan grunts in affirmation, moving towards you, but instead of reaching for the mug, he loops an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. He buries his face in your neck, beard scraping against your skin as he sighs. “Didn’t like wakin’ up with you not there,” he breathes into your hair, his voice so low you almost don’t hear him.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“S’okay,” he says softly, pressing the lightest of kisses just under your ear. “Next time, wake me.”

Your heart stutters against your ribs at his open display of affection, the softness and warmth in which he holds you, and the promise behind his words. From over his shoulder you see Charles give you a slight nod, a bright smile on his face before he turns his attention back to the newspaper in front of him.

You think back to what Charles told you all those months ago, about how you were a home for Logan. Those words echo in your mind as you feel Logan’s steady weight against you. He’s so different now, soft and unguarded and in that moment you know.

You’re home, too.

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navybrat817 · 2 days ago

Text

Deep in the Woods: Part 1

Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.

Series Masterlist | Part 2

Chapter Summary: You encounter your grumpy temporary neighbor while attempting to chop some firewood.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.3k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, cheating mentioned (reader's ex), grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, reader is too trusting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a bit rude at first, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: A new dark AU inspired by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 's ask. ❤️‍🔥 Thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for cheering me on! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The sun shining in the sky was deceiving as you hauled a large piece of wood to the tree trunk. It was chillier than expected, and the cold would only get worse once the sun went down. Your cabin had heat, but you'd be stuck if it went out and you didn’t manage to chop some firewood. Making a fire you could handle. Chopping wood?

That was another story.

“Okay,” you smiled, setting the log upright and adjusting your gloves before you grabbed the axe. You gripped the handle tight, raising it above your head. “I got this.”

The blade hit the log almost dead center. Unsurprisingly though, it barely pierced the wood. You hunched over, tugging at the axe, nearly losing your balance in the process. “I still got this,” you huffed, shaking out your arms and swinging again.

The next swing went deeper, but only by an inch. The swing after that, you nearly missed completely. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your body warming despite the chill in the air. After a moment, you dropped the axe and stared at the log with your hands on your hips. It was nowhere near split.

“I don’t got this,” you sighed.

“Who the hell are you?” a gruff voice asked from behind you.

Your heart leapt to your throat as you spun around, and it raced even faster when you spotted a figure just a few feet away. He was a large man, and one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. He would likely tower over you if he stepped closer. His dark hair hung messily past his shoulders, while his perfectly trimmed beard gave him a rugged edge. The flannel he wore strained against the biceps of his muscular arms, one of the shades of blue matching his thunderous eyes.

Was he glaring at you?

“Hi,” you smiled, trying to sound friendly as you gestured toward the unchopped log. “I was just trying, and failing, to chop some firewood. I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

He kicked a small twig away with his boot. “I didn't ask what you were doing. I asked, ‘Who the hell are you?’”

Your smile slipped. Maybe he was local and didn't like outsiders, though something about him seemed familiar. “Oh, yeah. Right,” you said, giving him your name and nodding to the cabin nearby. “Mr. Hunter rented the place out to me. I’m staying for a couple of weeks. Just got here this morning.” You hoped the place wasn't double booked.

He relaxed a fraction, but his glare didn't disappear completely as he took out his phone and dialed a number. You heard a ring as he put it on speaker. While he tapped a foot impatiently, you weren't sure what to say or do.

“Howdy, neighbor,” a raspy voice answered on the other end.

“Did you rent out your place?” he asked, keeping his eyes on you when your face got hot. You wanted to yell that you wouldn't lie about something like that, but that didn't seem like a good idea.

“Yeah. Pretty lady. Paid in full upfront. Clean background, too.” You looked at your feet. It was weird to listen in even though it was on speaker. And did he say “clean background”? What did that mean? “Why? Is she-”

The man hung up the phone. “Didn't think he rented his cabin out anymore,” he said more to himself than you.

An awkward silence filled the air. “Yeah, well, apparently he does. I booked it a couple of months ago and he left a code to get in and some instructions for the place,” you explained, trying to smile again as you looked around and breathed in the fresh air. “It’s a really nice place and the view up here is gorgeous, like something out of a photograph. Do you live nearby?”

He grunted and jutted his chin out. “My cabin is the next one over to the left.”

“That’s nice,” you smiled more, grabbing the axe again. “And it was very interesting meeting you, temporary neighbor, but I should try to finish this up.”

Before you could blink, the man was directly in front of you with one hand on the handle. He was even bigger up close. “If you’re thinking of taking another swing at that log, don't,” he barked at you, snatching the axe from your hands. You weren’t sure if it was his tone or him grabbing it from you that made you flinch. “This isn't a toy, it’s dangerous. And from the looks of that log you have no business trying to do that to begin with.”

Your cheeks burned again. It was bad enough that this guy didn't take your word for staying at the cabin, but the last thing you needed was for some stranger to lecture or humiliate you, and a grumpy one at that. “Yeah, well, if my cheating asshole of a boyfriend hadn't been balls deep in his colleague, we wouldn't be having this conversation. He'd be out here chopping firewood and I’d be inside cooking, which is something I'm actually good at, thank you very much,” you snapped.

Your tone surprised him enough to let you take the axe back. “I didn't…” he trailed off when you held up a hand.

“You don't know me and that’s fine, but I’m trying to be friendly and that's more than you can say,” you continued, his nostrils flaring. He didn't have to be nice to you, but he didn't need to be rude either. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I'm stuck here by myself, I’m trying my best to make it work, and I don't need some random stranger out here giving me a hard time for no reason.”

Your eyes burned as he stared at you, but you squared your shoulders and held your head high. You spent enough time crying over a prick who wasn’t worth it and you refused to shed another tear because you deserved better than an unfaithful asshole. And you sure as hell wouldn't cry in front of some hot grump with a chip on his shoulder.

The man’s pensive look dissipated more of your sudden anger and his tone softened considerably when he asked, “You’re really out here by yourself?”

You tensed up. It wasn't smart of you to broadcast that you were all by your lonesome. “Yeah, for now,” you said, your voice softer, too. Maybe you could convince a friend to stop by for a day or so. “I know I’m not good with an axe, but I tried. I just wanted some firewood in case the heat went out for any reason,” you said, your shoulders sagging. “So if you don't mind, can I please finish up?”

He nodded, taking the axe more gently this time. “Let me,” he offered, your eyes wide at his change in demeanor. “And step back. I don't want you to get hurt.”

Once you moved out of the way, he lifted the axe and split the log down the middle with expert precision. With his view on the task at hand, you swept an appreciative gaze over him. The guy was a bit of a grump, but he filled his jeans out well. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, mister,” you told him, getting a grunt in response. “My problems aren't your problems and I didn't mean to get so defensive about my lack of wood chopping skills.”

“You can call me Bucky,” he said, grabbing another log. “And nothing to be sorry for. I didn't exactly lay out the welcome mat for you.”

“It’s… Wait, Bucky.” Your eyes widened in realization. “Bucky Barnes?”

He froze before he brought the axe down again. “Heard of me?”

“Of course I have. You helped save the world,” you smiled. Years back, an alien warlord had wiped out half of the population. Not only did a group of heroes called the Avengers help reverse the wipeout, but they stopped the monster with the help of many others across the galaxy. Bucky was one of those people. No wonder he seemed so familiar. “You’re a hero.”

A tortured one at that. You remembered seeing a few articles about him. A former prisoner of war turned brainwashed assassin turned hero. He was pardoned for the crimes committed while was brainwashed, and rightfully so in your opinion, and he went on to use his skills and expertise to help others.

What was he doing out here in the woods?

“Not really a hero anymore,” he said, brushing his hair back with his forearm. “Now I’m just a lumberjack who values his privacy.”

“Oh.” That answered your question. “I guess valuing your privacy explains why you didn't roll out the welcome mat,” you teased, wringing your fingers together. You felt kind of bad again for snapping at him. Given his past that you were aware of, it made sense why he would've been suspicious of someone new popping up near his home.

He stopped to glance at you. “Guess it’s my turn to apologize,” he said.

You blinked, not wanting to lose yourself in his deep gaze. “No need. I figured you were just a local who didn't like new people around.” You smiled at the pile of wood he made. “I think you chopping firewood for me is the perfect apology. You saved me a lot of time and trouble.”

He hummed, putting the blade in the tree trunk once he finished. “You said you cook?” he asked, wiping his gloves on his jeans as he faced you.

“Yeah. I actually have a stew keeping warm right now,” you replied, shifting on your feet when he stared you down. “Are you hungry? I made plenty.”

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“Okay.” Your smile faltered when you walked toward the cabin with Bucky close behind. Was it a good idea to invite him in when you didn't exactly know him? The guy was a hero though. No reason to be suspicious.

The aroma of seasonings, beef, and vegetables greeted you as you opened the door and set your gloves on the entry table. “If you don’t mind taking your boots off, that was one of the instructions,” you told him, removing yours and hanging your coat on the hook.

While the cabin wasn’t large, it was in great condition. It was also extremely clean and tidy. The guy who owned it likely didn’t want dirt on his floors.

“Yeah, God’s kind of picky about that stuff,” Bucky said, putting his gloves on top of yours. You caught a glimpse of his metal hand, but you quickly looked away. It wasn’t polite to stare.

“Wait. The G in G.B. Hunter stands for God?” Your brows pinched as you walked toward the kitchen. “What the hell does the B stand for?” you muttered to yourself.

“That’s really what it stands for. He’s a bit of a strange guy, but a good neighbor when he’s here,” Bucky said, following close again. He was practically on top of you. “So, your boyfriend. He-”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you corrected him, inhaling deeply as you lifted the lid from the warm pot. The scent brought a smile to your face and pushed a bit of the bitterness away. “What about him?”

Bucky grabbed a couple of bowls from the cupboard. He knew where the spoons were, too, so he was at least somewhat familiar with the place. You weren’t sure how that made you feel. “How long were you two together?”

“Almost a year,” you replied. A waste of about twelve months and it wouldn't be fun to start over again.

He set the bowls on the counter before he grabbed a couple of drinks, sweeping a look over you. “Did you catch him cheating?” he asked curiously.

You froze, the image of your ex scrambling to cover himself and his colleague up as you walked in taking over your mind. You had to blink multiple times to make the image go away, but it didn’t stop your stomach from turning. “Yep,” you answered, your throat tight. Why did he want to know? “Tried to give me some lame excuse that it wasn't what it looked like, but I slapped him and said we were done. I can forgive a lot of things, but cheating isn’t one of them.”

“Loyalty is a good trait to want in a partner,” he mused.

“It is, but it’s a trait he didn't have apparently. At least we didn’t live together,” you continued, taking a breath. It hurt and felt good to talk about it. “We were supposed to come up here for a getaway and I debated cancelling the reservation, but I figured it would be a good way to clear my head.”

The kitchen felt warmer and you figured it was because you were close to the stove until you realized Bucky was right at your back. You went rigid when he inhaled. Maybe he was just smelling the food. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You gripped the ladle until your hand ached. “Not your fault,” you whispered, keeping perfectly still. If you moved forward, the stove would burn you. If you moved back, you’d be right against him. It was a small kitchen, but there was no reason for him to stand so close.

You didn’t exhale until he moved to set the drinks on the table. “You got a job?” he asked.

Clearing your throat, you nodded, thankful for the change in topic. “Yeah, data entry. Not too exciting, but it’s decent pay and I don’t have to go into an office or deal with traffic.” You scooped a generous portion of stew into a bowl for him, just in case he was really hungry. “As long as I have my laptop and an internet connection, I can get the job done.”

“Must be nice,” he commented, but it sounded more admirable than sarcastic. “You said you and your ex didn’t live together. Do you have a roommate? Pets?”

You side-eyed him. The tone was casual, but what was with the multiple questions? “I live alone because my apartment is about the size of a shoebox,” you said. It was cozy though and yours. “Nice thing is the rent is cheap. Sad thing is the building is pet free.”

He took out his phone as you got your bowl ready. “I have a cat,” he said, shoving the phone close to your face. It was a photo of a beautiful white cat sitting by a window. It was endearing picturing a burly man holding such a delicate creature. “Her name’s Alpine.”

You smiled at the image. “She’s really beautiful. I’ve always loved cats.”

He smiled a little, too, but it went away as fast as it appeared. “She’s very particular with people, but you’re welcome to meet her.” He took the bowl from your hand to carry them to the small table nearby. “She might like you since you’re sweet.”

Heat rolled up your neck. “That’s nice of you to offer, but I wouldn’t want to impose,” you said. It wasn’t like you had any plans during your time there, but he had done enough by chopping the firewood for you.

His jaw ticked. “If it was an imposition I wouldn't have asked.”

“Oh, I wasn't trying to imply anything,” you promised, your stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't your intention to upset him.

“Are you allergic to cats?”

“No, I’m not,” you answered.

He set the bowls on the table and leveled you with a hard stare. “Then I think you should meet her,” he said, pulling out a chair for you. It sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “Sit.”

You hesitated before you sat down. “Okay then,” you said. Maybe he was trying to make up for being rude earlier by welcoming you in some capacity. “Does tomorrow work?”

His lip curled up in a smile, giving you a nod, too. “Tomorrow. Early afternoon,” he replied, taking a seat. How did he still look so big sitting down? You watched him blow on a spoonful of stew before he took a bite, his eyes shutting with a groan. It was a deep, primal sound and you shouldn't have liked hearing it. “This is… really good.”

You beamed, unable to help yourself. You took pride in your cooking. “I’m glad you like it,” you said, digging in, too. “So, you said you’re a lumberjack now. How long have you been doing that?”

He hunched over a bit as he took a few more bites, like he hadn't eaten all day. “About nine months. Tough mission happened and I had to walk away from it.” He shrugged dismissively. Did the mission have a bad outcome or was it just the straw that broke the camel’s back? It wasn’t any of your business. “Came out to the woods with Alpine, started chopping down trees to work out some of my frustration, and it somehow became my new job. The woods suit me better than the city anyway.”

“Yeah? How so?”

He shrugged again. “It’s quiet, peaceful. No judging or prying eyes,” he answered, pushing the now empty bowl away. It almost sounded like he was hiding from the world. “And I don’t mind working with my hands. Can chop trees down pretty fast and it doesn’t take long to get the logs to the sawmill. Even built some of my own furniture in my place.”

“You build your own furniture? That’s so cool,” you smiled. It took a moment, but he smiled back a little. “Being a lumberjack sounds like hard but satisfying work,” you added. You admired him for being a hero, but also for his new, humble lifestyle.

“Yeah, it is.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. “This might be rude to ask, but you wouldn’t mind making us lunch tomorrow, would you? I can cook, but it’s nothing like yours.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Part of you took it as a compliment that he liked your cooking, but something in his stare made you want to squirm. Could it be the assumption that you were going to have lunch with him when all he said was that he wanted you to meet his cat? “I don’t mind,” you smiled. Maybe the guy was a bit lonely and just wanted someone to share a meal with. You could sympathize with that. “Anything in particular you like? If I don’t have it, I can go to town and-”

“Surprise me, doll.” The chair scraped along the floor as he pushed himself up, towering over the table and you. “And don’t bother going to town. Whatever you have here to cook, I’ll eat it.”

“I’ll surprise you then.” Your brows pinched as he went back to the kitchen. He walked around like he owned the place. “Oh, help yourself,” you said when he stopped at the stove for another bowl.

He paused to look back at you. His blue eyes looked a shade darker and you couldn’t help but shiver. “I plan to,” he stated.

You gave him a smile, discreetly patting your pants pocket to make sure you still had your phone on you. It wasn’t like you needed to call anyone for help, but you were all alone and had to be careful. You were still going to have a nice time though. It would be a relaxing trip and you could catch up on reading, relaxing, whatever you wanted.

Besides, Bucky was nearby just in case. The guy didn’t seem to have a complete sense of boundaries, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He was a hero. You didn’t have anything to fear.

Right?

Oh, our reader did herself no favors by answering truthfully that she's all alone. I wonder how Bucky will play this... Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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joemama-2 · 2 days ago

Text

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama wc: 5155 a/n: hi everyone! i'm so excited for this piece of work as I have a lot of exciting ideas planned in store! this will probably have slow updates, so please please please be patient with me. thank you all for reading! i'm aiming for at least 15ish chapters, maybe more or less, depends how much i write in one chapter in the future. next chapter

“Cash or card?”

“Card.”

The sound of light dinging follows, the transaction completed. “Here you go, Miss. Have a good day.”

“Thank you, you too.” The woman takes the small bag from your outstretched hands, giving one last smile before exiting. The bell at the top of the door rings, signifying her exit. You sigh and look at the clock, one more hour. It’s not that long. But you’ve been here since opening and the shoes you’re wearing are beginning to hurt your feet. Maybe you should’ve broken them in more.

It’s a quaint little cafe. Most of the customers are teenagers, college students, or overworked office workers who need caffeine to get them through the day. Other than that, you have no qualms. Of course, it does get a little annoying having to tell the newer, much younger co-workers that they can’t do this or that.

A mundane routine of making coffees, packing orders, and ringing them up. Just one more hour.

As soon as the clock strikes 5:00, you’re clocking out and saying goodbye. The school is an exact walk of ten minutes, six if you’re fast. Then another ten back to the apartment. And finally, another fifteen to the convenience store.

Hustle and bustle is all you’ve ever known. Sure, you like it most of the time. But you just wish you could get a break. It’s always go, go, go, but never take a rest and time to yourself for a moment. But when you see that adorable smile plaster on those chubby cheeks you never shy away from pinching, it’s all worth it. “Mama!”

“Baby!” you crouch down and open your arms. The young boy wastes no time in throwing his body into yours, face nuzzled into your chest and arms around your neck. “How was school? Fun?” you ask, hand rubbing his back up and down.

He nods. “Mhm! Mr. Ito says I got the most gold stars out of everyone in class.”

Your smile grows wistful, aweing. “Wow, such a good boy, aren’t you?”

You carry Koji into your arms, starting the walk back to your very humble apartment. He chatters innocently the entire trek, with you occasionally adding on or asking questions. His soft white hair pokes at your cheek, to which you straighten down with one free hand. It’s days like these where you wish you could just lounge at home with him, basking in his sweet innocence. But while most people are ending for the day, you’re barely starting your second half.

You feel the self-deprecating thoughts fill your mind like a virus while stationed near the light, waiting for the pedestal symbol to indicate. Your grip tightens around your son slightly, as if anchoring yourself to reality and reminding yourself you’re doing it all for him, and to keep going for him.

It’s hard, yes. But so is parenting.

The symbol comes on and you walk, seeing the building of your complex in the distance. Forcing any lingering negativity away, you clear your throat. “So, what did you learn today, baby?”

Koji looks up at you. “We learned how to add! I helped Mina.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

He giggles bashfully, leaning into the kiss you place on his cheek. Eyebrows raising as a sudden memory hits him. “Oh! And Mr. Ito said Dad Appreciation Day is next month. There’s gonna be food and music.”

Your smile wavers, footsteps momentarily pausing before continuing. “Oh, really?” you ask, inhaling a wavy breath of air. “That sounds like fun.”

“Mhm.” Koji nods, then tilts his head curiously at you. “But everyone is bringing their daddies. I wanna bring Papa too.”

And you really try not to make your guilty grimace visible. “I know, sweetie. I know.”

“Can Papa come?” he frowns.

No, he can’t. But you’re not about to tell your five-year-old that the reason his father can’t make an appearance is because he doesn’t even know he has a son. It’s been a difficult conversation for you. You’re not sure when or how to have these sorts of hard ones with children. So you’ve been dancing around the subject. Saying his dad is away on vacation, or fighting intergalactic dragons, or some other excuse you’ve been forced to use. He believes you, most of the time. But that doesn’t stop his curiosity and growing impatience.

The last thing you want him to think is that he has no father in the first place.

He does. You’ve shown him pictures and videos occasionally. Of, and of course, he’s an exact carbon copy of the man. From his bright blue eyes, albino hair, and all the way down to his stubborn personality. You were a little annoyed when your only child took quite literally everything from his father, only leaving him with a couple of things from you–your nose and helpful nature.

“We’ll see. Papa is busy, remember?” you gently reply, walking through the parking lot of your complex to the lobby.

Koji’s frown deepens and so do the metaphorical scars on your heart. “But Papa’s always busy! I wanna see Papa.”

“I know you do, baby. You will soon, okay?”

“Do you promise?”

You hesitate but eventually nod with a forced smile. “Mama promises.”

After leaving Koji with the babysitter, you give him a quick kiss and recite the list with the babysitter before rushing off to your second job. A convenience store.

Not the most savory place, mainly because you get all sorts of crazy and odd customers, but also because you are close. You hate closing. But you need the second disposable income and this is the only place that fits with your schedule. It’s also a little more leaned back than the cafe, when there are no customers, you spend your time browsing the web for jobs.

You’ve probably sent in over 500 applications over the years, with not even half of those places reaching out. Even then, you’re not guaranteed a job. The job market is horrible nowadays and you’re living through it.

Whatever, you think to yourself as you clock in. One day at a time.

It’s around eleven at night when you're slugging back into your apartment, lights dim, and silence enveloping the place. “Thank you, Sana.” You mutter, exhausted but still sparing the 20-year-old a smile. You hand her a small envelope. “For today and last Saturday. How was he?”

Sana thanks you kindly and grabs her stuff. “All good, no tantrums today.”

“That’s good.” you walk into the kitchen, grabbing some food you’ve meal prepped. “Get home safe, okay?”

“Thank you, Y/N. Sleep well.”

When she leaves, you give yourself a moment to slump over the kitchen island, sighing in both relief and lingering tiredness. The silence feels nice, like an old and familiar friend welcoming you and praising you after yet another day of the same routine. You’ve always loved routines, but you can’t help but crave at least some sort of spontaneity. Putting the tupperware of chicken and rice into the microwave for a minute, its light humming makes you zone out. The conversation from before with your son ringing in your mind like a very annoying bell.

Soon, images of his son, your ex, flood your mind. An old fluttery sensation residing in the pit of your stomach, your body suddenly feeling all too warm for your liking. Your fists clench to stop their light trembling, shaking your head free of him.

Not now.

You stop the microwave at one second, before it makes that obnoxious beeping and wakes your son. There are two chairs at the small dining table, you sit at one of them and eat your now warm meal. You’ve started meal prepping after one too many missed meals and a few incidents where that light-headedness and blurred vision caused you to faint. Luckily, you were alone when that happened. Unluckily, you were alone when that happened. Nursing a few bruises to your forehead after making contact was not a fun time.

You take time to eat, in no particular rush. Although you know you should be getting ready for bed soon for another early day tomorrow, your body doesn’t move. Either consciously or subconsciously. The end of the day is when you find yourself attempting to unwind and detach from the day’s events. But, the stress of unpaid bills, debts, and worry for the future always find time to crawl back.

It’s exhausting, extremely so. Sure, you’re an adult and this is normal. But don’t you deserve at least a little bit of time when you don’t have to worry about anything? It feels like every waking second your mind is working overtime, your body in a constant state of motion. It’s worn you down completely over the years. But you have a son who needs you, so you suppose you shouldn’t be feeling pity for yourself.

This is what parenting is all about, isn’t it?

Making sacrifice after sacrifice for your child. However, when you feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper, slowly losing more of yourself, what if there’s nothing left to sacrifice in the first place? The eviction bill from this morning taunts you as it lays upright in front of you in the middle of the table.

It’s then do you think, no, you do have one thing left.

Koji.

If Koji’s gone, then you really have nothing left. There’s no reason to live if that happens. And with the path you’re going down, that’s feeling more and more like a dreaded possibility.

I wanna see Papa.

Koji’s words play repeatedly. For a second, you feel yourself resonating with your son. Only for a second. You reach for your phone and go to Google, typing in a name that still haunts you. You’re barely three letters in before his name appears and you’re clicking.

A smiling image fills your screen along with other general information.

For some unknown reason, your breath hitches. You feel like he’s almost staring at you, smiling at your pathetic predicament. Grip tightening around your phone, swallowing down an unexpecting lump, tears fall from your eyes and onto the phone screen.

Why you’re crying, you don’t know. It could be many things, but you won’t address that right now.

Gojo Satoru.

The father of your child, your ex of 4 years.

You rarely look him up, almost never. Only in desperate times when you feel yourself drowning and needing some sort of comfort. It’s stupid. You haven’t been together or even seen him in seven years. Not since you ended things with him. Not since you felt his hands roam your skin, whispering sweet words.

He didn’t even protest or question why. Almost like he knew your breakup was inevitable. You’re not sure if that hurts more.

You’re twenty-eight now. But while your life still feels the same from when you met Satoru at the ripe age of seventeen, you’ve reached a plateau. But him? He’s thriving, of course. Making a name for himself, as an heir to one of the biggest conglomerates in Japan, the Gojo Group.

You’re happy for him. But where is that happiness for yourself?

You feel a little, no, a lot jealous. You always were of Satoru. Being given everything he wants without much thought, never worrying about money, and a stable home life. You’re extremely jealous of that bastard.

But right now, jealousy isn’t in the picture. It’s your son’s father. And if you want to keep your son, give him everything he wants, that starts with one person.

Letting him meet his father.

“Honey, do you like your pancakes?” you ask your son who’s currently scarfing down his plate of breakfast. Adorned in an adorable shirt uniform shirt and some little black trousers. He hums back excitedly with a muffled “yes, mama”. With a chuckle, you dry up the rest of the dishes, then your hands. Dropping him off at school is the first thing on your agenda, as per usual.

The walk to his school is a familiar one, wanting to get your son knowledgeable with the route so when the day comes that he needs to walk him himself, he’d know his way back. You pass by other kids and parents, some children yelling bye as they step onto the school grounds, with others giving their children long-lasting hugs.

You walk until you reach his door, his teacher, Mr. Ito, standing outside and greeting his students as they enter. When he makes eye contact with Koji, he smiles a bit wider. “Good morning, Koji.”

“Good morning!” your son happily replies, waving up at his teacher. With one final hug and kiss shared, he’s running in to already begin talking to his friends. Standing back up, you see Mr. Ito already looking at you. And you especially don’t miss the way his eyes not so subtly rake up and down your figure. You clear your throat. “Good morning.”

He meets your eyes again. “Good morning, Y/N-san. How are you today?”

“Good, and you?”

“Very good.”

The way his tone is almost causes you to visibly shiver, brows furrowing slightly in discomfort. One of the things you dislike the most about Koji’s school, his teacher. Although he hasn’t outwardly done or said anything inappropriate, you’re a smart woman. “That’s good. Well…have a nice day.” Doing anything you can to quickly end this dreaded conversation, but still wanting to maintain a level of politeness.

You’re about to turn on your heel and leave when he calls out. “Ah, Y/N-san?”

Damn it, what now? “Yes?” you turn and look at him.

The distance between you reduces as he steps a little closer. “I have some concerns regarding Koji’s behavior in class. Would you be available to set up a conference anytime this week?”

“Behavior? Has he been misbehaving?” You did not expect that.

“Well, it’s complicated. He has some trouble listening as talks when he shouldn’t. I’d like to nip this in the bud before it grows out of control.” Mr. Ito cooly replies, smile looking more like a hidden smirk. “So, will you be available?”

You hesitate, not really. With your two jobs, you barely have time for yourself, let alone your son’s teacher. But if it’s regarding a behavior problem, then do you have any choice? “I think I’ll be free this Saturday. Weekdays are very hectic for more.”

He nods. “That’s fine, we can grab coffee.” When your head tilts slightly, he adds on with a chuckle. “And discuss Koji over coffee. On me.”

Right, of course. You know what this is, but just think about your son. That’s the priority. “Okay, 8 am at Latte Lounge sound good?”

“Sounds excellent, I’ll see you then. Have a wonderful day.”

With a simple nod back, you turn around and finally leave. Practically feeling the way his eyes shamelessly check out your behind. A frown inevitably grows on your face, why wouldn’t it? As long as this man doesn’t try anything…more, you should be fine. And if he does, 1) you’ll be in public, and 2) you’ll tell him straight up.

Whatever.

“Pizza or teriyaki?”

“Pizza!”

“Of course.” you chuckle and put the frozen pizza in your cart, your son clutched onto your right hand after announcing he can walk on his own because he’s a big boy. The grocery store isn’t crowded during this time of day. Rightfully so. It’s 7 pm on a Tuesday, most people already cooking dinner by now. You always grocery shop at this time, your son appreciates it too. There’s been a few times when you both got quickly and very overwhelmed with the bustling nature of the grocery store on a weekend morning. Currently, you’re moving through the snack section now, picking up a few of your and Koji’s favorites.

“Mama, can I pick a cereal?” Koji asks and points to the cereal aisle next over. When you nod, he happily runs off. You still however make sure to look over at him frequently when picking up and putting down a few snacks.

You reach up to grab a pack of Hello Panda, the pink and chocolate ones, before a hand beats you to it. “Oh, I’m sorry.” As soon as you look over, you and the stranger meet eyes.

Immediately, there’s a silence that falls over you two. Eyes each blown wide in shock.

Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.

Just your luck. As soon as the stranger speaks, a strange nostalgia fills you. “Y-Y/N?”

It almost sounds weird coming from his lips. Your friend–well, ex?--friend gets out. He still looks the same, just more…manly.

“...Suguru, I–I’m… surprised to see you.” you awkwardly laugh. Reunions were never easy.

“Oh my god,” Suguru breaths out, shaking his head with a faint smile. “Well, shit. I mean, how are you? You..you look good.” His eyes move down your figure in an appreciative way.

“Thank you, I’m good. How are you? Your hair is longer.” you motion to his sea of black, healthy locks. “ ‘M a little jealous.”

He laughs with you, the sound reminding you of old times. “Yeah, been working on it. And I’m good.”

Another pause is permitted, as if you two aren’t very sure what to say to one another. Well, in all honesty, it has been seven years. “Well,” he clears his throat and puts his hands in his pockets. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, you know,” you glance down at your cart. “Just some shopping.”

He also looks down, head tilting slightly. “Ah, right.” With a nod, he juts his head toward the direction of the kid’s toothpaste. “Just for one?” He laughs, joking of course.

You mentally curse yourself, putting a pack of cookies on top of the toothpaste to hide its already revealed existence. “Uh, ye—”

“Mama! I want this one!” Koji runs up to you, showcasing his desired cereal.

Well…..shit.

As if things weren’t already complicated.

With Suguru’s eyes even wider than when they were staring at you, his mouth is practically on the floor when the young boy looks at him. His sharp eyes dart across his features and…..

“I-is this—”

“Koji.” you cut him off, gulping and shifting the child closer to your leg. “My son.”

Suguru spends another good minute staring at the boy, who innocently stares back. When his eyes slowly move from the blue ones to yours, there are a million and more questions swirling in his brain. He’s not even sure which one to ask first. But he goes with the obvious. “...Is….is he…..”

You nod uncomfortably.

He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, hand running through his hair. “Holy shit, I mean….holy heck.”

Your lips purse, putting Koji’s cereal in your cart before picking him up in your arms. “Koji, this is Suguru. Say hi.”

“Hi.” Koji childishly smiles at the older man. “Are you Mama’s friend?”

Suguru spares you a glance. “Uhm…yeah. Yeah, kid, I am. Nice to meet you.” He then shifts weirdly, not sure if he should shake the boy’s hand, which seems too formal. He decides to gently ruffle his hair. “So…how old is he?” The question is directed towards you, but Koji answers. “I’m five!” He holds up five small fingers.

“Five?” Suguru’s brows furrow at you. It’s surprising how quickly you recognize that scolding look of his. “Have you—”

“No.” you once again cut him off, shifting Koji to your hip. “I haven’t.”

“Why?”

That’s a good question. One you know the answer to…slightly. But with Koji looking between you two curiously, you can’t exactly say why. At least not here. “I….I just…haven’t.”

Silence.

You can feel Suguru regarding you with many emotions, but the main one is confusion. He bites his lip as he thinks over how to react properly to this situation. From the looks of it, Koji is just as clueless as him, maybe even more. “Jesus Christ, I don’t even know what to say right now.” Heavily sighing, he looks back at Koji, then you, then Koji, then finally you. “You’re going to…right? I mean, he deserves to know, Y/N. You’ve just–I mean, come on.”

There’s not much of a response to that, much to his expectation. You always used to do this when you were guilty. But Suguru has always been the more… empathetic of the two. “Look, I–I know you’re probably going through your own things, but…”

You look at him again, remorseful. His lips purse and with a heavy sigh, he takes a card out from his pocket and hands it to you. “Here’s my business card, it has my number. We lost your old one, so.”

Your hand reaches out to take it, examining the words, Rising Futures Foundation. "Building futures, one child at a time.” You meet his eyes again, forcing words out. “Okay…thanks.”

“No need,” he waves you off, taking down the two Hello Panda boxes and putting them in your cart. “I’m sorry, I have things to do right now, but please…give me a call, okay?”

With slight hesitation, you nod. He mirrors you before focusing on the child again, a smile forming. “See you, buddy.” Suguru pats his shoulder lightly before walking away and away from your vision.

Your mind is being overrun, body feeling stiff and stuck, unsure of how to process what the fuck just happened. No doubt he’s about to tell his best friend. Then said best friend will find you and Koji. Then maybe he’ll try taking you to court for hiding his son for five years. You’ll obviously lose because you have no lawyer and Satoru has the best. Your son, your one and only, your sole happiness will be taken away from you and you’ll be left alone to rot in angui–

“Mama?” Koji’s small hand is put to your cheek, stirring you from your mild comatose state. “Are you okay? You have tears in your eyes.”

“What?” Raising your hand to your eye and sure enough, you are letting loose some tears. “No, no, Mama’s okay. I’m not crying, just…just tired.”

But with growing age, so is his perception. “Are you sure? Did your friend make you cry? I don’t like him then.”

Oh, how sweet. You smile, head tilting. “No, baby. Don’t say that, okay? Mama’s fine. I promise. See? I’m smiling. Wanna smile with me?”

Like clockwork, he follows your emotions and smiles, giggling. “Yeah, I wanna smile with you. I like smiling with you, Mama.”

“And I like it when you smile with me too.”

Maybe, this isn’t too bad. You were just thinking that you want Koji to finally meet his dad. So, this is good. This ensures a meeting. But, it also ensures a deep-rooted, most likely bad confrontation that will take place between you two. Why wouldn’t it? At least you’ll be able to prepare yourself now, mentally.

You can imagine the harsh words he might say. The raised voices and brutal questions about how you can do this to him and so on. In hindsight, you deserve it. What kind of woman does do this to a man? Children are supposed to be bundles of joy, not hidden secrets. Of course, there’s the lingering worries of what legal action Satoru, or his family, might try to take.

That would quite literally fuck you over so hard.

But…maybe Satoru will go easy on you because of your past. You really don’t know. This situation is messy as fuck and it’s mostly—a lot—because of you. You have no one to blame but yourself. Hopefully, he’ll take pity on you, even though you hate when others pity you. It’s different when it comes to him, the father of your son. It always has been and it probably always will be.

Honestly, you’re a little relieved that you ran into the best friend of the man than the man himself. Now that would’ve been bad.

The sounds of skin against skin fill the room, mixed with heavy grunts and airy moans. The headboard repeatedly hitting the wall plays like a drum, the lights dim and the view of the dark city landscape is exposed. Satoru’s gripping the woman’s hips, leaving crescent-shaped indents in her fair skin. Her constant mewls sound heavenly in his ears. “God, you feel so….good…”

“S-satoru!”

“Yeah, say my name. Just like that, baby.”

He presses a firm hand down on the small of her back to keep her arch in place, feeling his release invade her warm walls, filling her with a lovely warmth. She clenches around him, moaning out once more as she finishes with him.

He collapses against her back, his heavy breaths tingling her ear. “Baby, that was…so good…” she croaks out.

Satoru’s mind is fuzzy, vision blurring slightly. He hums in response and leans back up to pull out, discarding the heavy condom with his load into the trashcan beside the bed. “Stay.” With a small pat to her hip, he’s forcing his limbs out of bed and to the connecting bathroom to grab a warm rag. Aftercare. Although most of the time, he really can’t be bothered to do something like this. Cleaning her up feels like a chore sometimes, but the last time he voiced that opinion, it led to a huge argument between the two.

In just a few minutes, they’re both cleaned and changed. Wearing his sweats low on his hips while she indulges in just one of his oversized shirts. Another small pet peeve he has. And another thing he must keep his mouth shut about. “What time do you have to go into the office tomorrow?” Himari asks, snuggled up against his chest, dainty fingers tracing circles along the firm muscles.

“Same time as always,” he sighs, grabbing the TV remote and putting a random show on. “You know that.”

“I know, but…can’t you just call off tomorrow? Please? I wanna spend the day with you.”

When he looks back down at her, she’s frowning. A small tug is pulled at his heart and before he knows it, he’s pulling her closer and placing a gentle kiss to her hair. “Can’t, baby. Maybe this weekend?”

Satoru can feel her ready to protest again, but the sound of the front door downstairs being opened and closed interrupts the moment. Followed by the familiar voice of his friend. “Satoru! You here?”

Satoru’s brows furrow slightly. A small grunt falls from his lips as he maneuvers Himari off his chest, standing up and walking out. He looks down the staircase and sees Suguru staring up at him. “What do you want? I’m sorta busy.” Himari comes out and hugs his waist, proof of his so-called “busyness”.

Suguru holds back an eye roll when the woman gives him a look, focusing on his best friend. “Need to talk to you. Privately.”

“For what?”

“It’s important.”

“So just say it now.”

“Damn it, Satoru. Just come down and kick your friend out.”

“Girlfriend.” Himari corrects with a scowl.

“Yeah, sure.” Suguru waves her off and motions for Satoru to come down as he walks into the man’s kitchen.

Sighing with his eyes closed, he turns to Himari. “Sorry, babe. My driver’ll give you a ride back.”

Once again, she frowns. “But I—”

“Please.”

His bottom lip pokes out in a small, but convincing pout. “I’ll see you later, mkay?” Satoru reaches his thumb out and brushes it along her cheekbone, which he knows she’s weak for. Confliction and hesitation dance in her eyes but she concedes. Gathering her purse and shows, she gives Satoru a dramatic kiss on the lips before leaving.

“Finally,” Suguru huffs from the kitchen, swirling a glass of whiskey. “I thought you guys broke up.”

“It was a break.” Satoru grumbles, walking over to stand across from his friend, snatching the glass out his hand and sipping. “Anyway, what’s so important you come unannounced for and demand my sweet company to leave?”

“That woman is not sweet.”

Satoru smiles and shrugs, “She tastes it.”

A groan is heard from Suguru, eyes rolling before he shakes his head. “Look, you should sit down.”

“That good, huh?” he plops down in the nearby chair and leans back, arm resting against the back of it. He nods. “Alright, shoot, baby.”

Suguru takes in a deep breath and steels himself for the more than likely hard conversation. A part of him feels like he’s intruding, like it’s not his place to reveal such a thing to him. But at the end of the day, it’s his best friend. And you, well…he’s not exactly sure if you’re still friends or not. “What I tell you might sound crazy, but I need you to promise you’ll stay calm until I’m done speaking, got it?”

Satoru’s brows raise in mild astonishment, seeing Suguru get all serious like this is quite amusing. “Okay, I promise.” He shrugs again. “Can’t be that bad, right? No one’s hurt.”

Not yet, Suguru says to himself. He claps his hands together, mulling over how exactly to break the news. “So, I came across an old friend today.”

“Oh yeah? She cute?” Satoru swirls the alcohol in his glass.

Suguru holds back another eye roll. “Yeah, she is.”

“Nice, man.” the white-haired man chuckles, head tilting. “So what, did she make a move on you or something? Now that’s crazy.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m actually quite favorable amongst women.”

“Are you now?”

“Listen, you ass. No talking, just listening.” When he doesn’t get a response back, he takes it as a sign to continue. “Anyway, I saw an old friend. And…she had a kid with her.” Satoru nods slowly, already getting lost on his this information is even remotely crazy, or relevant to him. But he stays shut, deciding not to face another one of Suguru’s mini-lectures. One more deep breath is let out from Suguru and he gets to the point. “It was Y/N, she has a kid.”

A small beat of silence follows as Suguru gauges his best friend’s reaction. He doesn’t look like he’s flipping out, but he doesn’t show much emotion either. Confusing Suguru, he waits for the inevitable lash out.

“Who?” Satoru ends up asks.

His best friend knits his brows, trying to see if the other man is serious or not. When his expression doesn’t change, he replies. “Y/N…” he speaks slowly. “...your ex?”

Still, no emotion. But his grip on the glass does tighten. “And she has a kid.” Suguru reiterates, almost in nervousness now.

“Satoru….the kid looks exactly like you.”

a/n: thank you guys for reading!!! Sorry if this chapter was a little short, i’ll try to make the next ones a little more longer. But writing super huge chapters isn’t my forte. Anyway, stay tuned for chapter 2 :)

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whokilledsamara · 2 days ago

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Could you please write a mr scarletta x afab reader smut 🙏🏼 high key based on all the art of his umbrella being his member or it brings him pleasure when rubbed. Maybe where reader is riding the curved handle of rubbing it between her legs 🫣 if not thank you for taking your time to even just read this!

UMBRELLA

a Mr. Scarletella x afab!reader fic. {an: ooo when i tell you i think about this NIGHTLY}

warnings || misuse of an umbrella, humping, riding an inanimate object, public {for Mr. Scarletella}, afab reader, smut, indirect sex

he always made sure you had it- his umbrella. it was his entire heart and soul, literally him as a being. he trusted you enough- enough that he would leave you with it at all times. he could feel every touch from it, every time your fingers grazed the mesh. you were his human, and he would do anything to mark you as his. regardless if you gave him your name or not.

honestly, you never realized how much it really affected him. you thought all the times he would flinch as you opened the umbrella was just him being, well, him. the way his face would flush and eyes would widen as your hand held the handle, seemed normal to you. though, the more you thought about it, it all started to make sense. Mr. Scarletella was known to be weird and unsettling, but you didn't mind too much. he scared off any creatures that posed a threat to you, plus he was kinda hot-... in his own, creepy way.

it was late at night, or so you assumed- there really wasn't any way to tell time here.. but as you grew restless, tossing and turning on the makeshift bed you had, an idea came to mind. though it was rather risky,, and rather lewd, you couldn't help it. there was really no action here, and all this built up sexual tension definitely didn't help.

your eyes glare daggers at the umbrella that was perched next to your bed. a long stare at that. your thoughts kept debating whether to take the risk or not, until you finally sighed and grabbed it.

he was busy at the time, doing who knows what, but his actions paused when he felt your hands on him- his umbrella. you're supposed to be sleeping, why are you awake? his eyes narrow but he decides to carry on with whatever he was doing.

you on the other hand, were too busy shimmying off your small red panties, still debating your life choices as you rub your fingers down to your entrance, lubing your whole pussy up before shifting in a sitting position, umbrella underneath you. the stick of it was long, and slightly thick. there was a curve at the end for the handle. sighing softly, you lower your cunt on the stick part of it, rubbing your clit on the long pole. your breath instinctively hitches, a hushed whine leaving your lips. your hips move faster and faster, eyes clenching shut.

his heartbeat speed up, so fast he could hear it. his back hits the wall near him and his face turns red, hand coming up to cover his mouth. eyes still wide and staring off into space, his legs slightly trembling as he stays pressed against rhe wall.

oh.. so thats what you're doing..

meanwhile, your small moans grew heavier, pussy lubing up the pole and making it slide easier. one hand was places on the mesh of the umbrella, while the other was on the side of it, keeping you held up. your cunt was so desperately humping it, seeking as much friction as it could. unfortunately, it wasn't enough.

when he feels the pressure be pulled off, he sighs, having a hard time catching his breath as he processes what just happened. his boner was noticeable even through his raincoat, so prominent that it was impossible to cover. his eyes clench shut and he lets out a shaky breath, attempting to catch himself, his eyes widen with shock and a loud groan suddenly escapes him as he feels you actually slip onto the handle of the umbrella. his fucking cock. he drops to his knees and clenches his stomach, eyes wide and a grin that stretches ear to ear. his teeth sunk into his lip, blood seeping out. shaky breaths and whines spill from him, hair somewhat covering his face as his eyes stare off. you were gonna be the death of him.

your breath hitches and you let out a loud, pleased moan, the handle of the umbrella hitting just the right spot so deep inside of you that you almost came as soon as you started. you couldn't get enough, both your insides and clit were being stimulated from your frantic riding. your hips shuttered, moving at an impossible pace, head thrown back and mewls slipping freely from your lips. you needed it so bad, wanted to cum so desperately that you didn't care how you got it. nor did you care that you were riding a fucking umbrella.

the handle hits a perfect peak. your eyes roll back so far into your skull and you let out one last loud moan, hips sputtering and an orgasm crashing though you. the handle was still deep inside, a bit of drool sliding down your chin. your eyes dart down at the sight- a messy umbrella covered in both your juices and orgasm, but also.. semen?

oh shit.

embarrassment covers your face, realizing your mistake. you hopelessly forgot that his umbrella was practically him as a being, and you just rode it, let alone came on it. you slowly pull it out of you, an unwilling whimper leaving your lips at the feeling.

how could you possibly get out of this one..?

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

#smut #homicipher #homicipher x reader #afab reader #mr. scarletella #mr scarletella #mr scarletta #mr. scarletella x you #mr. scarletella x reader #mr. scarletella x y/n #misuse of an object #misuse

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callmecoke · 2 days ago

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sugar baby headcanons!

CW: Mention of sex work, This is sfw generally but still deals with adult topics so proceed with caution.

Tf141 x reader

What you’ve realised about your favourite mystery account is that A) it's run by multiple people, and B) At least one of them is called Price.

You can’t exactly pinpoint who the rest are or how many, but you’ve managed to identify a few common themes when interacting with the account.

First, you know who Price is, and you can almost always tell it's him when he’s interacting with you. He’s the one you go to first regarding bills and fees you physically can’t pay. Within seconds, he transfers you the money and never lets you thank him for any of it. He also does his weekly check-ins to make sure everything is good. “Have you eaten?” “How’d you sleep?” “Did you take your meds last night?” That kind of thing. He’s also the one who calls you ‘Dolly’, a nickname he reserved for you.

But you're also pretty sure this other guy (Simon) lurks in the chat when you’re streaming. He won’t ask questions; he just sends you random tips throughout the stream while he watches silently. He’s not as talkative as Price or the others, and that’s kind of how you know it's him. But you’ve realised that just because he’s quiet doesn't mean he doesn't want to talk. It’s quite the opposite. He enjoys hearing you talk about your life and day and silently rewards you. When you DM him, you even get a little conversation. Nothing more than money and a “Nice”, but still conversation nonetheless.

You know one other fellow spends most of his time in the livestreams and not in your DMs (Gaz). He’s the one who engages with you in conversation the most, asking endless questions about your life. And he always comes back on the next live stream, remembering everything you said in the last. He’ll want the update on that project you were working on for school or if that job interview went as well as you both had hoped. If you weren’t Live to complete strangers, you’d probably open up to him about stuff you’ve never told anyone.

Now…One more person shows up now and again, mainly in your DMs. Part of the service for the website is that people can pay you to take a selfie and give it to them. They can be dirty or completely innocent; it all depends on what you’re advertising. There’s this one person who rather frequently asks for pictures of you, especially those with you smiling. You know it’s a different guy from the others you’ve spotted because he’s the only one who's outright flirtatious with you. Initially, you were wary. A man spending a lot of money on pictures of your face and upper body just screams trouble. But you grew to trust the account, so when you sent them the image, you were surprised by how quickly he showered you with praise.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’ll give a strong man a heart attack walking around that gorgous.”

“Makes me wonder how cute you look in person.” “I’m surprised no ones come along and snatched you up all ready. Can’t complain though. Means I get more of you to myself.”

You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a slight blush on your cheeks after reading his responses.

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fyeahnix · 1 day ago

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Remember when I said this?

Sevika the mf who will wear a tanktop just so she can flex at random to fluster you

Yeah....

------

The promise of seeing your beloved for an extended stretch of time carried you through the Lanes with all the grace of a romantic newly in love. Afternoon crowds were thin in all of Zaun, and you were thankful for it as every new set of bodies you weaved through added time to the internal estimation of your journey six streets up the road. Arriving in what you assumed was record time, you trudged up three flights of dilapidated stairs and down the hall to the corner apartment. You nodded at a familiar neighbor stepping out of their home only to be hit with a baffled expression that read “you again?”

When they left, you knocked.

Waited.

No answer.

You wet your lips and knocked again with more intention. Several seconds passed. You aimed to knock once more but the lock clicked. Your gaze rose directly to your girlfriend's projected eyeline right before she opened up and exposed half her body in the doorway.

A black tank top adorned her upper half, haphazard and in disarray like she’d thrown it on seconds ago. One shoulder threatened to slip down past her missing arm. Grey sweatpants covered her bottom half, hanging low off her hips to expose her boxer brief’s waistband and the trail of dark hair descending from her navel. Her feet? Bare.

You gave her a once-over and a teasing smirk. "You just woke up, didn't you?"

"What?” Sevika said, recoiling and scrunching her face. “No. Been up...'bout...an hour."

You could have believed her if you hadn't already been familiar with that sleepy, sexy drawl. Still, it was amusing to force a staring contest with her to see how quickly she'd cave and admit it. And it wasn't long before she waved the white flag and rubbed her hand down her face.

She sighed, voice still drenched in sleep. "Yeah, I just woke up."

"Thought so.” You pecked her on the cheek as you stepped past her inside. It was still dark throughout so you flipped on the lights and curled up in your favorite corner of her couch.

She closed and locked up behind you. When she approached, she signaled for you to move and stole your spot to pull you down on her lap.

You couldn’t shake the smile that graced your lips. Through dark tresses, you cradled your girlfriend's head, thumbs massaging her cheeks and the bags under her eyes. The valleys of her arcane scars registered under your finger pads. Like stained glass, they glimmered when catching the light, and though they no longer pained her, you still exercised caution so they wouldn't shatter under your touch. Every caress lulled her further into a relaxed trance with eyelids feathering shut and dark lips parting to welcome your advance. Instead, you knocked foreheads with her. Rested there and drank in her essence. Whatever tension from the work day you held coiled within you unfurled at the first note of faint citrus and woodsy underbrush, the scent you associated with home.

You pulled away slowly, much to Sevika's dismay, and she floated backwards until her head and one arm rested against the back of the couch. She smiled when her eyes fluttered open to drink you in.

"Rough night?" you asked.

"Mmhm... And too long."

You reached out to rub Sevika's arm when she rested her head on her fist. Shoulder to bicep to forearm and back again. "What time’d you get in?"

"Five-ten, I think. Maybe five-twenty. Passed out right after a shower." She rubbed the sleep out of her eye and then glanced at your hands exploring her arm. "What about you? You're off work early."

Even half-flexed, Sevika's arm was rock-hard. She was muscular, and you'd be lying if you said that wasn't one of the myriad things you loved about her. For as often as you lost yourself in her storm-grey eyes, you stumbled equally as lost admiring the statuesque figure she carved her body into after years of work and effort. What could you say, really? Discipline was attractive.

Sevika tensed her arm under your touch, and you responded in kind with a teasing squeeze to her bicep.

"I... finished early. Thought it'd be nice to spend some time with you before the reservation tonight."

Sevika snorted. "Bad luck then."

"Mm, not really. I mean... you haven't worked out yet, right? Back and biceps today?"

She shot you an accusatory glance. "No."

"Oh, come on, baby."

"Cannot believe you came all the way over here just to watch me lift."

You poked your bottom lip out.

“Oh, stop.” She pinched you in your rib.

"You see this? This is me pouting."

Sevika's willpower may have been stronger than yours, but it wasn't infinitely unyielding. A small twitch of her lip broke through; the facade cracked.

"You see this?" she retorted, pointing at her left side. Her shoulder twitched. "This is me flipping you off right now."

"Oh, fuck off." You pushed at her collar playfully.

"If you just wanted to see me flex..." And she did. Her bicep and shoulder bunched and coiled; veins decorated her beautiful skin. Your gaze darted from the sculpted lines between her muscles to the tuft of hair under her arm to the stupid, smug smile spreading across her face. "...all you had to do was ask."

...

And you very well could have died right then and there.

"Hah, look at you. Your face. Every time." Sevika nuzzled her nose in your neck and collar. Breathed you in. "Help me work out and shower with me after?"

"Hmm... That's tough. I get to see you sweat, but then I have to deal with a cold shower? After you just made fun of me? I dunno, Vika."

"I think that’s fair considering you only came over to see me push my bicep in your face."

"Okay, first off, that’s not why I came early. And second, counteroffer: warm shower and…” You pondered for a moment then graced the shell of her ear with your whispered plan. “…I’ll let you fuck my face before we leave. Or…maybe in the restroom while we’re out?”

As you pulled away, Sevika’s brow lifted slowly. Her eyes caught yours and her nose creased with her growing smirk. “Mierda… Should just let you handle all of Silco’s negotiations instead, huh?”

“So, that a deal?”

“Deal.”

------

taglist: @gaudesstuff @archangeldyke-all @abitohoney @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat

@ash-fall7 @the-anonmaton

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ttrashlord · 3 days ago

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⋆ ˚⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚⋆Headcanons of Arcane men kissing reader and how to they kiss (no gender specific) ⋆ ˚⋆୨♡୧⋆

Pairing:Steb x reader,Viktor x reader,Ekko x reader

STEB

It depends on the situation,if you two are in public (let's say in a date) he is sweet,tender,but nothing more than that.

If things start to get heated he will slowly apart and say something like: "not here hon' "or " let me save this moment for later"

If you're alone,in his or your house,that's different story.

He is selfcontroled...usually.

Your kisses start slow,tender,sweet,but the more he gets of you,the more he WANTS of you.

If you're on his lap,and start a whole make out session,oh boi,lets get ready to the MOST tender boyfriend you ever met (maybe besides Viktor)

He won't just slip his hand on your body (he's not a beast) he is asking for permission,and i mean this,for ANYTHING ALWAYS.

I have this headcanons where he instead of normal teeth he has sharp teeth,like sharks and kirishima

He won't do the thing where the person bites the other one's lip and pull (or any bite in general) because of this.

VIKTOR

Viktor is a goddamn problem,because you just don't know what to expect.

Imagine that you're on his lab (for our sanity jayce is gone early) and you're reading something in your chair,suddenly,hands appear on your shoulders,turns you around and BOOM,a heated,needy kiss from your boyfriend.

How did this even happen??

Dont complain pls i beg u

Just a few moments before,he was giving you pecks on the neck and cheeks,and now this??

(I mean,if i was you i will definetly not complain)

So when viktor is like this:

You want to rest in your bed and receive sweet love from your sweet boyfriend? Check

You want a whole make out session with no oxygen in your lungs? Check

You want It,you got It.

EKKO

(We all saw the scene with jinx but listen to me)

He is just into pda,(don't disrespect me on this one)

He will show It to you if:

1-is jealous,like,SUPER jealous

2you start the pda

He doesn't have a problem,like a said before,he likes It,but doesn't like to start It

But if you're in private oh oh oh boi pray to be saved from his love.

He cant get just enough of you.

He doesn't give two fucks about starting slow,he knows what he wants,and he wants It NOW

he is the type to try new things just to know your reaction.

Bites,caressing,tongue,the knee,Who said that?

But anyways,if you are in a bad mood or just need to be reminded how much he loves you,a slow,Deep kiss and a lots of pecks in your whole face will be given.

But yeah,you get the idea of how he usually is.

A/N-it's strange that i post like 4 post in a day?

Thank you so much for reading this!

I'll be doing so much more,about...you know...things

But i'll Focus more on arcane and fandoms that i know

I'll like to Focus more on steb because this poor baby deserves much more love ;(

See y next post ;) 🫰

#steb x reader #steb x reader arcane #steb #steb arcane #viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x reader arcane #ekko arcane #ekko x reader #ekko x reader arcane

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peppermintquartz · 22 hours ago

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Buck volunteers for the Thanksgiving shift. When Maddie asks, he apologizes, saying, "I don't really feel festive right now. But keep some leftovers for me?"

On the day, firehouses around the country all have similar calls to deal with: kitchen grease fires from frying turkeys, sprains in backyard games of football, people injuring one another because "did you hear what she said about our Emma/Francis/Kailey?". Buck is kept too busy to think, and it's nice having the time to catch up with Ravi, who's thinking of going to school to study law.

Their brothers and sisters in uniform also drop off dishes at the station, so between calls, they get pretty good food. Captain Graham gives them an hour offline after four consecutive calls. Buck collapses into a chair and serves himself pasta salad and a delicious honey baked ham, while his dinner rolls warm up in the oven.

He's scrolling through his phone, diligently avoiding the messaging apps, when a message preview pops up.

Tommy.

Buck almost drops his fork. He scrambles away from the dinner table, even though no one on C shift will try to take his phone from him, and finds a spot in the stairwell to read it.

Tommy: hope you have a good & safe Thanksgiving

As he's reading, another bubble appears and Buck's heart skips several beats, but this time it doesn't disappear. A second message arrives, followed by a third.

Tommy: don't know why I texted that

Tommy: guess I just wanted to say something to you

Tommy: you don't have to reply

Tommy: anyway. Happy holidays

Buck feels a slight loosening of the vice around his heart that has been there since that night. With a smile on his face, he types, deletes, types again.

Buck: happy Thanksgiving to you too

Buck: how many kitchen grease fires you got this year? We had 3

Tommy: you're working today?

Tommy: 4, but one of it was in the backyard

They're having a conversation. They're having an actual casual conversation, as easy as they used to on calmer shifts. Buck wants to cry. But he has to answer Tommy's question or have this conversation end too soon. Thinking about his options, he decides that he has nothing to lose anyway.

Buck: I didn't wanna sit around and smile and pretend I'm thankful for everything

Buck: it's better to keep busy

Tommy: I know that feeling

Tommy: I'm sorry

Buck: I'm sorry too

Buck: I wish we could've celebrated together

Buck: I would've said that I'm thankful for you

Tommy: I would have said that too

Tommy: I'm still thankful for you jsyk. I'll always be grateful to have got to know you

Does Tommy think he can't stay in Buck's life just because they broke up?

Buck: I don't think you know me well enough

Tommy: sorry

Buck wishes he'd run after Tommy that night, or done something since to show that he wants Tommy. Well, here's your chance, his brain reminds him. Do something.

He takes a deep breath. Then he types.

Buck: I want to meet. If I come over after Thanksgiving shift, will you please be home?

Tommy: is that a good idea

Buck: idk. But I can't stop thinking about you, and I miss you, and I wanna know what I did wrong. I wanna meet.

Tommy: I miss you too. You didn't do anything wrong, I just didn't want to... Idk. I didn't want to get my hopes up too much.

Buck: we need to talk in person. Texting is not good enough.

It isn't. He needs to see Tommy again. Tommy with his storm blue eyes and tender smile and broad shoulders and soft clothes. Tommy whose crinkly smile drives Buck a little (a lot) insane. Tommy whose lips he now knows the shape of by touch alone, whose body he has mapped out in detail, who knows how it feels to be inside Buck in the most intimate of ways.

He waits for a response. Hopes there will be one. It comes several minutes after, like Tommy had to really think about it.

Tommy: maybe not immediately after Thanksgiving shift

Tommy: are you off on Monday

The relief that crashes into Buck feels almost as overwhelming as the tsunami he was caught in years ago.

Buck: yes

Buck: your place this time

Buck: I'll bring cake

Tommy: you don't have to bribe me to open the door

Buck: no I just baked too much stuff is all. I'll explain when we meet

Buck: I'm really thankful you texted

Tommy: I'm thankful you replied

Tommy: have a good rest of the shift, Evan

It's Evan again. Buck can't hide his smile at all. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he goes back to dinner. Monday can't be here fast enough.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan #pq writes

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multific · 3 days ago

Text

Gifts and Cake

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: Your marriage was arranged but your love for each other was not.

Marrying him was not in your favour.

He took a liking to you at one of your father's parties and now, you were his wife.

Emperor Geta truly showed his other side to you.

While people saw a raging crazy man, he was kind and sweet with you.

An unmerciful ruler, but a kind husband.

He always made sure you had everything you wanted.

And as your birthday approached, he came to you during the day.

Bursting into the room you currently sat, reading and eating fruit.

"Tomorrow is your birthday, My Darling Wife, I wish to know what it is that your heart desires?" his question was so sudden you froze for a moment.

"I believe I have everything because I have you, My Husband. But I do know you and you mean gifts, I simply wish for cake, you know my love for sweets and if it's not too much a new pet." you ended up saying.

"A pet? What kind? A tiger or lion perhaps?"

"No, nothing like that, I simply wish for a healthy kitten."

"A kitten. Why a cat if I may I ask?" you watched as his face filled with confusion.

"I adore them, and I wish for a small companion to be with me when you can't." His eyes lit up at your words and a smile spread on his lips..

"My Sweet Darling!" he kissed your hand before darting out of the room you smiled at his actions.

He left just as he arrived.

—-

The next morning came, you woke up to your husband missing from his side of your bed, but soon, he entered with servants.

All carried presents for you.

"My Love! This day is special, we celebrate your birth after all! To show my love for you, these are all presents from me."

"Thank you!" you smiled as the servants placed all gifts around you and left, leaving you and your husband who eagerly watched you and waited for your reaction.

You began with a smaller box, it had a beautiful new ring inside.

"To match my own." Geta spoke up and you looked at him, seeing his hand you noticed the same ring on his pinky.

"I really like it. Thank you."

You looked at all the presents which included a lot of different jewellery, dresses and sweet things.

"I really liked everything, Geta. Thank you." you smiled as he waved a finger at you.

"Not everything. Of course, we will hold a party tonight, there will be cake as I promised and I still have one gift for you."

The entire day went by pretty usual.

During the evening as promised, there was a party held in your honour.

You had so many sweets and enjoyed the songs. Your husband was there as you laughed and enjoyed yourself.

Caracalla was another pleasant surprise with his lovely gift. He arranged for you and Geta a lovely bath in a popular bathhouse.

But most importantly, your husband finally gave you your last gift.

"As promised, My Empress, your new pet. Name him as you please." a beautiful white kitten sat in Geta's arms. Such a small and gentle being.

You stood up from your seat and your husband handed you the kitten.

"Thank you, My Love. I'm very happy. Today has been the happiest." you said with a smile and a kiss to your husband's lips.

"It is only the beginning, we still have much wine to drink and we will head to our chambers." he whispered the last part into your ears, and you smiled at him once more.

"I truly love you, Geta."

"And I love you, My Empress."

You sealed your love with a kiss.

Taglist:

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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uniqueblizzardballoon · 7 hours ago

Text

Would you help me share mine as well

Hello my name is Augustine kayemba a Ugandan gay man aged 32 I fled Uganda to kenya and UNHCR took me to kakuma refugee camp in the north western turkana region fleeing homophobia and discrimination due to my sexual preferences that it’s a crime to be gay in Uganda.

It was 2019 that I fled my home country and while at kakuma camp I met with other lgbt 🏳️‍🌈 refugees who also fled from both Uganda and other East African countries.

It was very difficult to stay in the camp due to horrible conditions upon queer refugees we had to go through daily harsh conditions including death of our colleagues by homophobic refugees plus local natives called the turkana people plus police brutality.

Last year in December on 19th after the Kenyan government refused to expedite our cases we had no option than to flee to South Sudan were we are now about 350men,women plus kids all starving with food scarcity plus medicine and shelters.

I would really appreciate your intervention into our situation if at all you can,as you know we barely have food at camp yet within us we have mates with hiv positive statuses and they luck a lot plus kids who luck milk,I recently mate a friend who set us a fundraising page and would be glad if you can read about our situation through that page in my bio to see if you can help share it or donate something to our cause

Lastly if at all you have any other social media platforms such as instagram or WhatsApp where we can talk on a video call so that you could meet my other representatives that would mean a lot to me.

Thanks for accepting me to briefly share with you about our experience and happy to hear from you soon again.

You can help us via our fundraising page below

https://gofund.me/c8bbbb9e

Or you can find me on WhatsApp+211929144798

Thanks again yours Augustine kayemba queer refugee from gorom refugee camp south Sudan

Here's a website where Palestine GoFundMes are vetted and shared that you can send out to people. The url is gazafunds.com

Easy to use and simple. Just share the site whenever someone asks for GFMs for Palestine.

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amirasainz · 1 day ago

Note

I have a request for Lando Norris x Sister!reader where she gets cheated on. Please🫶🏻 I love your writing

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Big Brother to the Rescue

The paddock was buzzing with activity, fans cheering and cameras clicking as drivers moved between interviews and meetings. It was a typical race weekend—hectic, thrilling, and intense. But for Yn, none of it seemed to matter.

She walked beside Lando, her older brother, keeping her head down. Normally, she loved being at the Grand Prix. She’d tease Lando about his starts, laugh at his banter with the other drivers, and soak in the high-energy atmosphere. But today, her heart felt heavy.

Lando, always in tune with her moods, glanced down at her and frowned. “You’re too quiet,” he said as they reached the McLaren hospitality area. “This isn’t like you. What’s wrong?”

Yn sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

That was all it took for Lando’s protective instincts to kick in. “Oh, you’re definitely talking about it. Did something happen? Who do I need to fight?”

Yn couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at his immediate leap to violence. “It’s nothing. Just...my boyfriend cheated on me.”

Lando froze mid-step. He turned to her, his expression shifting from shock to anger. “He what?”

“Cheated,” Yn repeated, her voice cracking slightly. “With some girl he met at a party. I found out yesterday.”

Lando clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. “That absolute—” He cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “Okay. First of all, you don’t deserve that. Second, I’m going to make sure you’re okay. And third, if I ever see him, he’s toast.”

Yn smiled faintly at his overprotective tone. “Thanks, Lan. But I don’t think anything can cheer me up right now.”

Lando wasn’t having it. “Challenge accepted.”

---

Throughout the morning, Lando hovered around her like a mother hen. He brought her tea, her favorite snacks, and even a McLaren hoodie to keep her warm. The other drivers began to notice.

“Why is Yn so quiet today?” Carlos asked, walking over to where she sat with her tea. “You’re usually giving Lando a hard time.”

“She’s going through something,” Lando replied, his tone making it clear the topic was off-limits. He wrapped an arm around Yn’s shoulders and pulled her closer. “But don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. He ruffled Yn’s hair affectionately before heading off.

A little while later, Charles and Pierre stopped by. “Yn, you’re not smiling,” Charles said, crouching down to her eye level. “That’s illegal. Lando, what have you done?”

“For once, it’s not my fault,” Lando said, rolling his eyes. “She’s just—she’s sad. Leave her alone.”

Pierre, never one to resist a joke, smirked. “Do you need us to scare someone off? We’re good at that.”

“I can scare people off just fine,” Lando said firmly. “Thanks.”

Yn managed a small laugh, which made Charles and Pierre exchange victorious looks.

---

Later, when Ollie came by, he took one look at Yn and immediately tried to lighten the mood. “I’ve got an idea,” he announced, sitting down beside her. “What if I became your new boyfriend? I’d treat you like a queen.”

Yn laughed for the first time all day, the sound catching Lando’s attention from across the room. He walked over, arms crossed.

“Really, Ollie?” Lando said, glaring at his friend. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“What?” Ollie said, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying, I’d be an upgrade.”

Yn shook her head, still giggling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous, but effective,” Ollie said, winking at her.

Lando wasn’t amused. “Stick to racing, mate.”

Ollie shrugged and walked off, leaving Yn smiling. “He’s an idiot,” she said, leaning her head on Lando’s shoulder.

“True,” Lando agreed. “But if it made you laugh, I’ll allow it.”

---

As the day wore on, Lando continued to dote on Yn. He handed her tissues when she teared up, reminded her to drink water, and even skipped a strategy meeting to sit with her in the quiet corner of the hospitality area.

“You know,” Yn said softly, “you’re a really good brother.”

“Obviously,” Lando replied with a smirk. “But thanks. And for real, Yn, don’t let that guy make you feel like you’re not enough. He’s the idiot, not you.”

Yn sniffled and smiled up at him. “You’re the best.”

“Duh,” Lando said, pulling her into a hug. “Now, what do you say we watch the race together? I’ll dedicate my first overtake to you.”

Yn laughed, feeling lighter than she had all day. “Deal.”

By the time the sun set over the paddock, Yn was back to herself, and it was all thanks to Lando—her overprotective, slightly annoying, but always reliable big brother.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x sister!reader #lando norris x y/n #norris!reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #pierre gasly x reader #ollie bearman x reader #oliver bearman x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋

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spicybutterfly · 3 days ago

Text

Please Don't Eat Me!

What do you do when your longtime boyfriend turns into a werewolf right in front of you? Take off running of course!

❥ Pairing: werewolf!Jungkook x girlfriend!Reader ❥ Genre: fluff, angst, smut ❥ AUs: werewolf!au, college!au, established relationship!au ❥ Rating: M (18+) ❥ Word Count: 12.3k ❥ Warning/Tags: heavy angst, explicit language, explicit smut (way more than I intended), bratty reader, soft dom Jungkook, whiny Jungkook, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), fingering, male masturbation, missionary, riding, creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation ❥ A/N: This was supposed to be posted on Halloween…oops. ;)

*Disclaimer all characters and events portrayed in my works are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.*

Thank you for reading!♡

The unexpected shrill chiming of your doorbell made you jump where you stood. Startled, you dropped the tube of a pretty pink lip gloss you’d just finished applying. It hit the tile floor beneath you with a firm smack before rolling away underneath the counter.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself, bending down as far as you could to feel the floor for your lipgloss tube. Your black, skin-tight shorts didn’t allow for much movement. Neither did your long-sleeve, baby-blue top.

“A-ha!” You cheered victoriously as your fingers grazed the plastic tube. Thankfully the cap was already twisted closed, so there wasn’t a sticky mess everywhere. Swiftly, you grabbed the lipgloss.

Just as you were standing back up into your previous position you felt two large hands work their way into the waistband of your shorts pulling you flush against a solid, muscled chest. You shrieked, jumping again, this time in excitement. Instantly, you recognized that firm chest anywhere.

You watched through the mirror as Jungkook began to stamp feather-light kisses along the side of your neck, nosing at your skin in between. Goosebumps bloomed all over your body from the ticklish gesture. He finished off his task with a big wet kiss on the apple of your cheek.

No one would expect such soft gestures from your boyish boyfriend. Standing at nearly six feet tall, routinely dressed in all black, with a sleeve of tattoos and both ears adorned in piercings; Jungkook was the epitome of hardcore. That is on the outside at least.

No one was a bigger softie than your boyfriend. Your favorite nickname for him was ‘Koo’ for a reason. He was your big sensitive baby.

You loved how he was never ashamed to show how much he loved you. He wasn’t the type to shy away from affection no matter where you were or who was around. There was no such thing as personal space when you were with Jungkook.

“Koo,” you whined, doing your best to not mess up your makeup as you wiped away the wetness on your cheek.

A mock gasp left your boyfriend's lips. He frowned, pulling his hands from your shorts to wrap his arms around your middle. “I thought you loved my kisses.”

After putting down the tissue in your hands, you turned to face him. Leaning up on your tiptoes, you pecked away the pout on his lips. “I do love your kisses,” you grinned at his dissatisfied face. “Just not when they’re gross and wet.”

His big doe eyes stared at you with a gaze so intense it had your body radiating with warmth. You remember when you first started dating you could barely even look at him. But not anymore. Gone were the days when you shied away from him, too timid and inexperienced to return his gaze. Instead, you peered right back at him, hoping he could feel the same love and yearning you had for him as he did you.

“Hey,” he breathed, his big brown eyes drinking you in. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

It has been a few days since the last time you’ve seen your boyfriend. To many that would seem like nothing, but to you, it felt like an eternity.

Since you two had started dating, being away from each other was an uncommon occurrence.

You two had met through extraordinary circumstances. To make a long story short, he hit you in the face with a volleyball during gym class. You’d sustained a nasty nosebleed as a result.

He was nearly in tears as he babbled out a flurry of apologies to you, but all you could focus on was how his muscles flexed underneath his gym shirt. You’d promised to forgive him if he’d carry you to the nurse’s office, and take you out for bubble tea after school. You’ve been inseparable since.

With your nails, you scratched lightly at the nape of his neck - his favorite spot. Jungkook hummed in response, relishing in the feeling. You felt his arms unravel from around your middle, his hands making their way towards your hips. Effortlessly he lifted you from the ground, placing you on the bathroom counter behind you. You yelped as your skin made contact with the cold granite. Jungkook didn’t even give you a second to react before he fit his body between your legs, leaning down and slotting his lips together with yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, as you let yourself sink into the feeling.

Before Jungkook, kissing was always a subpar experience for you. You wouldn’t say you hated it, but it was certainly not your favorite. You don’t miss the icky feeling of having a wet tongue unexpectedly shoved down your throat, your breasts roughly fondled (you’ve always had sensitive nipples), or your lips bitten to the point where blood was drawn. Like during a game of Spin the Bottle in seventh grade when your neighbor, Tony bit your bottom lip so hard it was bruised for the next two weeks. No one wanted to sit next to you at lunch. Damn you, Tony.

The buildup that came from kissing Jungkook was your favorite. There was just something so intimate about the way he always took his time with you. Like a dessert that needed to be savored because you just couldn’t get enough of it.

Today though was different. Today he was fervent.

Your hand traveled from his neck to his hair, your fingers gently tugging at the dark brown locks. Jungkook moaned into the kiss, pulling you closer so that your fronts were pressed together. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you pulled him in closer until you could feel the thickness of his bulge against your core. Your slick panties stuck uncomfortably to your sensitive skin.

Your mouth opened in a sigh at the feeling of his thick bulge nestled against your heat. Jungkook used this opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips. You welcomed him instantly as the wet muscle caressed your own, begging for any sort of attention. Playing along with him, they embraced each other, dancing together in a routine that was all too familiar to the both of you.

Pulling away with a gasp, you gulped down a few deep breaths of air. Gently you pushed your needy boyfriend away by his chest as he tried to chase your lips. His eyes were focused but somehow also dazed. As if in a trance, he attached his lips to your sweet spot between your ear and shoulder.

“Koo,” you whined, your hands gripping the front of his button-down shirt. The cotton fabric bunched in your palms. You jerked as he began to mouth at the smooth skin. Your breath quickened as his teeth raked over the sensitive area. God how you wanted him to just pull his dick out and have his way with you right here. Unfortunately though, you already made a commitment to be somewhere and you’d be damned if the world didn't get to see how good you looked in this costume.

“Baby we can't,” you gasped. “We’re already late.” You doubt Jungkook heard a single word you said. Instead, he took the time to languidly suck your skin into his mouth. With your eyes rolling back, your mouth gaped open around a silent moan. The thumping between your legs was too insistent to ignore. You squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to ease some of the pressure.

After a minute Jungkook pulled away, finally satisfied with his work. His lips were slightly swollen from his ministrations. Out of breath, you slumped against the mirror behind you with a thump. The new bruise forming on your neck was tender in the best way.

“There,” he whispered breathlessly. “Now we’re ready to leave.”

──•◦❥•◦──

Why the hell hadn’t you worn a jacket? Or even a cardigan at least. The thin material of your top did nothing to shield you from the nippy October weather. You cursed yourself for not grabbing something to put on your arms.

After being dropped off by your Uber, you and Jungkook decided to wait outside for your friends to arrive. They were supposed to only be a few minutes behind you, but obviously, that wasn’t the case because you’d been standing out in the cold for nearly fifteen minutes. God only knows what the hell they were getting into.

Gripping Jungkook's arm, you shivered as another gush of wind rushed through. Your boyfriend leaned down to kiss the top of your forehead. “Cold?”

You nodded, nestling up into his warm body. He gladly accepted you, wrapping his arms around your body. Instantly, you melted into his warmth. “Freezing,” you corrected, the chattering of your teeth subsiding. “Baby, let's just wait for them inside. Who knows how long it’s gonna take for them to get here.”

“Hobi just texted, he said they’re about two minutes away.”

You rolled your eyes. “I guess I’ll just suffer.”

Jungkook’s body shook as he laughed above you. “It’s not so bad. At least you’ve got your own personal space heater.” You smiled, leaning your head down to rest against his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat eased your nerves. Honestly, if you were sitting down you could probably fall asleep, which was a cherished rarity these days. After taking a gap year, you forgot about how taxing the school workload could be. A healthy work, home, and school life balance was nonexistent to you.

Frowning, something dawned on you. You peered up at Jungkook. He stood unaffected to the cold, watching as his fellow peers stumbled out of their cars towards the house. You flinched at the presence of another chilly breeze. Jungkook didn’t move an inch.

“How are you not cold?”

Looking down at his phone, Jungkook typed something out before pocketing the device. He shrugged. “I’m wearing pants.”

“But you’re wearing short sleeves.” Jungkook watched as an orange maple tree leaf fell gracefully before you. It joined a pile of fallen leaves undisturbed on the ground. “I’m also wearing socks.”

You sputtered. “Wha- Jungkook, that doesn't even make any sen-.” Just then a loud beep of a car horn interrupted you. You let out a shriek as you jumped, snapping your head towards the obnoxious sound. You were ready to flip them off before you saw the driver behind the wheel.

Your annoyance melted away at the sight of Hoseok’s impish grin. In the passenger’s seat was Lila, your best friend, and Hoseok’s girlfriends. She had her arm sticking out of the window, beaming as she waved at you. As soon as they parked you both made your way towards them.

“Hii,” Lila squealed, trotting towards you. With your arms wide open, you captured her in a hug, both of you squeezing tight.

“What took you so long”, you pouted, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I was dying out here.”

“I’m sorry,” she winced, pulling down her purple mini-dress. “I swear we were on the way, but then Hobi lost the ascot for his costume so we had to improvise. Speaking of,” she smiled as she did a 360 spin. She stopped with one hand on her hip and the other flinging a chunk of orange hair over her shoulder.

“What do you think? Do I look like Daphne?”

Your best friend was already gorgeous, but she looked stunning in her getup. Her usual long jet-black hair was now a muted orange. You assumed it to be a wig because it wasn’t that color when you two were on Facetime a couple of hours ago. There was a purple headband tucked neatly at the top of her head. The mini dress she was sporting did wonders for her modelesque physique. You always told her she could be a Victoria Secret’s angel.

“You look so hot!”

Smiling, she struck a pose, pointing the toe of her purple platform heel. “Thank you! You don’t look too bad yourself Officer Judy Hoops,” she smirked.

You waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, this old thing?” Turning around, you wiggled your hips from side to side, making the cute little bunny tail shake behind you. “Found it in my closet.”

“Those too?” Smiling, she bit her bottom lip pointing towards Jungkook. He stood a few feet away conversing with Hobi. You assumed she was talking about the fox ears perched on his head. His costume was simple yet so effective. Who knew a green button-down shirt and a pair of khaki pants would make you want to drop your panties at any moment? You didn’t have a furry kink (that you were aware of) but damn he was the hottest Nick Wilde you’d ever seen.

“We borrowed those from my mom.”

Laughing, your friend shook her head. “How the hell did you get them to wear those? It took until today for Hobi to agree to Fred.” She pouted, “Your boyfriend is better than mine.”

You would never say this out loud but you agree. Not that you have anything against Hobi. He was one of your closest friends and you loved him dearly but your boyfriend was just better (this was completely unbiased of course).

You rubbed your hands up and down your chilled arms. “It took a lot of convincing for him to dress up with me,” you lied through your teeth.

“Oh please,” your friend waved a dismissive hand. You have that boy wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything you asked.”

“Good,” you smirked. “That’s how I like 'em.” You were only joking though. The whole town knew you were just as whipped for Jungkook as he was for you.

You shivered at the feeling of a swift passing breeze. “Please let’s go inside, I'm freezing.”

“Agreed,” she asserted. “Plus I can’t wait to see what their kitchen looks like. I heard they have marble countertops!” With your eyebrows raised you nodded, unable to contain the corners of your mouth curving upwards. You didn’t really care about the kitchen, you just needed to get out of this cold and into some heat.

You both made your way over to where the boys were standing. Lila greeted her boyfriend with a kiss on the cheek. Her pink lipgloss left a shiny stain on his skin. He smiled down at her, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

“Hobi, why don’t you love me as much as Jungkook loves _____,” she pouted. His eyes widened as his mouth dropped open.

“Huh?!”

You slipped yourself underneath your boyfriend’s arms, instantly engulfed once again by his warmth. “Ready,” he asked, his warm breath tickling the apple of your cheek.

You hummed, “If we’re out here any longer I think my nipples are gonna turn into ice cubes.”

Jungkook smirked. “We can’t have that now can we?” His thumb traced soft circles onto the exposed skin between your shirt and shorts. Languidly, you shook your head, peeking up at him. “Maybe you could find a way to warm them up?”

You blamed your horniness on Jungkook, he just had that effect on you.

He licked his lip. “I’m sure I could find a way.”

“Alright people,” Hobi called, breaking you out of your little moment. “ Let’s get fucked up!!”

──•◦❥•◦──

“Not so fast, baby.” Your boyfriend gently pried the purple-tinted shot glass away from your eager lips.

“You're going to make yourself sick,” he chided, bringing a delicate thumb to wipe away the ticklish trail of vodka dribbling down the side of your chin.

You swallowed down the rest of the clear liquid, accepting the familiar burn that followed. Immediately your face scrunched up in distaste. Though vodka was your drink of choice you’d never get used to that burning taste.

Jungkook placed the glass on a nearby table. He chuckled at your grimace, leaning down to brush a kiss on the tip of your nose. “That’s what you get,” he grinned. “Where’d you even get that from?”

“Lila,” you sang, licking away any remnants of alcohol on your lips.

“Figures.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you lightly pushed at his shoulder. “Whatever,” you muttered, swinging your body to the beat of the song. The floors beneath you vibrated with how hard the bass blared through the speakers. The playlist they had going wasn’t really your cup of tea. It reminded you of something they’d play in at a Renaissance Fair. You hadn’t recognized a single song in the couple hours you’d been here. But that didn’t bother you, you were raised in a household that could get down to anything.

Swaying your hips from side to side, you gripped the tie around your boyfriend’s neck. Your vision was slightly fuzzy around the edges, no doubt from the several shots and one full drink you’d inhaled once you’d arrived.

“Dance with me?” You purred before taking a step towards your boyfriend. You stumbled, seemingly tripping over an imaginary object, nearly falling face-first to the ground.

“Woah,” Jungkook grasped your hips, steadying your involuntarily swaying body. Your fingers grasped his arms tightly. In your chest, your heart thumped as they made contact with the veins in his arm. God, he was so hot.

“I think that’s enough for you for tonight.”

Your eyes widened, slightly glassy. “But m’ not even drunk!”

He hummed unconvinced. “Yeah, but it won’t take you long to get there.” Jungkook pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the notification on the screen. “We have to leave soon anyway. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

A frown adorned your features before your tipsy mind could even think of stopping it. “You do?” This was news to you. “Where are you going?”

He avoided your eyes, opting to stare at the bunny ears perched on top of your head. He shrugged. “Somewhere. It’s no biggie.”

“Can I come too?” You hated how needy you sounded. You weren’t a clingy girlfriend at all. If anything, Jungkook was the clingy one. It's just for the past few weeks you’ve barely spent any time together and whatever time you did spend as a couple you were the one to initiate it. Just like tonight. Getting him to wear matching costumes might not have taken a lot of convincing sure, but getting him to come to this party did. He really put up a fight to not come here with you, only finally agreeing when you mentioned you would come with one of your guy friends. Possessive little shit.

Jungkook reached out a hand to caress your chin. “Not this time, baby. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “No, it's fine,” you assured, fingering the blue tie resting against his chest. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes. “We can leave now if you're ready. I think I’ve had enough for tonight.” Your gaze remained downcast as you swallowed away the lump in your throat. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was frowning.

“You sure, baby? We can stay a little longer. I know you really wanted t-.” Before he could finish you shook your head once more, pushing his hand away from your face.

“I’m kinda tired anyway.”

You knew you didn't believe you. He damn near knows you better than you know yourself. You just weren’t in the mood for another argument. Lately, it seems as if that’s all you two ever did. Flirt, argue, fuck, argue some more, fuck again, and then right back to flirting.

You pulled your hands away from him. “Let me just say bye to Lila.” You didn’t wait for him to respond, instead, you left him standing there in search of your friend.

Begrudgingly, you made your way through the sea of sweaty bodies, scanning the crowd for anyone sporting a purple mini-dress. Smoke emerging from the hidden fog machine made it difficult to see clearly. The tipsy crowd surrounding you cheered, as the intro of a familiar song began to play. ‘Listen to this track bitch!’ Of course they’d play the good music when you’re about to leave.

Your journey was halted by a tall, burly body dressed in a football uniform stepping in front of you. You jerked, taking a step back to allow space between you two. The urge to roll your eyes consumed your whole being as soon as you recognized who it was.

Elijah stood before you, with a cold beer clasped in his right hand. The arrogant asshole didn’t even bother to put on a proper costume.

He yelled your name, grinning widely. You didn’t have time to react before he was wrapping himself around you in a one-sided hug. You cringed at the feeling of his sweaty body pressed against yours. His left hand rested dangerously low on your lower back. You pushed him away with a hand on his chest, separating yourself from him.

“Hey, I didn’t know you would be here!” That was a lie. He’d heard you and Lila talking about attending this party earlier today in class. He’d even expressed how he’d be coming too, even though no one asked.

“I could’ve sworn you heard me say I was coming earlier.” Your mind wasn’t sober enough to care about sparing his feelings especially since he just wouldn’t take a hint. I mean, how many times do you have to reject someone for them to understand?

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I forgot.” You nodded, unamused. “Anyway, I’m glad to see you.”

You couldn’t say the same.

“Like my costume?” He flexed his biceps, the muscle jumping at the action. There wasn’t a stirring in your belly like your boyfriend did it. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect. “Your football uniform doesn’t count as a costume.”

“Ehh, the ladies love it, so who cares.” What ladies was he referring to? You would never know.

He tilted his head towards a group of people dancing, or as your grandmother would say, gyrating in the living room. “Wanna dance with me?” He shimmed from side to side, biting his bottom lip. You couldn’t decide if he was in pain or if he was trying to be sexy. You’d had enough of this conversation.

“Elijah, I have a boyfriend. You do know that, right?”

He nodded, shrugging his shoulders. “What, your boyfriend doesn’t let you have friends?” You scuffed. What a played-out line.

“I have to go,” you deadpanned, moving around him. “So, I’ll see you later,” you heard him call behind you.

You didn’t bother to turn around. “You won’t!”

If you were in a bad mood before, you were certainly in an even worse one now. The audacity of him! When would he get it through his thick skull that you did not like him?! He better be thankful that you wouldn’t allow your boyfriend to beat him up. He’s been itching to do that ever since he found out about Elijah’s persistent crush on you.

You weren’t surprised to find your bestfriend in the kitchen. The culinary student always seemed to wind up there whenever you were at some sort of event hosted at a house.

She stood at the counter, swaying he hips to the beat of the song as she made another biter-tasting drink. Because her back was facing the doorway she didn’t see you come in.

“Lila.”

“Hey,” she chirped, turning around. “You ready for an-,”. At the first sight of your facial expression she frowned, putting down the red solo cup and a bottle of Tequila. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re leaving,” you rubbed your lips against each other. The motion was a bit dull as most of your lipgloss has either dried up or been licked away. “Apparently Jungkook has somewhere to be.”

Lila frowned, her eyebrows nearly touching. She tapped her phone awake. “At 2:30 in the morning?” You didn’t respond. “ _____, that’s sketchy.”

“I know.” Your voice shook as you tried to explain. Maybe you were more drunk than you thought.

“And he won’t even,” you took in a deep quivering breath. “He won’t even tell me where he’s going.” You blinked up at the ceiling, attempting to keep your tears at bay. “He always does this to me. Everything will be good and then out of nowhere, he gets distant. Then I don’t hear from him for days.”

Your fingers picked at a stray hair on your sweater. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh honey,” your friend engulfed you in her arms. “How long has he been doing this?”

You pulled away, wiping away the tears you didn’t realize were now flowing from the corners of your eyes. “Since we’ve been dating.”

Your friend gasped at your admission. “_____, it’s been three years!”

“I know!” Bringing both hands up to cover your face you groaned aloud. Certainly, no one could hear you with how loud the music was.

How ridiculous this whole situation must seem- crying over your boyfriend in a stranger’s kitchen dressed as a police officer bunny with Kendrick Lamar blaring over the speakers all while barely sober enough to stand. Gotta love being in your early twenties.

“So then he needs to fucking explain himself! Or at least tell you where he’s going.”

“I-,” Before you could finish your phone vibrated from your back pocket. Pulling it out you down at the device. You couldn’t refrain from rolling your eyes at the contact name on the screen. “I should probably go.” You turned the phone around, showing your friend the screen of Jungkook calling you.

She scuffed as you shoved your phone back into your pocket. Lila pulled you into another hug. “Please keep me updated. Don’t let him walk all over you like this. You need to stand up for yourself.”

Oh trust, this was definitely going to be addressed and it would most likely lead to another stupid argument.

You found Jungkook standing exactly where you left him. His jaw was clenched, both hands resting in his pockets. With the way they bulged, you could tell they were clenched into fists. What was his problem?

His eyes were fixed on you the entire time, never looking away. Jungkook exhaled before speaking. “Why do you smell just like him?”

“Huh? Like who?”

“Elijah,” he asserted.

“How do you even know what he smells like?”

“Doesn’t matter. Is that what took you so long?” Wait was he seriously mad at you right now? “Why are you being so rude to me?”

Jungkook didn’t respond. He stuck his hand out for you to take. “We should go. Our Uber is outside.” You didn’t spare him a single glance as you walked right past him towards the front door, him hot on your heels.

──•◦❥•◦──

Thank god this Uber had a functioning heater. You swear you were starting to feel the beginnings of hypothermia biting at your toes. You’d never take a jacket for granted again.

The atmosphere inside of the car was awkward and stuffy. Though not because of the heater or the Uber driver’s questionable taste in podcasts. Without a doubt, he was certainly an attendee of those anti-women’s rights rallies that are always held downtown. A major downside of living in a small, religious town. He wasn’t getting rated five stars.

Neither Jungkook nor you have spoken a word to each other since you left the party. There was nothing left for you to say to him. Jungkook remained firm on not giving you any details about his plans. No matter how much you probed for the answers he remained vague.

So you gave him the silent treatment.

You knew it was juvenile but you couldn't help but feel that maybe he deserved it. After all, why should you respond to anything if he can’t even answer a simple question? Maybe now he would know how it feels to be ignored.

Beside you Jungkook sighed deeply, breaking the awkward momentary silence in the car. You heard him shifting in his seat, his knee brushed against yours as he turned his body towards you. You could feel him staring at the side of your face but you were still too pissed off to even acknowledge him.

He placed his hand on your knee, caressing the exposed skin. “I’m sorry about the way I spoke to you earlier. I was wrong and you didn’t deserve that. I’m also sorry we had to leave early, I promise I’ll make it up to you, baby.”

Whatever. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you continued scrolling through reels on Instagram. You stopped on a video tutorial of how to wax your brows at home. You were long overdue for a maintenance day.

“Are you seriously not going to talk to me?” Silently, you skimmed through the comments.

From the front seat, your driver cleared his throat. You would feel bad for making him uncomfortable in his own car if it wasn’t for the bullshit, misogynistic podcast playing in the background. Just because the volume was low doesn't mean you couldn’t hear it.

You ignored your boyfriend as he called your name. Jungkook scuffed, shaking his head. “Unfuckingbelievable,” he growled.

Your neck nearly snapped with how fast you turned towards him. If Jungkook was a stranger, the look on his face would have scared you. His eyebrows were pulled together into something furious, and the way his lips were downturned almost appeared…painful. You’ve never seen him look so angry before. But you knew your boyfriend and you knew he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on you. So your attitude remained.

“Is there something you need to get off your chest?”

The tension in his brows loosened. Restlessly his tongue probed the inside of his cheek, replacing the frown. The anger in his features was still present, just not as intense as before.

Subconsciously your eyes followed the indentation. Something stirred inside you. You might be furious but you weren’t blind. He looked sexy as hell when he did that.

“You are such a fucking child sometimes,” he hissed. Reaching up, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair, snatching off the fox ears in the process.

You frowned, scuffing. “Excuse me?”

“You know, I am so sick of your shit!” Jungkook's voice rang out within the car. Stunned you gasped. You’ve had arguments before but Jungkook has never talked to you like that. He’s never even raised his voice at you. Where was all of this coming from?

“Throwing a fucking tantrum because I didn’t tell you where I’m going. What, do you need an alert for when I’m taking a shit now too? Would that satisfy you? Newsflash _____, I don’t need to tell you everything about my life. You’re not my fucking mother.”

A heavy silence hung in the air.

The car halted at a red light. The tires screeched loudly at the sudden stop. The both of you jerked forward in the backseat. Instinctively you reached your hand out to prevent your face from smacking into the passenger’s seat in front of you. At the same time, Jungkook's arm shot out across your frame, halting you from moving any further. Your eyes burned with unshed tears. With your phone gripped in your hand, you gnawed at your bottom lip to keep it from wobbling or any unwanted sounds from escaping.

A quick look through the car windows showed you were a short distance away from your house. To your right, you recognized the trail that led into a small densely packed forest. You’d taken this trial countless times before as a shortcut from your house, to the inner city, and back. Only that was in the daytime when it was bright and sunny and there were people out. Now it was ten minutes till three in the morning. You’d seen not one single person out on the streets since you made it back to the outskirts of your town. You were for damn sure there was no one in the forest either.

At least you hoped.

Against your better judgment, you pulled the lock back on the car door before throwing it open.

“Um, ma’am?!” You heard your Uber driver yell as Jungkook called after you right before you slammed the car door shut. Your body was instantly overtaken by the cold again. Why the fuck didn’t you wear a jacket?!

The sound of your shoes smacking against the pavement as you trudged across the quiet street, was booming. You approached the eerie trail with a quickness, hoping Jungkook wouldn’t follow behind you. That hope was quickly diminished however when the slamming of a door and a car speeding off came from behind you. You marched further into the thick forest, following the worn dirt trail. The dull street light at the start of the trail only offered a few meters of illumination. During the day you didn’t need to worry about how you would see as the sun was always out. Now replaced by the moon, darkness loomed over the tall trees and thick shrubbery that bordered the trail.

Crunching leaves filled the silence around you as Jungkook finally caught up with you. “Are you insane? That was so ridiculous?!”

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Jungkook gripped your hand, turning your body to face him. That nasty glare was present on his face again. Your heart skipped a beat.

You snatched your hand away, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

You turned to complete your walk back, but you weren’t done. Your anger was back in full force and you demanded answers. Facing him fully again, you pointed an accusatory finger at him. “How dare you? How dare you fucking speak to me that way, Jungkook?! All because I asked you a question? A question that I as your girlfriend deserve an answer to.”

He chuckled bitterly, rolling his eyes. “Cut the theatrics, _____. I’m over it.” He checked the time on his phone again. “Let’s go. It’s getting late.”

You scuffed, shaking your head. “No, I’m not going anywhere with you.” Was he insane? With the way he was acting, he was lucky you didn’t dump his sorry ass right there.

His jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. Bringing both hands up, he gripped his brown locks so hard you thought he would tear his hair out.

“Why do you have to make things so difficult?” He groaned out bent over at the waist. Jungkook stood up straight again, staring you dead in the eyes. A cold chill ran down your spine. “Let’s. Go. I have somewhere to be.”

“Where?” You were standing toe to toe with him.

“It doesn't matter, we need to go. Now.”

“No!”

“I’m serious, _____ we-.”

“Fuck you Jungkook, I’m not going!” Too focused on being stubborn, you missed the way Jungkook’s body twitched involuntarily. With his eyes closed he sucked in a deep breath. “Baby, you have to g-.” Another twitch. “No! I’m not going until you tell me.”

He called your name again. “Baby, please you need to- you have to-”

“I’m not! Where are y-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You jumped, and your eyes widened in shock. The distant squawk of crows flying away echoed in the background. Stunned, you watched silently as Jungkook collapsed to his knees, panting. Both of his hands gripped the ground in front of him, his knuckles white with how tight he was holding on. You flinch as what sounded like bones snapping filled the chilly air. Piercing groans and gasps of pain escape Jungkook's open mouth. His body twitched and jerked in various directions.

The feeling of your heart hammering in your chest made you feel nauseous. What the fuck was going on?!

With one final gasp of air, he stopped, and you were once more surrounded by that haunting stillness. You wrapped your arms around yourself again. You didn’t even notice the cold anymore.

You took a cautious step towards your panting boyfriend. “Koo,” you called, your voice trembling. You took a few more crunching steps until you were right in front of him. “Baby? Are you okay?”

Slowly he lifted his head, revealing himself to you. You gasped, your breath hitching in your throat. With eyes as wide as saucers, you brought both of your hands up to cover your mouth.

Long, sharp fangs replaced the canine teeth in his upper and lower jaws. His beautiful, brown boba eyes - one of your favorite parts about him- were gone, in its place were piercing deep golden eyes that were locked on you. Thick dark brown fur began penetrating through his skin, covering the rest of his blemish-free face to the rest of his body. Gone was your boyfriend as you knew him, in his place was something inhuman!

In a steady voice, a cross between human and ferocious, he whispered out a gravely, “Run.”

You didn’t have time to think or to even scream in terror. Before your mind could even register you were fleeing down the dirt path towards your house. Your feet pounded the uneven ground beneath you. The light from the streetlight has now completely faded. The only illumination came from above you, the brilliant face of the moon exposed. Jungkook screamed out once more, a thundering shout before it ended in what sounded to you like a wolf’s howl.

The heavy thumping of footsteps picked up from behind you. What sounded like two eerily turned into four, running at a speed that was inexplicably fast. You heard the beast growl right behind you. It was so hot on your tail that you felt like it could reach out and grab you at any moment. Just up ahead you could see the end of the trail. You could cry in relief.

Your comfort was only short-lived. Before you could take another step forward, the front of your right shoe got caught on a sizable rock. It felt like your world was moving in slow motion as you were totally knocked off balance. Reaching both arms out in front of you, you braced yourself for your inevitable fall. Your body hit the solid ground with a hard smack, your right ankle twisting painfully in the process. You were so close. You were almost free.

Only then did you scream.

Clutching your right ankle, you gasped down deep breaths of air. Sharp pain traveled hotly throughout your body. “Fuck,” you wailed, your vision blurry with tears. The blood rushing in your ears made it hard to hear anything, the world around you almost wholly muffled. The presence of a wolf was unknown to you until you heard it huff out an exhale. The horrifying creature stood at least eight feet tall on all fours. It was covered entirely in thick burnt umber fur. Drool leaked from its opened mouth, like gooey honey oozing off of a honey dipper. Its piercing golden eyes were trained solely on you. The creature slowly made its way towards you.

You gasped, scooting backward on your feet and hands until the pain in your ankle was unbearable. The burning in your lungs was incessant with each breath you sucked down. Before you, the wolf huffed another exhale. He was so close now you could feel its warm breath tickling your face. Its teeth were bared like it was ready to bite. Leaning its head down, his long snout nosed its way between your neck and shoulder. Pushing your head up, it sniffed harshly at your skin. You closed your eyes, just waiting for the moment it decided to attack.

“Plea-se,” you begged, your voice cracking at the end. You heaved as your entire body trembled in fear. “Please don’t- don’t hurt me.”

The wolf leaned away from you. There seemed to be a glint of recognition in his eyes. You had to be losing your mind.

He huffed again, sitting back on his hind legs. You wanted to scream as it released another deafening howl. Then, just like magic, it was gone as if it was never there in the first place.

Your boyfriend sat naked in its place. A look of horror was written all over his face. He brought both hands up to cradle your face. You jumped at the sudden action. For a split second, he looked slightly wounded but then the concern was back.

“Baby! Are you okay?!” Gently his thumbs whipped away the tears staining your cheeks. Each of your hands wrapped around his wrists. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“I’m so sorry! Are you hurt?!” He checked you frantically, looking for any signs of injuries. You were speechless, the only thing you could do was heave breathlessly into the cool open air.

“Baby please,” he pleaded. “Say something, breath!” There was a steady ringing in your ears. Jungkook’s mouth was closing and opening as if he was speaking to you, but you couldn’t hear anything. Everything was silent. The corners of your vision were obscured by an approaching darkness. You blinked rapidly to try and keep yourself alert until it consumed you completely.

──•◦❥•◦──

Drowsily, your eyes blinked open. Your vision was still fuzzy around the edges as you took in your surroundings. The room was dark but familiar. It didn’t take you long to realize that you were inside your bedroom. Somehow you must have made it home. You looked down at yourself. And changed clothes? Except your bra was still on. It was uncomfortably snug on your skin. There was a reason you never slept with a bra on. With ease you unhooked the clasp, placing it on the bed beside you.

You threw the thick blankets and duvet completely off of you, body all too warm now. There was an incessant pounding in your head. Groaning, you brought your hand up to clutch at the aching spot. There was a dull ache in your right ankle.

“Baby,” a delicate voice called from the corner of your room. It was Jungkook. “Are you awake?” Suddenly, the memories of what happened came rushing back to you.

Your boyfriend turned into a fucking werewolf right in front of you and nearly attacked you.

With a hammering heart, you scooted backward until your back came in contact with your headboard. He approached the side of the bed you were on cautiously, sitting down gently in the open space in front of you. His big brown orbs were back but were now swimming with sadness at the sight of you drawing your knees into yourself.

He nibbled at his bottom lip. “There’s some pain reliever and a glass of water on your nightstand.”

A moment passed before you reached for the pill bottle and water. You didn’t take your eyes off of Jungkook the entire time. He looked disheveled. His previously neat hair was a mess like he’d been running his fingers through it constantly. His eyes were glossy and red-rimmed. You doubt he’d gotten any sleep. Gone was his Nick Wilde costume. You assumed it was destroyed during the transformation. He was now sporting a plain black tee and matching sweats.

You didn’t realize how parched you were until you were gulping down the rest of the room-temperature water. A few dribbles of water escaped your lips, trailing down your chin. With the back of your hand, you wiped your mouth, catching your breath. Jungkook took the empty glass from you, placing it back on the nightstand. For a while, the room was still. Neither of you decided to break the silence first. To be honest, you didn’t know what to say.

“Are you afraid of me?”

The immediate short answer was no. There wasn’t anything in this world that could make you afraid of your boyfriend. He was the absolute love of your life. You knew he would never do anything to hurt you intentionally.

You were however afraid of what he was capable of. He was a literal werewolf! If he wanted to he could tear you into pieces. What if he didn’t recognize it was you? What would have happened then? You couldn’t help those questions swimming through your mind. “I don’t know.” His head dropped down as his eyes closed.

It was silent for another moment. “Since when?”

Jungkook shook his head confused. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

You continued. “Since when don’t we tell each other everything?” You swallowed thickly, referring to earlier in the night. You couldn’t help the emotion that trembled through your voice. “Why would you keep this from me, Jungkook? For so long.”

He looked away from you. His eyes danced around the room before he responded. “I don’t know, I just-. I wanted to keep you safe.”

You couldn’t help the fury building inside of you. “You call that keeping me safe! You almost killed me!” Using both of your arms you gestured towards your bedroom window.

“What!”

Jungkook shook his head frantically. “I wasn’t going to hurt you. Baby, I would never! I knew it was you. Please believe me I would never hurt.” His eyes pleaded with yours, begging for you to believe him. And you wanted to so badly, but he’d already hurt you just not physically.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.” He shook his head. “I was trying to leave. I was- I was going to drop you home and then I-I was…” he trailed off looking everywhere except at you.

“You were going to shift,” you finished for him. Wordlessly he nodded.

The room was silent again with the occasional squeak from your ceiling fan. In front of you, Jungkook sighed.

“You know,” you started, your boyfriend looking up at you. “This whole time I thought that I did something wrong.” You scrunched a chunk of your duvet beneath your fingertips. “I just couldn't understand what was wrong. I mean you were so hot and cold with me, it was jarring.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I thought that maybe you were getting tired of me or something…maybe even seeing someone else.” Sighing, you slowly released a breath you weren’t even aware you were holding.

It felt amazing to finally get that off your chest, to finally express how you were truly feeling, and to have him listen.

Your gaze was trained downward. You weren’t looking at anything specifically, you just wanted to avoid his eyes - something you hadn’t done in years.

Jungkook gasped quietly. “_____, I would never,” he pleaded, his eyes borrowing into yours.

Rapidly you nodded your head. “I know,” you sniffled. “I just…I didn’t know what to think. You left me in the dark Jungkook.”

Firmly, he grasped both of your hands in his. “Baby, look at me.” Your gaze remained downcast. He gently squeezed your hands in his, urging you to look at him. “Please.” When your eyes met his, your breath nearly hitched. He was looking at you with a soft longing. The pure adoration for you swimming in his eyes was undeniable. Gone was the anger and frustration. This was your Jungkook.

“I would never-,” he shook his head. “I could never. Baby, you mean everything to me. You are my entire world.” Gently with his thumbs, he wiped away your salty tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I scared you and I’m so sorry if you ever felt I didn’t love you because that is the furthest thing from the truth. You are the love of my life; the best thing that has ever happened to me. I am so infatuated with you that I don’t know how to live without you.”

The tears blurring your vision threatened to spill as you listened to the words of your boyfriend. “Please understand that none of this is your fault. This is all because of me. I failed to communicate with you properly and I’m sorry. _____, I’m sorry.” Jungkook stared at you, desperately waiting for you to respond with something, anything.

You said nothing. Instead, you cradled his face in your hands, bringing his lips to meet yours. You believed him—of course you did—and hoped he could feel everything you wanted to say.

You pulled away with a faint smack. “Is this okay?” you whispered, desperately searching his eyes for an answer. Taking a page from your book, he remained silent, swifty reattaching his lips to yours. His usually pillowy-soft lips were slightly chapped but still felt like heaven against yours. Immediately, all the stress and worries began to wash away.

He responded eagerly to the kiss, scooting closer to you and wrapping his arms around your middle. Effortlessly, he pulled you into his firm lap. Your hands curled into his cotton shirt instinctively.

You pulled your hands from his shirt to tangle one in his hair, the other scratching gently at the nape of his neck. Jungkook sighed against your mouth, his breath tickling your chin. His mouth moved against yours tenderly,

For a moment, you two savored the kiss, basking in each other's warmth and presence. Content sighs and soft moans escaped the both of you filling the air around you.

Your mind was blank and fuzzy; filled with nothing but Jungkook. The way he smelled- clean with a slight hint of cologne, how gently he was kissing you, how much he loved you, the way his body fit perfectly against your own.

The kiss was so innocent, soft, and gentle, yet your panties grew slicker with each second that passed. Beneath you, you could feel that your boyfriend was just as affected. He had been grinding his semi against you for several minutes now, pressing your damp panties into your sensitive, eager bud. It was so delicate, you were sure he had to be doing it subconsciously.

Slowly you pulled away, opening your eyes. As he gazed at you, the dreamy look in his eyes sent pleasant tingles throughout your body. How this boy still managed to give you butterflies after years of being together is beyond you.

“Koo,” you whispered, finger curling around a lock of his luscious hair. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his kiss-swollen lips. Slowly you ran a thumb over his bottom lip as you bit your own.

“Hmm?” His hands continued their journey up and down your sides. Mind still clouded with all things Jungkook, it took a moment for your brain to formulate your thoughts into a coherent sentence.

“I want you.”

His breath hitched as his hands stopped momentarily. You could see his features darken right before you. A glint of mischievousness shone in his eyes. With an arched brow, his hands continued their journey. “Yeah? Are you sure that’s what you want, pretty?”

You shuttered at the nickname. “Please,” you begged, all shame and self-respect now completely thrown out the window. “I want you to fuck me.”

You took his hands into yours, guiding them to your supple breasts. He wasted no time, instantly fondling the squishy mounds in his large palms. You sighed as his thumbs deliberately brushed against your hardened nipples, begging to be released from the confines of your cotton shirt.

You purred, “I need you, baby. Don’t you want me too?”

The look in his eyes was damn near feral. “Always,” he rasped, pinching the stiffened peaks between his thumb and pointer fingers. You gasped, your brows pinching together in pleasure. “I always want you. Fuck, I can never get enough of you.” He pressed his mouth upon yours, pulling you into a searing kiss. Teasingly, he pulled away leaving you to chase after his lips.

“Koo,” you whined, gripping his shirt to reconnect your lips. He tsked, capturing both of your wrists into his grasp.

“Don’t be greedy,” he tutted, leaning down to kiss away the pout on your lips. “I always give you what you need.” He let go of your wrists, and with his other hand, you felt him tug at the bottom of your t-shirt. “Take this off.”

Without a second wasted you peeled the fabric from your body, casually tossing it somewhere beyond your line of sight. With your bare chest now exposed to the cool temperature in your bedroom, goosebumps blossomed all over your skin.

Jungkook leaned down to nose between the valley of your breasts. You giggled as he sniffed at your skin, brushing his hair away from his face “You’re such a weirdo.”

You felt him smile against you. “Can’t help it, literally,” he chuckled inhaling deeply. “Plus you always smell so fucking good.” You hummed, fingers raking through his hair. It must be a part of his wolfie instincts.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he began to pepper kisses all around your breasts, always just missing where you needed him the most. Once he was satisfied with his work, Jungkook finally wrapped his lips around your awaiting nipple. Your mouth dropped open around a moan as your head lulled back. He groaned at the feeling of your hand tightening in his hair. His skilled fingers tweaked your other nipple, ensuring it received the same amount of attention.

“Fuck, Koo,” you shivered, your free hand reaching down to grip his length. He always took such good care of you, you wanted to make him feel good too. Now completely erect, it stood at its full potential, tenting his sweatpants. He was rock hard and so damn thick you couldn’t wrap your hand around him completely. Even through the material of his sweatpants, you could feel the prominent veins running along his shaft. He certainly wasn’t wearing any underwear. Your mouth watered.

Jungkook scowled, just as if he had eaten something delicious, groaning around a mouth full of your breast. He released your nipple with a wet pop. “Feels good baby,” he rasped.

Within the next second your back collided with the plushness of your mattress. You shrieked, hands shooting out to steady yourself.

“Can’t wait to be inside you,” Jungkook smirked from above you. He then pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. Slowly, your eyes raked over your boyfriend, taking a moment to fully appreciate the view before you. You never thought you had a type, but god Jungkook was everything you never knew you needed in a man.

Tiny sporadic beads of sweat gathered along his skin. They looked like diamonds dancing in the moonlight that peeked through your curtains. His body always ran warmer and after the events of tonight, you understand why. His sleeve of tattoos decorated his skin beautifully, a far better accessory than any piece of jewelry could ever be. Concealing a moan behind a bitten lip, you watched as the muscles in his beefy arms jumped as he pulled down his sweatpants, freeing his length. Your pussy fluttered at the sight; it was just as beautiful as the rest of him.

The first time you and Jungkook had sex you were afraid he wouldn’t fit inside of you. He was so long and thick it almost seemed unreal. Though with the proper prep, you were able to take him, and let's just say no one had ever made you cum from just penetration before.

His dick rested on his tummy, standing tall and flushed. He was so hard it almost looked painful. His mushroom tip glistened with pre-cum. You desperately wanted to swallow it all up.

You sat up on your elbows, your own eyes clouded with lust. “May I have a taste?”

You almost moaned aloud as Jungkook gripped his dick in his hand, giving himself two long strokes making sure to flick his wrist at the tip. You caught a glimpse of his beautiful scowl before his head dropped forward, his abs flexing in pleasure.

“Fuck,” you heard him chuckle breathly giving himself one final squeeze. He shook his head. Slowly he lifted his head, his wavy bangs falling over his eyes. Your heart lurched in your chest. He pulled you to the edge of the bed, settling in front of your open legs.

“Me first,” he smirked and you knew you were fucked.

No one in the world could eat pussy like your boyfriend. He was the definition of an eater, always so eager to deliver the most pleasure possible. Sometimes you thought he enjoyed it more than you did.

After delivering one successful orgasm to you with his mouth, he had you teetering on the edge of another.

The echos of his efforts bounced off of the walls around you. He worked his fingers diligently inside of you, alternating between thrusting and scissoring them apart. The soppy sounds flowing from your cunt had you flushed all over. But you were far too close to cumming to be embarrassed. Languidly he swirled his tongue around your clit whilst both of his digits massaged your inner walls thoroughly. Your walls fluttered around his fingers, sending another gush of your arousal to coat his hand. Unshed tears began to gather along your lash line.

“Jungkook,” you mewled wetly, eyes slamming shut as your back arched off of your bed. You licked at your lips, now dry from how hard you breathed through your open mouth. “Koo, baby I’m so close!” Jungkook moaned around you, sending a delicious stream of vibrations through your pussy.

A steady smacking rhythm from below you caught your attention. It sounded wet and sloppy. Was he…? You gasped looking down to confirm your wicked thoughts. Through your blurry vision, you were rewarded with the sight of Jungkook fisting his veiny cock to the same rhythm he was fingering you. With each upward stroke, a trail of pre-cum dribbled from his tip onto his fingers. Oh how bad you wanted them in your mouth.

His tongue laved up slowly through your folds, the wet muscle flicking at your clit gently in the end. “So fucking good,” he muttered against you, almost to himself. Just as he reached down to fondle his balls, he sucked your clit wholly into his mouth.

Your hips canted up, pushing yourself further into the pleasure. Firmly holding you down, he croaked his fingers up, directly massaging the spongy area that had you seeing stars. Still attached to you, Jungkook groaned as your fingers tangled tighter in his hair. He pulled away from your pussy, his reddened lips and chin glistened with your arousal. “That feels good, pretty?”

You nodded rapidly, as your breath hiccuped. “Uh-huhh~! Gonna make me come, baby.”

“Yeah?” His wrist was now snapping against you, fingers curling with precision to repeatedly stroke against your g-spot. “Make a mess for me baby. Show me how beautiful you are when you come.”

There was an incessant pressure building and building in the pit of your stomach. Your mouth dropped open in a silent moan as your face scrunched in pleasure. Your back bowed as Jungkook delivered one last stroke against that spot, so good that it sent you right over the edge. Your walls fluttered around him, sucking his fingers in with a vice grip.

You came with a strangled shout, a slurred mess of what was supposed to be his name as your toes curled in the bedsheets. “Fuck! Koo-uhn!”

But he wasn’t done with you yet. His insatiable hunger couldn’t be sated until you were writhing, gasping for breath underneath him. He wanted you to be so dizzy with pleasure that you couldn’t remember your own name. He wanted to ruin you. He wanted it- no he needed it. He needed it so fucking bad.

Somehow, he sucked at you harder, pushing your hips into the bed. Your body trembled, completely helpless to the overstimulation you were receiving. Inside, his fingers didn’t slow their pace, still plunging into your sopping cunt. His tongue, soaked with his saliva and your essence, rubbed figure eights into your aching clit. You hiccuped out moan after babbled moan, no longer able to properly articulate a single word.

“One more pretty, give me one more. Please? Can you do that for me?” This man was trying to kill you. You were literally being eaten alive by your boyfriend, the irony.

Like ferocious waves crashing onto a sandy beach, your orgasm wracked through you. The air was completely knocked out of your lungs. You were unable to make a single sound, as your mouth fell open. You thought you must’ve looked like a mad woman with your eyes rolled back and your back arched completely off of your bed. Though to Jungkook, you couldn't look more beautiful. With your hair fanned out around, heavy breasts jiggling as you gasped for breath, your skin glimmering from a thin sheen of sweat, the blissed-out expression on your face - you were a sight to be marveled at.

Jungkook didn’t pull away until you were whimpering, pushing at his head, as you feebly scooted away from him. Gulping breaths of air, you slumped onto your mattress, now slightly damp with sweat. Tears leaked from the corner of your eyes as you stared up in a daze at your bedroom ceiling.

Gently, he pulled his fingers from your thumping core, slowly dragging them up through your folds in the process. He popped his fingers into his mouth, his tongue licking away your arousal coated on his digits. With a lewd smacking sound he pulled them from his mouth. He positioned his body over you, fitting himself in between your open legs. You shivered as the head of his dick nudged your pussy.

“Good girl,” he whispered, caressing your thighs down to your butt. “Was that okay? It wasn’t too much was it?” You hummed, still sated from your three succeeding orgasms. “M’ good baby,” you exhaled, your breath starting to even out. “That was amazing.”

Jungkook smiled and your heart fluttered. “Yeah?” He squeezed a handful of your right cheek. Without warning, his hand collided with the fatty meat of your ass, a loud smack resounding in the room. “Love this ass.” You yelped, flinching at the sudden brisk pain. His hand stroked over the sore spot. “You should let me eat that too.” Your eyes widened. You weren’t completely opposed to that idea.

“Mmm, you’re a munch.” Jungkook snorted, leaning over to peck your lips twice. “Only for you though.”

“Damn right.”

You opened your eyes to gaze up at him. He looked at peace. There was a faint trace of a smile on his lips. His orbs were scanning you, drinking you in.

“Still want this dick?”

You nodded, caressing over his chest and neck. Your hand fell as he stood on his knees hovering over your body. You bit your bottom lip as he reached down to squeeze the base of his dick. He huffed, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before reopening.

“Yes, please. I need it, baby. Can’t wait any longer.” You were not too proud to beg. If your boyfriend didn’t get inside of you soon you were going to lose your mind. Future you will certainly cringe at how needy you were being though.

He guided his tip through your dripping core, slowly dragging up and down and then back up again to circle your achy clit.

You hissed as your legs fell open wider. “Are you sure?” with a free hand he pushed away the hair falling over his face. “I would think three orgasms is enough, no?” There was a pleased smirk on his face. He was enjoying this little game of teasing you.

“Koo,” you whined, hooking your legs over his hips to draw him in closer. Your breath hitched as his tip caught on your entrance.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “How can I deny you when you beg so nicely?”

Smoothly he slid into you inch after gratifying inch. He filled you to the brim, the stretch was so good you could come on the spot. Your walls avidly accepted him, sucking him in without much resistance at all. You could feel every thick, prominent vein running along his cock. Your brows pinched together as your head fell back onto your pillow.

“Fuck,” Jungkook drawled out as your warm pussy gripped him tight. “How do you always feel so fucking good, hmm?” Sinful moans rolled freely from his tongue, the heat and wetness of your cunt had his head reeling. He was teetering on the edge of an orgasm without even getting to properly fuck you yet.

You squirmed underneath him, before canting your hips up to grind on his dick. “Jungkook,” you huffed, frustration clear in your voice. He raised his eyebrow, letting you work yourself on his cock for a moment. Without a single word, he slid out of you almost completely, tip barely still snug in your walls. You almost complained at the absence of him until he slid back into your pussy filling you deeper than before. You could cry in relief.

“Fuck,” you yelped, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to before they settled on his shoulders.

“My greedy baby,” he purred, voice dripping with lust. He gave you two more long strokes. You gasped into the open air. “You just needed to be fucked right? All you needed was this dick?” You nodded, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “I need it, baby please.”

“Don’t worry pretty,” his smirk was sinful, almost devilish. “I’ll give you what you want.” The two of you fell into a heated, frantic rhythm, incredibly desperate to feel one another. The wet smacking sounds of your bodies colliding could only be described as sonorous. Above you, you watched as Jungkook worked his hips into you expertly, never failing to hit every sensitive spot you didn’t even know existed inside you. You were so worked up, that you knew it wouldn’t take long for you to reach your peak again.

Tiny beads of sweat were beginning to run down the sides of his face from his excursion. His scowl was present again, mouth wide open to allow unabashed moans to fall freely from his lips. He always moaned so sweetly.

He hit you at an angle so deep, that you both moaned in response. “Uhn, Koo! Love the way you fuck me, baby,” you trembled in his hold.

“I love it more baby,” he grunted, grinding his hips into yours.

Grabbing your hand into his, he brought it up to his lips to kiss the back of it. Halting his movements for a brief second, he leaned down to capture your lips between his, drawing you into a filthy kiss. His hips picked up again as your lips slid against each other, panting into each other’s mouths rather than kissing. When he pulled away there was a string of saliva connecting you both.

He gasped, closing his eyes at the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him. “I love you so much, baby. God, I can’t get enough of you.” Your heart swelled in your chest. How could he still be so sweet while pounding you into oblivion?

“I love you too baby,” you gasped. “Love you so fucking much!”

“M’ not gonna last,” Jungkook whined, fingers digging into your hips. You weren’t surprised, while you were three orgasms in Jungkook hadn’t relieved himself once.

He positioned your legs over his shoulders being careful of your ankle, driving his cock into you deeper. His heavy balls slapped lewdly against your ass. You yelped, your breath hitching as the thick head brushed over your g-spot. “Fu-Koo! Right there!”

He swiveled his hips, his cock rubbing over the spongy area, that had shivers running down your spine. You could feel your arousal leaking from where you were connected, trailing down your ass. It gathered into a filthy pool of sweat and arousal beneath you. There was no saving these bedsheets.

“Want you to come again, pretty. Need to see you come again.” You were so sensitive- too sensitive, you weren’t sure you could even come again. But you wanted to so badly, you wanted to be good for Jungkook.

Jungkook licked the pad of his thumb, and brought it down between your bodies, rubbing figure eight into your bundle of nerves. You were so wet it slipped a couple of times before he could get into a perfect rhythm. He was now snapping into at a pace so maddening you could barely breathe. That heavy tension in the pit of your tummy returned building and building as he fucked you quicker and deeper. Your eyes began to burn with unshed tears.

“Baby, m’ so close! Gon-ah! Gonna come,” your words slurred together.

Jungkook chuckled huskily above you, his breath hitting your face at the same pace he was fucking you. “So damn pretty. Come for me again baby.” He turned his neck to peck kisses into your sweaty calf. “Cream all over this dick.”

It didn’t take much for you to come again, just a gentle brush of fingertips across your nipples had you reeling. Your back arched as you froze, your vision blurring. There was a loud ringing in your ears. A gush of release rushed out of you once, twice, and then a third time. It felt euphoric.

You screamed, your spent walls spasming around your boyfriend. “Fuck Jungkook, fuck!” You collapsed onto your bed; your bones feeling like jell-o. You laid there motionless as the ringing subsided in your ears.

Jungkook groaned from above you. “Look at that, baby.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Still blissed out, you struggled to open your eyes. Finally looking down at what your boyfriend was referring to you gasped. There was a sizeable wet stain on your mattress, right under your ass. Your thighs and Jungkook's groin were also wet. Too wet to be sweat.

He smirked, “You made a mess.”

You felt yourself flush, unable to respond. Your mouth opened and closed, and then opened again in search of a response.

Jungkook chuckled above you, snatching you up in his arms. “You’re so damn hot,” he growled, sitting you on his cock. You winced slightly, overstimulation running through you. Sensitive but still good.

Fervently, he thrusted up into you, trapping you within his hold. You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning your head down onto his shoulder. The damp skin was salty as you scraped your teeth across the area, your fingers tangled in his hair. Jungkook shivered as he grounded his hips into yours. He panted wetly beside your ear, airy moans and whines trembling out of his mouth. He was so, so close.

You were too exhausted to say anything, instead stamping wet kisses across his neck to his throat, letting him have his way with you.

Still sensitive from your intense orgasm, your pussy clenched tight. “Ah!” He cried out, bouncing you harder on his dick to meet his thrusts.

“Are you close, Koo,” you purred, biting his earlobe while your nails grazed his neck.

He cried out as his eyes shut. “Pussy’s too fucking good.”

“Cum for me baby. Want it inside me.” You clenched your hand in his hair, pulling his locks, forcing his head back.

He gripped you tighter, thrusting deep. A broken wail of your name tumbles from his lips as he cums. You swear you could feel him swell inside you. He whines high in your ear as thick ropes of his semi-transparent seed paint your walls. You hum detaching yourself from his throat. He now sported a mark matching your own. Leaning down, you slotted your lips together with his, kissing him slow and deep.

──•◦❥•◦──

Encased in your boyfriend’s arms, you felt warm in all the best ways. After fucking the daylights out of you, you cleaned off together, washing away all the vulgarity of your previous activities. Though Jungkook did most of the work as you were so drained you could barely stand up.

When you finally tumbled into bed, all clean and comfortable, Jungkook entertained any questions you had about his ability. No matter how ridiculous or nonsensical they seemed.

You'd found out that he was born a werewolf - the first time he'd shifted was his thirteenth birthday. He would be considered an alpha in the werewolf hierarchy, though he wasn't the pack leader, that was his father. Unlike what is commonly believed, werewolf mates weren't predestined, they were able to choose their mates themselves. That one made your heart beat a little faster.

From behind, Jungkook kissed your naked shoulder. You hummed, still gazing at your hand clasped together with his. You could barely keep your eyes open, the urge to sleep overtaking your body by the minute. You had another question though.

“When you shifted in front of me it seemed…” You searched for a word. “Involuntary. How come?”

“Usually when I shift it is voluntarily, completely up to me.” You nodded still listening. “The only time it’s not voluntary is when there’s a full moon. Like tonight. Heightened emotions also make it more difficult to suppress it.”

“Ohh,” you muttered. That made sense. “That’s why it seemed painful? You were trying to avoid it?”

“Mhmm.”

It was silent for a moment. There was one more question burning in your mind.

“Koo?”

He hummed in acknowledgment. “I have another question.”

“Sure baby.”

“When you um,” you cleared your throat. You felt Jungkook move behind you, sitting up to gaze at your face. “When you uh, came. How come it wasn’t…,” you trailed off, too embarrassed to finish.

“How come it wasn’t what, sweetheart?” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“How come it wasn’t you know, a lot. Like it the stories.” You’d always read that whenever werewolves ejaculated it was a substantial amount, but when your boyfriend did, it was average. Granted, those were fanfictions and this was real life.

It was silent. When you turned to face him, you were greeted with his smug grin. “What stories might that be?”

“St~op,” you whined, swatting at his chest. He chuckled capturing his hand in yours, kissing it twice.

“Well, if you must know, you little minx,” you playfully rolled your eyes. “That only happens when I’m in my rut and I’m assuming you know what that means since you’ve read the stories.”

You hummed. “So I’m guessing that whole knot thing is to amp up the stories too right?” You tried to hide the relief in your voice. Jungkook settled back against your pillows making himself comfortable. “Oh no. That part’s very real.”

Your eyes widened. “What?!”

──•◦❥•◦──

Thank you for reading!♡

Distribution, copying, reposting, or translating of any kind is not permitted. I will take legal action against those who attempt to steal my work.

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