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mcrdvcks · 8 months ago

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i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1973 - we meet again my dear...

chapter summary: After leaving Team X behind, Logan finds himself back in New York City working as a bodyguard for various people. Until he finds himself acting as a bodyguard for you, a mobster's daughter.

word count: 18.3k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm a sucker for the bodyguard trope (and also just dofp logan in general, that man makes me go feral), so you know i had to do it when given the chance! i had so much fun writing this version of reader, especially because this is the closest to 'modern' times that we've gotten and i didn't have to do a ton of research about this year. the tags might give away a little bit of the plot, but i promise it's gonna be a fun ride ;)

warnings/tags: fluff, angst, 70s!logan, mafia/mob, implied age gap, flirting, smut, thigh riding, unprotected piv, creampie, arranged marriage

series masterlist - chapter 4 → chapter 6

He left Stryker, Victor, and Team X behind, settling in New York City as a bodyguard, hired by various people: politicians, the mafia, anyone.

Logan was now getting his fifth job, protecting a mobster’s young daughter.

He was used to jobs like this by now, but something about this one felt... different. As he walked through the large estate, the details blurred around him. His focus was on the job—until the moment he saw you.

You were standing by the window, the sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your face. There was something familiar about the way you held yourself, the way your hair fell over your shoulders. For a second, it felt like the air was sucked out of the room.

Logan’s chest tightened.

It was you.

Same face. Same presence. Same pull that had haunted him for over a century.

But you were different, too. This time, you weren’t a schoolteacher, a nurse, or a coal miner’s wife. You were his new job.

You turned, eyes meeting his, and for a brief moment, it felt like you recognized him too. That sense of familiarity flickered across your face before you smiled—polite, but distant.

“Y/N, this is Logan,” the mobster—your father—introduced. “He’ll be your new bodyguard.”

Your father’s voice faded into the background as Logan’s gaze remained locked on you. You gave a small nod, extending your hand. “Nice to meet you, Logan.”

Logan stared at your hand for a beat too long before taking it. That brief contact sent a shock through him, an old memory he couldn’t quite shake.

“Likewise,” he muttered, his voice rougher than he intended.

Your father clapped Logan on the back. “I expect you’ll keep her safe. There’s been some... tension with a rival family.”

Logan only nodded, but his attention stayed on you. You were right in front of him, alive. But you didn’t know him. Like always.

After your father left the room, you leaned against the window frame, crossing your arms. “So, how long have you been doing this?” you asked, your tone casual.

Logan leaned against the wall, watching you closely. “Long enough.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “That’s vague.”

He didn’t respond, and for a moment, silence settled between you two. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something unsaid hanging in the air.

“What about you?” Logan asked, more to fill the space than out of curiosity. “How do you feel about having a bodyguard?”

You shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

That earned a faint, almost imperceptible smile from Logan, but he quickly covered it with a grunt. “Glad to hear it.”

A pause. Then you looked at him, your eyes narrowing slightly, like you were trying to figure him out. “You seem... familiar.”

Logan stiffened. “Don’t think we’ve met before.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “No, but... I don’t know. Something about you.”

Logan’s heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his expression neutral. He couldn’t tell you. Not about the past lives, not about how many times he had watched you die.

You shrugged it off, smiling again. “Maybe I’m just imagining things.”

“Maybe,” Logan muttered, not meeting your eyes this time.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of introductions, schedules, and instructions from your father. Logan followed at a distance, keeping an eye on you, but his mind was elsewhere.

That night, Logan sat on the balcony just outside your room, staring out at the city lights. His thoughts raced, the weight of the engagement ring in his pocket feeling heavier than usual.

You were alive. Again.

But for how long this time?

---

You plopped onto your bed, the wire from your rotary phone stretching with you, “he is good looking though.”

You could practically hear Jennifer’s grin through the phone, “oh, yeah? Man, all your bodyguards are good looking. It’s not fair!”

You laughed, twirling the phone cord between your fingers. "He’s… different though. I can’t quite put my finger on it. He’s quiet, but not in the usual 'I’m-paid-to-watch-you' way."

"Is he mysterious?" Jennifer teased, her voice light. "Maybe he’s got some dark, brooding backstory. Mob families always hire guys like that—‘strong and silent.’"

You snorted. "Maybe. But he’s not like the others." You hesitated, leaning back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. “There’s something familiar about him… like I’ve met him before.”

Jennifer paused on the other end of the line, then her voice softened. "You think he’s one of your dad’s guys from back in the day?"

You shook your head, even though she couldn’t see it. "No, it’s not that. It’s… weird, Jen. Like I know him, but I don’t. It’s been bugging me since I met him."

"Maybe it’s fate," she joked, but her tone had a hint of seriousness. "You’ve been going through bodyguards like they’re tissues. Maybe this one’s here to stick around."

You rolled your eyes but smiled. "Fate? You’ve been reading too many romance novels."

"Hey, a girl can dream!" Jennifer laughed. "But seriously, if you feel something, maybe it’s worth looking into. He’s hot, right?"

You smiled at that, though your thoughts wandered back to Logan. The way his eyes lingered on you, like he was seeing something no one else could. "Yeah," you admitted softly. "He’s definitely that. He’s probably as old as my dad or somethin’. But man, Jen, if you saw him you’d lose your mind.”

You twirled the phone cord around your finger, still smiling to yourself, but your thoughts kept circling back to Logan. Something about the way he looked at you—like he knew more than he was saying—stuck with you. It wasn’t creepy or overprotective. It was... familiar. Comforting, even.

Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Hey, don’t overthink it, okay? Enjoy the view for once. Not everyone gets a hot bodyguard with a mysterious vibe. Maybe he’s the silver lining to your dad’s whole ‘paranoia’ problem.”

You laughed quietly. “Yeah, maybe.”

You hung up not long after, still feeling the weight of that odd, lingering sense of déjà vu.

---

The next morning, Logan was waiting for you downstairs. Dressed in his usual dark clothes, he stood near the front door with his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but alert. His eyes flicked toward you the second you entered the room.

There it was again—that heavy gaze that made it feel like he could see right through you.

“Mornin’,” you said, offering a small smile.

“Mornin’,” Logan replied, his voice gravelly.

Your father wasn’t home—out dealing with ‘business’—which gave you a rare moment to yourself. Well, mostly. You slipped on your leather jacket and glanced at Logan, your lips quirking up in a teasing grin. “What’s the plan, bodyguard? Gonna follow me around all day?”

Logan grunted, something close to amusement flashing in his eyes. “That’s the job.”

“You always this chatty?”

“Only when I meet interesting people.” His tone was dry, but there was the faintest flicker of a smile beneath it.

You snorted, heading for the door. “C’mon, hope you like running errands.”

Logan followed without complaint, falling into step beside you as you made your way to the car. The streets were quieter than usual, but the tension between rival families was palpable—something was brewing, and everyone knew it.

Still, Logan’s presence made you feel... safer. Like nothing bad could happen as long as he was there. It was strange. You barely knew him, but being around him felt easy. Natural. Like you’d known him for a lot longer than a day.

---

When you said you were going to run ‘errands,’ Logan hadn’t expected you to walk straight into an animal shelter. He followed you through the entrance, nodding politely at the woman at the front desk as you greeted her like an old friend.

“Morning, Lorraine!” you said with a bright smile.

Lorraine, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, smiled back. “There’s my favorite troublemaker. The pups will be glad to see you.” She cast a curious glance at Logan. “And who’s this?”

“My latest babysitter,” you said with a smirk, glancing at Logan. “Logan, meet Lorraine. Lorraine, Logan.”

Logan gave a curt nod. “Ma’am.”

Lorraine chuckled. “A man of few words. I like him already.” She waved you both toward the back. “Go on, they’ve been waiting for you.”

As soon as you walked past the front desk and entered the back area, the sound of excited barking filled the air. Dogs of all sizes pressed their noses against the bars of their cages, tails wagging furiously at the sight of you.

You crouched down in front of one of the kennels, talking softly to a scruffy little mutt as it whined and pawed at the bars. “Hey, buddy. Miss me?”

Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the way you scratched behind the dog's ears. There was something easy about the way you moved here, something soft. For a mobster’s kid, you had a surprisingly gentle touch.

"Didn't expect this to be part of the job," Logan muttered after a moment, his voice low but teasing.

You glanced up, grinning. "What, thought I’d be shopping for fur coats or shaking people down for cash?"

Logan raised a brow. "Somethin’ like that."

You laughed, standing up and dusting your hands off. “Sorry to disappoint. I’ve got a weakness for strays.” You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a small bag of treats, tossing some into the kennels. "These guys have it rough enough without me skipping out on them."

Logan watched as the dogs practically fought over the treats, barking happily at your attention. You moved from cage to cage, giving each dog a little affection. It was... unexpected.

Logan watched you toss the last treat into one of the kennels, the scruffy mutt practically vibrating with happiness. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eyes as you turned and dusted your hands off with a grin.

"You’re full of surprises," Logan muttered.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you folded your arms. “Oh, yeah? Disappointed?”

"Not exactly." His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile.

You took a step closer, tilting your head. "Well, what did you expect?"

Logan shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. "Spoiled. Entitled. Maybe a little dangerous."

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and Logan’s chest tightened in a way that felt too familiar. "Dangerous, huh? Guess I’ve got some layers." You gave him a playful once-over. "What about you? Big, scary bodyguard with a brooding vibe. Got any surprises I should know about?"

Logan snorted. "Not really."

You narrowed your eyes like you didn’t quite believe him, but instead of pressing, you motioned toward the door. "C’mon. I’ve got one more stop."

Logan fell into step beside you as you exited the shelter and made your way toward the car. You chatted casually, filling the silence with stories about your favorite dogs at the shelter. But Logan stayed mostly quiet, his mind racing. It wasn’t just your voice—it was you. The way you carried yourself, the way you teased him like it was second nature.

He stole a glance at you as you drove. God, it felt the same as always. Like gravity pulled him toward you whether he wanted it or not.

---

Logan should’ve expected the second time around that you weren’t taking him to a normal place for errands. He was even more surprised when you parked in a nursing home parking lot and got out with that same pep in your step.

The sliding doors opened as you walked up to the front counter, where a middle-aged woman with tired eyes peered over the top of a blocky computer monitor. Her name tag read Carol.

“Morning, Carol,” you chirped with an easy smile, tapping your fingers on the desk.

Carol looked up and brightened at the sight of you. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite visitor. Here to cheer up the old-timers again?”

“Always,” you said, flashing a grin. “And I brought backup today.” You gestured behind you to Logan, who gave a brief nod.

Carol gave him a once-over and arched an eyebrow. “Well now, you didn’t tell me you’d be bringing a tall drink of water.”

You smirked, glancing over your shoulder at Logan. “Yeah, figured I’d mix things up.”

Logan just grunted in response, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly—half amusement, half something else. Carol winked at you before waving toward the hallway. “You know where to find them.”

You led Logan down the hall, your steps light and familiar as if you'd been coming here for years. He followed quietly, his sharp gaze flicking between doorways and hallways, always alert.

“You spend a lot of time here?” Logan asked as you slowed near a door marked Activity Room.

You shrugged. “Yeah. Most of these folks don’t get many visitors. It’s nice to stop by and remind them they’re not forgotten.”

Logan gave a small grunt of acknowledgment. It was such a simple thing—volunteering at a nursing home—but it hit him hard. It was just like you to find the overlooked parts of the world and give them your attention, like the dogs at the shelter, like the people here. You always had that streak of kindness, no matter which life you were living.

You nudged open the door, stepping into the room. A group of residents sat in mismatched chairs, some knitting, others half-watching a daytime soap on an old television. At the sight of you, faces lit up.

“There she is!” one of the older women called, setting her knitting aside with a delighted clap of her hands. “I thought you forgot about us!”

“As if I ever could,” you replied warmly, walking over to give her a light hug.

Logan lingered near the doorway, watching as you moved through the room like you belonged there, chatting with each resident, asking about their week, their families—if they remembered them. His heart twisted, both with admiration and an ache that wouldn’t quit.

You noticed him standing off to the side and shot him a teasing grin. “Don’t be shy, Logan. They won’t bite.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not worried about them.”

You laughed, turning back to an older man with a deck of cards spread out in front of him. “Logan, meet Mr. Russo. He’s got a mean poker face.”

Mr. Russo gave Logan a once-over, then grinned, his false teeth gleaming. “You any good at cards, tough guy?”

Logan shrugged. “I can hold my own.”

You slid into the chair beside Mr. Russo, motioning for Logan to join you. “Care to test your luck?”

Logan hesitated for only a moment before pulling out a chair, the legs scraping against the linoleum. As he sat down, you dealt him a hand, your fingers brushing his in the process—a fleeting touch, but enough to send a jolt of familiarity through both of you.

You caught Logan’s gaze over the cards, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. There it was again—that sense that you knew him somehow, though you couldn’t quite place it. It nagged at you, but you let it pass, offering him a playful smirk instead.

“Careful,” you warned. “I don’t go easy on anyone.”

Logan returned the smirk, something dangerous glinting in his eyes. “Neither do I.”

---

After the game, which you won—barely, you said your goodbyes to the residents, promising to visit again soon. Logan followed silently as you made your way back to the car, the soft clinking of your keys the only sound between you.

“Not what you expected for today, huh?” you asked as you slid into the driver’s seat.

Logan leaned against the car door, arms crossed. “Not exactly.”

You smiled, starting the engine. “Bet you thought being a mobster’s kid would be more... glamorous.”

“Something like that.” He gave you a sidelong glance. “You like keeping people guessing, don’t you?”

You grinned, shifting the car into drive. “It’s one of my many talents.”

The two of you drove in companionable silence, the hum of the city filling the space between you. Logan rested his elbow on the window frame, glancing at you every so often. You were like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve—different from the others, yet still unmistakably you.

“Why do you do it?” he asked after a while. “The shelter, the nursing home. You don’t have to.”

You shrugged, your expression thoughtful. "Dunno. Just because I was born into this life doesn’t mean I like what my dad does. I guess sometimes I feel like I’m tryin’ to balance the scales."

Logan leaned back against the seat, his sharp gaze on you, but he didn’t respond right away. You could tell he was chewing on that—probably picking apart your words, trying to figure you out. He always seemed like the kind of man who noticed everything, even if he didn’t say much about it.

You flashed him a teasing grin, trying to lighten the mood. "What about you? Any skeletons in the closet? Or are you just a man of mystery with perfect timing?"

Logan snorted softly, his lips twitching in that almost-smile he had. "I’m no mystery. Just do my job."

"Oh, come on," you pressed, throwing him a playful look. "You gotta give me something. Favorite food? Ever been married? Deep, dark secret?"

He gave you a sidelong glance, amused but guarded. "Steak. No. And not a chance."

You huffed in mock disappointment, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel. "You’re no fun, Logan."

"Never said I was," he muttered, but there was warmth in his tone, like he didn’t mind your teasing at all.

The conversation paused for a moment, the soft hum of the engine filling the space between you. Logan’s eyes lingered on you a little longer than they probably should have—taking in the curve of your smile, the way your fingers tapped a rhythm on the wheel.

And damn, if you didn’t make it hard to stay detached. You were so... alive. Every glance, every smile, every little laugh. You carried yourself like someone who knew how fleeting things could be—and even though Logan knew you couldn’t remember, he remembered every time you’d slipped through his fingers. That thought settled heavy in his chest, like a weight he carried everywhere.

You shot him a grin. "You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna think you’re interested."

Logan’s lips twitched. "What makes you think I’m not?"

The boldness of his response caught you off guard for a second, but you recovered quickly, leaning a little closer, eyes glinting with mischief. "Careful, tough guy. You’re supposed to be protecting me, not flirting with me."

"Who says I can’t do both?" His voice was low, rough, and it sent a small shiver down your spine.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. "I think my dad might disagree."

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly, though his expression didn’t change. "Your dad’s not here."

There it was—that pull again, the quiet, unspoken gravity between the two of you. It was like standing on the edge of something dangerous and thrilling all at once. You felt it in the way his gaze lingered, in the weight of his words. He wasn’t just playing along.

You cleared your throat, breaking the tension with a teasing smile. "Well, if you’re planning on making a move, Logan, you better make it good. I’ve got high standards, y’know."

Logan let out a low chuckle—quiet, but genuine—and for a moment, you thought you saw something softer in his eyes. Something like... affection.

But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that familiar guarded expression.

"Noted," he muttered, shifting his gaze back to the road ahead.

You grinned, satisfied that you’d managed to chip away at his walls, even if only a little.

---

The two of you finished your errands without any trouble, stopping by a grocery store for some essentials and grabbing a late lunch at a small diner tucked away from the main streets. It wasn’t much—just burgers and fries—but sitting across from Logan in the booth, you felt surprisingly content.

He was quiet most of the time, but not in a way that felt awkward. It was... comfortable. Like he didn’t need to fill the silence just for the sake of it. And every now and then, he’d throw out a dry, sarcastic comment that made you laugh harder than you expected.

You leaned back in the booth, sipping your soda and watching him over the rim of your glass. "Y’know, Logan... you’re not half as scary as you look."

Logan raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Disappointed?"

"Not at all," you replied, your smile turning a little softer. "I like surprises."

He held your gaze for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind those sharp blue eyes. And for a second—just a second—you thought maybe, just maybe, there was something familiar about the way he looked at you. Like you were more than just a job to him.

But before you could dwell on it, Logan glanced at his watch and cleared his throat. "We should head back. Your old man’ll be expecting you."

You sighed dramatically, sliding out of the booth. "Guess my fun’s over."

Logan chuckled, tossing a few bills on the table for the check. "For now."

You gave him a playful nudge as you walked past him toward the door. "Don’t sound too excited."

---

By the time you got back to the house, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting the streets in a soft orange glow. Logan followed you inside, his quiet presence grounding you in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

"Thanks for today," you said, tossing your jacket onto a chair.

Logan gave a small nod, leaning against the wall near the door. "No problem."

You hesitated for a moment, then shot him one last grin. "You know, you’re not as bad as I thought."

"Same to you," he replied, that almost-smile creeping back onto his face.

And just like that, the unspoken connection between you simmered beneath the surface, waiting.

Maybe Logan was right. Maybe your dad would be pissed if he knew how much you enjoyed your new bodyguard’s company.

But standing there, watching Logan’s gaze linger on you for just a beat too long, you found you didn’t care all that much.

"Goodnight, Logan," you said softly, turning toward the stairs.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he replied, his voice low and steady.

And as you climbed the stairs, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the first time you’d said goodnight to him like this.

Not by a long shot.

---

Your dad told you not to leave the house today, which was fine by you, you had laundry to do anyways.

It had become habit to do your own laundry, even if you did have maids around the house. Nancy, one of the older maids, was the one to teach you that, along with cooking and cleaning since your mother has been gone since you were little.

You had a radio set on the washer, the familiar croon of 70s tunes filling the small laundry room as you pulled warm clothes from the dryer into a basket. You’d been at it for the better part of the morning, the simple domestic task giving you a sense of normalcy. The soft hum of the machines, the crackling radio, and the scent of clean laundry— it was all routine.

Routine helped keep your mind off the storm brewing outside your little bubble.

You sighed, swaying your hips a bit to the music as you lifted the basket. The house felt quieter today, with your dad off dealing with ‘business’ as usual. And Logan? He was somewhere nearby, probably lurking in the shadows like the brooding protector he was.

As if on cue, Logan appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He was dressed in his usual dark clothing, looking as stoic as ever. You wondered if he ever wore anything other than flannels and a leather jacket.

"You know, I didn’t take you for the laundry-doing type," he remarked, his gravelly voice cutting through the music.

You raised an eyebrow, throwing a playful glance over your shoulder. "What, you think I’m too spoiled to do my own chores?"

Logan's lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "Something like that."

You smirked, grabbing the laundry basket and turning to face him. "I like to surprise people."

"You’re good at it," he replied, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. There was something behind those eyes, something deeper, but as always, he kept it hidden beneath that calm, impenetrable exterior.

You tilted your head, leaning your hip against the dryer. "You sticking around or just checking on me?"

Logan shrugged, though his eyes never left yours. "Just making sure you're not running off anywhere. Your dad was pretty clear about staying put."

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips softened the gesture. "I’ll be a good girl. Promise."

Logan grunted in response, pushing off the doorframe and walking closer. "You’re a lot of things, Y/N. Not sure ‘good girl’ is one of them."

You let out a laugh, swatting at him with a towel. "Hey, I can behave when I want to. It’s just more fun not to."

He caught your wrist with ease, holding it for a second too long before letting go. There was that familiar tension between you again, the unspoken something that crackled in the air whenever the two of you were close. He probably didn't mean to linger, but you could feel it—that pull.

"Maybe it’s the company," you teased, grabbing your laundry basket. "You bring out the best in me."

Logan didn’t respond immediately, but there was something in his eyes, something that made your breath hitch. He was quiet, but not in the usual way bodyguards were. With Logan, there was a weight to his silence, like he was always holding back, always watching.

You pushed past the lingering tension with a grin, heading toward the door with your laundry. "Come on, broody. Let’s get out of the laundry room before we both go stir-crazy."

As you passed by, you brushed against him—just lightly, but enough to send a small jolt through you. He didn’t move, but his eyes followed your every step, that silent intensity never wavering.

You stopped in the hallway and shot him a look over your shoulder. “You’re making this way too serious, you know. I’m doing laundry, not sneaking out of prison.”

“Old habits die hard,” he replied, crossing his arms with a slight smirk. “Besides, I think your dad’s idea of ‘safe’ is pretty different from yours.”

You rolled your eyes, hugging the laundry basket closer. “Right. Next, he’ll say I need an escort to the mailbox.”

Logan raised a brow, clearly amused. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

That earned him a laugh, and you shook your head, settling the basket on the table in the hall. “Guess you’re stuck with me then, bodyguard.”

“Doesn’t seem so bad,” he said, his voice softening as he glanced at you. His gaze was familiar in a way you couldn’t place, like he’d looked at you this way a hundred times before.

“Yeah?” You took a step closer, crossing your arms with a playful grin. “And here I thought I’d be driving you crazy.”

“You do,” he murmured, almost too quietly. His lips turned up slightly, but he looked away, that unspoken wall going back up.

“Good,” you teased, reaching out to poke him in the chest. “Keeps things interesting.”

Logan caught your hand before you could pull it back, holding it just long enough that you could feel the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in it. There was something in his eyes that hinted at… more. Like he’d known you far longer than you could’ve ever guessed.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart thumped, but you kept your tone light. “Depends on what you’re offering, doesn’t it?”

His gaze dropped to your hand, still caught in his. He let go, but there was something in his expression that lingered. It was like he was searching for the right words, something he couldn’t quite say. Or maybe didn’t want to.

Instead, he settled back with that guarded look. “Better get used to me being around,” he said, nodding toward the front of the house. “Your dad won’t have it any other way.”

You glanced down the hall and shrugged. “Guess I can live with that. For now.”

Logan’s lips twitched, just barely. “For now,” he echoed, and there was something heavier in those words, something he wasn’t sharing.

You lingered for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before you picked up the basket again. “Well, I’ve got more laundry to fold. But if you feel like helping out…”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nice try, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, shooting him a wink. “Fine. I’ll let you off easy this time.”

“Appreciate it,” he said with a smirk, but his eyes softened as he watched you turn to go, like he was holding back something he couldn’t quite name.

As you walked away, the light-heartedness of the moment stayed with you, but so did something else. It was that look Logan had, the one that made you feel seen, like he knew you better than anyone else ever had.

Maybe he did.

Or maybe, in some impossible way, he always had.

---

“No, no, no, cara. Give it to me.” Nancy took the mixing bowl away from you, stirring the batter while muttering something in Italian.

You leaned your hip against the counter, placing your head on Nancy’s shoulder with a pout. "I was doing what you’re doing.”

Nancy shook her head, stirring the batter with a practiced hand, her warm, familiar presence comforting. “No, cara mia, you were doing what you think I’m doing.” She shot you a look, one of those fond, chiding glances she’d perfected over the years. “And it was not the same.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Fine, but you’re teaching me bad habits. This is how I stay spoiled, you know.”

She chuckled, patting your cheek affectionately. “You think you need me to be spoiled? You do just fine on your own.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s familiar silhouette appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, watching you with a slight smirk that was becoming all too familiar—and endearing.

“Careful, Nancy,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “She’s already hard enough to handle.”

You turned, hands on your hips, feigning offense. “Excuse me, hard to handle?”

Logan shrugged, crossing his arms with a smirk. “You said it, not me.”

Nancy chuckled, eyes sparkling as she looked between you and Logan. “Ah, Y/N, he’s right. You do have a little spirit.”

You scoffed playfully, giving Logan an exaggerated glare before grinning back at Nancy. “What? I’m an angel, and you know it.”

Logan snorted, clearly enjoying himself. “Right. A real saint.” He gave you a knowing look, one that made your stomach flip despite yourself. That unspoken energy simmered between you two, even as you tried to keep it casual.

Nancy just shook her head, muttering something in Italian as she set the bowl down. “Angels don’t cause so much trouble,” she teased, pinching your cheek. “I taught you better.”

You rubbed your cheek with a grin, leaning back against the counter. “I’m blaming Logan. His bad influence must be rubbing off on me.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “That right? Thought you didn’t need any help there.”

“Oh, I don’t,” you said, crossing your arms with a challenging look. “I’m fully capable of trouble on my own.”

Nancy watched the two of you with a satisfied smile, turning back to her baking. “Ah, I see,” she murmured, her voice light. “It’s good to have someone who knows how to keep you in check.”

The glint in her eye wasn’t lost on you, and you rolled your eyes. “You’re making it sound like I’m some kind of wild child.”

“No, no,” she replied with a grin, waving her hand. “Just that I think he knows you better than you think, cara.”

Logan’s gaze softened a little at that, and though he didn’t say anything, his look lingered, as if he were silently agreeing with her.

You cleared your throat, feeling the familiar warmth creeping up your neck. “Well,” you started, trying to brush off the moment, “if Logan’s going to stick around, he might as well help.”

Nancy gave a sly smile, turning to Logan. “What do you say, Logan? A little kitchen work wouldn’t hurt.”

Logan shook his head, holding his hands up in surrender. “You two are doing just fine without me.”

You shot him a grin, taking a step closer. “Oh, come on. Big, tough Logan afraid of a little flour?”

His smirk softened as he looked down at you. “You keep pushing, and I might just teach you a lesson in troublemaking.”

Your stomach fluttered at the way his gaze stayed locked on yours, that familiar pull tugging you closer. “Is that a threat?”

“Call it… a warning,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand brushed against yours, just for a second, but it was enough to send a spark up your arm.

Nancy cleared her throat, clearly amused. “Okay, okay. I don’t need you two making a mess of my kitchen.”

You stepped back, giving Nancy a sheepish smile, and Logan chuckled, the sound low and easy. “She’s right,” he said, nodding toward the door. “Guess I’ll just keep an eye on you from a safe distance.”

Nancy gave him a knowing look, shaking her head with a chuckle. “If only it were that simple.”

---

“Ah, stay still, cara.” Nancy chided you, taking out a roller from your hair.

You gave Nancy a pout, eyes skimming your reflection in the mirror with clear discontent. "I don’t like it." Your voice held more weight than just the hair and makeup, though, and Nancy seemed to pick up on it.

She clicked her tongue, smoothing out a curl before looking at you through the mirror. “Ah, cara mia, tonight is important to your father. Besides,” she added, eyes glinting, “you look beautiful, yes?”

You gave her a half-hearted smile, brushing your hands over the bright yellow fabric of your dress. The dress was elegant and too formal for your taste, the kind of thing you’d never have chosen if it weren’t for your dad’s insistence on making you ‘presentable’ for his associates.

Nancy sighed, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, it’s one night. Then you’ll be back to your regular clothes, hmm?”

You grinned, rolling your eyes. “Can’t come soon enough.”

Just as you were about to add more, there was a quiet knock at the door. You looked up, already expecting Logan’s familiar silhouette. He leaned against the frame, hands in his pockets, his usual air of calm doing little to hide the intense look in his eyes as he took in the sight of you in the dress.

“Looks like they’ve got you all dolled up,” he remarked, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

You shot him a look, half annoyed, half amused. “Yeah, laugh it up, tough guy. Bet you’re glad it’s not you in this thing.”

Logan chuckled, stepping further into the room. “You could say that.” His eyes met yours, and for a brief second, there was something in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite put into words. But just as quickly, he looked away.

Nancy gave you a knowing smile, patting your shoulder before stepping back. “Logan,” she said, with a gentle warning in her voice, “take care of her tonight, yes?”

Logan’s expression softened, his gaze turning protective as he looked at you. “Always do.”

Nancy winked, then left the room, leaving you alone with him.

You let out a sigh, reaching for the hem of your dress as if you could somehow make it less constricting. “Do I really have to go down there?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You think your dad’s throwing this party for fun? Whole point is for you to be seen.”

“Great,” you muttered, moving toward the door. But as you passed him, Logan placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his voice lower, more reassuring. “They’re not expecting anything from you. Just show up, smile, let them know you exist.”

You looked up at him, searching his face. He was steady, calm, his expression soft in a way he rarely let others see. You didn’t know why, but having him there made you feel a little more at ease. “Guess I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Nope,” he replied, his mouth twitching into that almost-smile.

With a resigned sigh, you squared your shoulders. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

---

The party was everything you’d dreaded: formal, suffocating, and filled with people whose only interest in you was as your father’s daughter. You’d stuck close to Logan most of the night, exchanging quiet remarks whenever the chance arose, his presence the only thing keeping you from losing your mind. But as the night wore on, a few glasses of champagne and the tension of the evening started to wear on you.

You tugged on Logan’s sleeve as you leaned in close. “Think anyone would notice if I snuck out?” you murmured, your breath warm against his ear.

Logan chuckled low, his gaze flickering over you. “Considering your dad’s been watching you like a hawk? Probably.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your hand brush his arm. “Figures. He can’t just let me have one night off.” You shifted closer, feeling his warmth through his jacket, and gave him a mischievous smile. “Bet you didn’t sign up for babysitting duty.”

“Didn’t realize you’d need it,” he replied with a smirk, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear.

You nudged him playfully, letting your hand linger on his arm. “I don’t,” you said, a little more insistently. “You just don’t know what to do with me.”

His eyes met yours, and there was something dark and unspoken in his gaze. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice dropping. “I might take you up on that.”

The hint of challenge in his tone sent a thrill through you, and you leaned closer, your hand settling on his chest as you whispered, “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

You could feel his heartbeat, steady beneath your hand, but his expression gave nothing away. He looked down at you, his jaw tight, but his eyes held that familiar intensity, the kind that had always made you wonder just how long he’d been watching you. It was intoxicating, that pull between you, and tonight, with the champagne loosening your guard, you felt bolder than usual.

When you finally pulled away, you could feel his gaze following you, but you didn’t let yourself look back. Instead, you mingled through the crowd, smiling politely, pretending to listen to conversations while stealing glances at Logan across the room.

After what felt like hours, your father’s attention finally shifted, and you took the chance to slip away to your bedroom.

As you walked up the stairs, Logan trailed behind you, like always. You were tired of this, of the flirting, how he did it back to you, but how nothing ever happened.

Well tonight you were done with that.

You opened your bedroom door and sat on the bed, quickly slipping off your heels and tossing them carelessly across the room. The muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filtered up from downstairs, where the party raged on. Logan stood in the doorway, as he always did, watching you in that silent, intense way that had been driving you crazy for months.

You looked up at him, your fingers playing with the hem of your short yellow dress, the fabric brushing against your thighs as you shifted on the bed. “You comin’ in, or are you just gonna stand there all night?”

Logan didn’t respond right away, his jaw ticking as his eyes flicked over you, taking in the sight of you sitting there, legs crossed, your dress riding up just enough to tease. He sighed, stepping into the room but staying near the door. “Your old man’s got half the city downstairs, Y/N. This ain’t the time.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Since when do you care about my dad? He’s not your boss.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, the leather of his jacket creaking. “He pays me to keep you safe, not… this.”

You stood up from the bed, taking a step toward him. “This?” you repeated, voice playful, but you could feel the tension in the air thickening. “And what is ‘this,’ Logan?”

He didn’t answer, just stood there, his eyes dark and unreadable, but you could see the way his body tensed when you got closer, the way his gaze flicked down to your legs before snapping back up to your face.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the rough material of his flannel, and you could feel the heat of his body through the layers of fabric. He stiffened, his hand catching your wrist, but it wasn’t harsh. Just enough to stop you.

“Y/N, don’t,” he warned, his voice low, rough.

You tilted your head, stepping even closer until your body was almost pressed against his. “Why not?” you asked softly. “You’ve been following me around for months. Always there, always watching. What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid,” he muttered, but his grip on your wrist tightened just a little, like he was holding himself back. “You’re too young for this. I work for your dad.”

You pulled your wrist free, undeterred, your hand now resting against his chest. “I’m not a kid, Logan. And you don’t work for him—you work for me. You’ve been protecting me, haven’t you?”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“Then what do you mean?” you shot back, moving even closer, your fingers trailing up to his shoulder, over the leather of his jacket. “You’ve been pulling away from me every time I get close, but you keep coming back.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his hands hovering near your waist, as if he was afraid to touch you. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “And you know that.” You pressed a little harder, your lips just inches from his jaw, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “You don’t have to keep pretending like you don’t want this.”

His hands shot up to your shoulders, gripping you tightly, but he didn’t push you away this time. His breathing was heavier now, the muscles in his arms tensing as if he was fighting against himself. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he growled, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe not,” you admitted, your lips brushing the stubble on his jaw as you spoke. “But I know what I want.”

Logan groaned low in his throat, his fingers tightening on your shoulders, but still, he didn’t push you away. His resistance was crumbling, you could feel it.

“You’re not a kid,” he repeated quietly, almost like he was trying to convince himself.

“No,” you whispered back, your lips ghosting along the side of his neck, your hands moving to his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. “I’m not.”

In a swift movement, you pushed him back toward the chair in the corner of the room, his legs hitting the edge as you guided him down. He sat heavily, his hands falling from your shoulders to your hips, still trying to hold onto that last bit of control.

You straddled his thigh, your dress riding up as you settled against him, the heat of your body pressed against the denim of his jeans. His hands moved up to your waist, holding you in place, but the look in his eyes told you he was barely holding on.

“Y/N,” he rasped, but his voice was shaky, uncertain.

You didn’t give him time to think. You started moving, rocking your hips against his thigh, slow at first, testing. His grip on your waist tightened, his eyes darkening as he watched you, the tension in his body radiating through his hands.

He wasn’t stopping you.

You bit your lip, your breath hitching as you pressed harder against him, the friction sending a jolt of heat through you. Logan groaned, his hands sliding down to your hips, holding you steady as you moved. His control was slipping, and you could feel it.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his head falling back against the chair, his eyes squeezed shut.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing his ear. “Still think I’m too young?”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping you harder as you rocked against him, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against the thin material of your underwear. Every movement sent sparks of pleasure through you, and you could tell from the way his breathing quickened that he was feeling it too.

His hands slid up your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he tried to pull you closer, but you were in control now. You pressed your lips to his neck, kissing the exposed skin, feeling the tension in his body as you kissed down toward his collarbone, your fingers tangling in his shirt.

Logan groaned, his hands gripping you tighter as you moved faster, grinding against his thigh with more urgency. The heat between your legs was almost unbearable now, the pressure building with every movement, every gasp that escaped your lips.

Logan's eyes were shut tight, head thrown back against the chair, his hands gripping your waist like he was the one trying to stay grounded. But you weren’t stopping, not after all the months of back-and-forth, all the moments you’d caught him watching you with that dark, unreadable look. The friction, the heat pooling between your legs, was everything you’d been waiting for, and it was clear from the roughness of his breathing that he wasn’t far behind.

You pressed harder, your hips rolling against his thigh as you gripped his shoulders to steady yourself. The thin fabric of your dress had ridden up, and you knew he could feel just how soaked you were through the denim of his jeans. His hands were at your waist, digging into your skin in a way that bordered on painful but only made you push down harder, rocking your hips with more insistence.

Logan’s voice was rough when he finally spoke, his hands tightening as if he was trying to keep himself from pulling you in closer. “Y/N… you’re playin’ with fire here,” he growled, the words thick, like he was barely holding back.

You ignored him, pressing a little harder, your lips hovering just over the edge of his jaw as you breathed, “Maybe I like the heat.”

His jaw clenched, but his hands slid up, settling just under your ribs, holding you steady as you moved. Each shift of your hips brought another groan out of him, the sound vibrating through his chest and sending a thrill straight through you. You could feel yourself getting closer, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the pressure built, the heat between your legs almost too much to bear.

“Logan,” you whispered, your hands slipping up to tangle in his hair, pulling his face closer. You could see the restraint etched across his face, the way his jaw was clenched tight, like he was struggling to keep himself from giving in. “I need you.”

His hands tensed on your waist, fingers digging in harder, his breathing growing rougher with every word that slipped from your lips. But he didn’t pull away; if anything, he held you tighter, letting you grind against him, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against you in a way that left you breathless, desperate.

“You know what you’re doin’ to me?” he muttered, his voice barely more than a growl as his eyes met yours, dark and full of something you’d been longing to see for months.

“Maybe,” you replied, a small, breathless smile tugging at your lips as you kept moving, kept pressing closer, feeling the tension between you both thicken until it was almost unbearable. “Maybe I want to see how far you’ll let me go.”

Logan groaned, his grip tightening as his eyes fell shut again, his hands shifting to guide your hips, helping you keep up the steady rhythm that was driving you both closer to the edge. You leaned forward again, your lips brushing against his neck, pressing soft kisses along the exposed skin as you rocked against him, the heat building with every second.

“Y/N,” he rasped, his voice so low it sent a shiver through you. “You’re… you’re so damn—”

You cut him off, pressing your lips to the spot just under his ear, feeling the way his breath hitched as your hips ground down harder. You were close, every nerve ending on fire, and you could feel that he was, too. His hands were everywhere, sliding up your back, pressing you closer, holding you tight like he was afraid to let go.

And then, finally, the pressure broke. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders as your hips stilled, your body shuddering against him. Logan’s grip on your waist tightened, his own breath hitching as he held you steady, his hands warm and solid as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

He was quiet for a long moment, his breathing heavy, and you could feel the way his body had tensed beneath you, the strain in his hands as he held himself back. Slowly, you looked up, meeting his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch all over again.

Without a word, Logan shifted, his hands sliding down to hook under your thighs as he stood, lifting you with a strength that sent another thrill through you. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he carried you to the bed, the heat in his gaze leaving no room for second thoughts, no hesitation. This was it, and you were ready.

He laid you down, his hands lingering on your thighs, his fingers brushing over your skin as he looked down at you, his expression a mix of hunger and restraint. You reached up, tugging him closer until he was hovering over you, his weight pressing down just enough to make you feel secure, safe.

This was what you’d been waiting for, what you’d both been skirting around for too long. Logan’s hands slid up your sides, his fingers trailing along the fabric of your dress, and you felt your breath hitch as his gaze darkened, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

His thumbs brushed the exposed skin just above the low neckline of your dress, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You watched him, eyes locked on his as he leaned in, his jaw tight, the hunger in his gaze barely restrained. The room felt smaller, warmer, like the air had thickened between you.

And then, finally, his mouth was on yours.

The kiss was desperate, wild, like he was making up for lost time. His lips claimed yours with a roughness that sent a shiver down your spine, his hands moving to cradle your face, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand the distance. You gasped against his mouth, your fingers finding their way into his hair, tugging him down harder.

It had been seventy-three years since he’d last kissed you—nearly three quarters of a century of holding back—and the intensity of it showed. It was all-consuming, like he was trying to make up for every second he’d denied himself this.

Logan groaned into your mouth, a deep, almost pained sound, and the desperation in it made your blood race. He kissed you like he was starving, like he needed this, needed you, and you felt your body melt into him. His hands slid down your body, rough and sure, stopping at your hips to pull you flush against him. The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, and the friction of his jeans against your thighs only made it worse.

You broke the kiss for air, your breaths coming fast, but Logan didn’t stop. His mouth found your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your throat, teeth scraping against your skin just enough to make you gasp. His hands were everywhere, tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your hips, gripping you with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through you.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice breathless, needy. You tilted your head back, giving him better access as his lips continued their descent, leaving a path of fire along your skin. Your hands fisted in his flannel, pulling him closer, and he groaned again, the sound vibrating through your body.

“God, Y/N,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, like he was barely holding on. His hands slipped under your dress, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your thighs, and you shivered, your breath catching in your throat. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide with need. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, but the words were laced with something softer, something that made your heart skip.

You didn’t reply, just pulled him down for another kiss, this one just as desperate as the first. Your hands roamed over his chest, slipping beneath the open flannel to feel the heat of his skin, the hard muscles that tensed under your touch. Logan shivered, his breath catching as your fingers brushed against his bare chest, and you felt a rush of satisfaction at the way he reacted to you.

His jacket slipped from his shoulders, landing somewhere on the floor, but neither of you paid it any mind. Your hands were already pushing the flannel off him, revealing more of his skin, and Logan helped you, shrugging it off with a growl of impatience. The white beater he wore beneath clung to his chest, and you could see the way his muscles flexed beneath it, the way the fabric stretched taut over his shoulders.

He leaned back down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, and you moaned into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders. Logan’s hands were back under your dress, sliding up, leaving trails of heat in their wake. His touch was rough, calloused, but so incredibly gentle in a way that made your heart ache. You arched into him, your body pressing closer, desperate for more, for everything he was willing to give.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, his hands sliding higher until his thumbs brushed the edge of your panties. He paused, breathing heavily, his eyes searching yours, looking for any sign of hesitation. But there was none. You were all in, had been from the moment you’d first seen him.

You reached down, grabbing his wrists and guiding his hands further up, silently urging him on. Logan’s breath hitched, and his eyes darkened even more, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, and you could feel your heart pounding as he tugged, the thin fabric slipping down your legs.

"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, his voice thick with need as his calloused hands slid back up your thighs, pushing your dress higher. "You're so damn wet already."

You gasped as his fingers brushed against your center, your hips jerking up instinctively. "Logan, please," you whimpered, reaching for him.

He leaned down to kiss you hard, his tongue pushing into your mouth as his fingers began exploring you properly. The roughness of his hands contrasted with how gently he touched you, like he was afraid of breaking you. You moaned into his mouth as he slid one thick finger inside, your hands gripping his shoulders.

"That's it, darlin'," he murmured against your lips. "Let me hear you."

Your dress was bunched around your waist now as Logan worked another finger into you, stretching you carefully. Your earlier orgasm had left you sensitive, making every touch feel electric. His thumb found your clit and began rubbing slow circles that had you writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you gasped, your nails digging into his skin through his beater. "I need—ah!—I need more."

He growled low in his throat, curling his fingers inside you. "Tell me what you need, Y/N. Say it."

Your face flushed but you met his eyes. "I need you inside me. Please, Logan. I've wanted this for so long."

Something dark and possessive flashed in his eyes. He withdrew his fingers, making you whimper at the loss, and reached down to undo his belt. The metal clinked as he pulled it free, the sound sending a thrill through you.

You sat up enough to pull your dress over your head, leaving you in just your bra. Logan's eyes raked over you hungrily as he pushed his jeans down his hips. The obvious bulge in his boxers made your mouth go dry.

"Come here," he growled, pulling you into another searing kiss as his hands found the clasp of your bra. It took him only seconds to undo it, and then you were bare before him, your nipples hardening in the cool air.

Logan's mouth moved to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks as his hands cupped your breasts. You moaned as he rolled your nipples between his fingers, your back arching into his touch.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he muttered against your skin, his voice rough. He shifted to take one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as you gasped and squirmed beneath him.

Your hands found the hem of his beater, tugging insistently until he pulled back long enough to yank it off. The sight of his bare chest, all hard muscle and dark hair, made heat pool between your legs. There were old scars scattered across his skin - remnants of wounds time hadn't quite erased.

You reached for his boxers but he caught your wrists, pinning them above your head with one large hand. "Not yet," he growled, his free hand sliding down between your legs again. "Want to make sure you're ready for me."

His fingers found your clit again and you cried out, oversensitive and desperate. "Logan, please," you begged, trying to buck your hips up against his hand. "I'm ready, I swear. I need you now."

He studied your face for a long moment, his eyes dark with desire, before releasing your wrists. "Take them off," he ordered, nodding to his boxers.

Your hands shook slightly as you pushed the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock. He was huge, thick and hard, already leaking at the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly, and Logan's breath hitched.

"Careful, darlin'," he warned, his voice strained. "Been wanting this too long to end it early."

He pushed you back onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs. The head of his cock brushed against your entrance and you both groaned. Logan braced himself on his forearms above you, his eyes locked on yours.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice rough but gentle. "Once I start, I don't know if I'll be able to stop."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I'm sure. Please, Logan. I want you."

He kissed you hard as he began pushing inside, swallowing your gasps as he stretched you open. The burn was intense but perfect, your body gradually adjusting to his size. Logan moved slowly, giving you time to adapt, but you could feel the tension in his muscles as he held himself back.

"Fuck," he groaned when he was finally fully seated inside you. "So tight, darlin'. Feel so good around me."

You clutched at his shoulders, panting. "Move," you urged. "Please, I need—"

Logan pulled back and thrust forward again, setting a steady rhythm that had you seeing stars. Each stroke hit something deep inside you that made pleasure spark through your whole body. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he fucked into you with increasing force.

"That's it," he growled, watching your face contort with pleasure. "Take it, Y/N. Take all of me."

Your nails raked down his back as the pressure built inside you again. Logan's thrusts grew harder, faster, driving you both toward the edge. The headboard banged against the wall with each movement but neither of you cared about the noise.

"Logan," you gasped, feeling yourself getting close. "I'm gonna—ah!"

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice rough. One hand slid between your bodies to rub your clit. "Want to feel you come on my cock."

The added stimulation pushed you over the edge. You came with a cry, your body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Logan growled, his rhythm faltering as your walls pulsed around him.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his thrusts growing erratic. "Where do you want—"

"Inside," you gasped, still riding the aftershocks. "Please, Logan. Wanna feel you."

He cursed, his hips snapping forward a few more times before he buried himself deep with a growl, spilling inside you. You could feel him pulsing, filling you up as he collapsed onto his forearms above you.

For several long moments, the only sound was your heavy breathing. Logan's forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as he caught his breath. You ran your hands up and down his back, feeling the sweat-slick skin under your palms.

Finally, he pulled out carefully and rolled onto his side, pulling you with him. You winced slightly at the soreness between your legs, but it was a good kind of ache. Logan's arms wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest.

---

Logan let out a low groan as he woke, the bed beneath him feeling far too comfortable, unfamiliar in a way that immediately set him on edge. It took a second for his mind to catch up, piecing together where he was and, more importantly, who he was with.

He didn’t need to look over to feel the warmth beside him, or the way your hair fanned out across the pillow. It hit him all at once—the heat of your skin against his, the way you’d leaned into him last night, confident, unrestrained. He opened his eyes, gaze finding you lying beside him, face soft and peaceful in sleep, an arm draped over his chest as if you’d claimed him in the night.

Logan sighed, glancing at the ceiling, but couldn’t help looking down at you again, still asleep and blissfully unaware of the storm in his head. He’d known it was a bad idea from the start, coming upstairs with you last night, letting his guard down. But damn, when you’d gotten close, pushing him toward that chair with that look in your eyes—he’d been gone the second you’d touched him.

He was even further gone when he had finally kissed you—it was one of his biggest regrets the last time he had seen you back in 1943—he never held you the way he wanted to. Too afraid that maybe he was the problem, the reason you kept on dying over and over.

And because of that, he hadn’t been this close to you since 1900.

It was strange, being here like this—letting his guard down after all those lives, all those memories of watching you fade out of his reach. A part of him had always tried to keep a distance, to save himself from the heartbreak he knew was coming. But last night… last night, he’d been weak.

He brushed a thumb over your arm without thinking, lost in thought. It was impossible not to wonder, with you lying beside him like this, what it would be like if this time were different. If, just once, he could hold onto you, let himself believe you’d stay.

But he knew better.

His hand lingered on your skin a moment too long, and he felt you stir, your lashes fluttering as you slowly opened your eyes. A soft smile touched your lips when you saw him, and he felt his resolve crack just a little more.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, his voice rougher than he’d meant.

“Mmm,” you hummed, still sleepy, your fingers tracing a lazy pattern over his chest. “Didn’t think you’d still be here.” You said it lightly, but there was a hint of something else there—relief, maybe. “Guess I finally wore you out.”

Logan huffed, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Guess so.”

You shifted to look at him, your eyes bright with that familiar mischief. “So, what’s your excuse this time?”

He raised a brow. “Excuse?”

“Yeah. For pulling away,” you said, your tone casual but pointed. “You’ve always got one.”

Logan’s jaw clenched slightly, and he broke eye contact, looking away. “It’s complicated, Y/N.”

You reached up, cupping his face and guiding his gaze back to you. “That’s what you always say. Doesn’t mean it has to be.”

He was silent for a moment, searching your face. He could feel the weight of his past with you, all those memories stacking up like a dam holding back a flood. But he couldn’t let you in on that. Couldn’t make you carry the burden of knowing you’d lived—and died—so many times before. It was his cross to bear, not yours.

“Maybe I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he finally said, his voice quieter, a touch raw.

You let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Please, Logan. You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

Logan just shook his head, but he couldn’t help the small, amused smile that crept onto his face. “You’re a handful, you know that?”

“I’ve heard that once or twice,” you teased, running your hand along his chest. “Lucky for you, I don’t scare easy.”

That hint of defiance in your voice tugged at something deep inside him, and he caught your hand, holding it in his as he looked into your eyes. “You say that now. But I’ve got a way of… complicating things.”

Your gaze softened, but there was still a spark there, unyielding. “Good thing I like complicated.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, and for a second, he felt that familiar pull, the urge to tell you everything—to let you in on the truth of why he was here, why he couldn’t stay away. But he stopped himself, the weight of all those lost lifetimes bearing down on him again. He couldn’t do that to you, not this time.

“Then I guess I’m stuck with you,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, even though his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.

“Guess so,” you replied with a grin, shifting closer. You tilted your head, eyes narrowing as you studied him. “Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you ever gonna stop acting like you’re some kind of curse?” Your voice was soft but firm, like you were daring him to argue.

Logan went silent, his gaze flickering away from yours. You’d hit closer to the truth than you knew.

“Don’t know if I can,” he admitted after a pause. “It’s… complicated.” He shrugged, hoping you’d leave it at that.

But, of course, you didn’t. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep proving you wrong,” you murmured, pressing a light kiss to his jaw, a warm reassurance that only made him feel the pull of his past even stronger.

He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes, letting himself savor this one small, stolen moment with you. Just this once, he’d allow himself that. Because deep down, he knew he’d always lose you in the end.

And this time, he was determined to make it last as long as he could. Maybe, just maybe, even put that ring to use.

---

You were back at the dog shelter, this time staying a little bit longer since one of the workers, Amelia, was out sick.

Lorraine handed you a few leashes, “mind taking some of ‘em out for a walk?”

You happily grabbed the roped leashes, “of course.” Then you glanced over at Logan, who had been eyeing the dogs with a mix of amusement and reservation. “You up for walkin’ some too?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, then at the leashes in your hand, but there was a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Didn’t take you for a dog wrangler, Y/N.”

You laughed, clipping one of the leashes onto a small brown mutt who was practically bouncing with excitement. “Come on, Logan. What’re you afraid of? They don’t bite—well, not all of them, anyway.”

Logan chuckled, reluctantly stepping forward. “Right. Long as they don’t try to drag me down the street.”

You handed him a leash attached to a shaggy, medium-sized dog with big brown eyes, looking up at him expectantly. “Here. This one’s named Ringo. He’s a sweetheart.”

Logan eyed the dog suspiciously before giving the leash a little tug, testing the waters. “Ringo, huh?” He knelt down and patted the dog’s head, a faint smile crossing his face as the dog leaned into his touch. “Guess you’re alright.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “See? He likes you already.” As you finished leashing up a few more of the dogs, you handed the leashes to Logan. “Think you can handle these guys too?”

Logan took the leashes without complaint, looking down at the little group of dogs at his feet. “Guess I don’t have much choice.”

“Good answer,” you teased, giving him a wink before heading toward the door. You led the way outside, the two of you walking side-by-side with the dogs trotting happily along. It was a warm day, and the sun was shining down, casting a soft glow over everything.

Logan glanced over at you as you moved down the sidewalk together, the dogs tugging excitedly at their leashes. You had a carefree smile on your face, and he found himself watching you more than the path ahead, the memory of a few nights ago still vivid in his mind. The thought of it sent a thrill through him—yet at the same time, a pang of dread.

“You always this happy walking dogs, or is it just ‘cause I’m here?” he teased, a little smirk tugging at his lips.

You shot him a playful look. “Guess you’ll never know.” You nudged him lightly with your shoulder, eyes bright with mischief. “But if you keep coming with me, you might find out.”

He let out a small laugh, his gaze softening as he looked away. Even after all these years, you could still surprise him—like the way you’d drag him to places like this or the way you talked about the little things with such enthusiasm. It was one of those qualities he remembered about you from lifetimes ago, and it hadn’t changed. It made him feel like maybe, somehow, this was different.

As you walked a little further, one of the dogs—a scruffy little terrier—yipped and tugged at Logan’s leash, trying to chase after a pigeon. He grunted, holding the leash tightly and muttering, “Settle down, mutt. You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

You laughed, glancing over with an amused smile. “Ringo’s got more energy than you’d think, huh?”

Logan shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, well, maybe I should be takin’ notes from him.” He looked at you then, and his expression softened. “You’ve really got a thing for these dogs, don’t ya?”

Your smile faded into something more thoughtful as you looked down at the furry pack in front of you. “I dunno. I guess they’re just… easy to be around. They don’t care about who my father is or what I do—they just want someone to be with them, you know?”

Logan nodded, watching the way you interacted with the dogs, your fingers lightly brushing over their heads, your voice soft as you spoke to them. You’d always had that kindness about you, that gentleness that made him want to believe in something better, something… safe.

“You’re good with ‘em,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You looked up at him, a smile in your eyes. “You know, you’re not so bad with them either, Logan.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, I think I’ll leave the dog-wranglin’ to you.”

For a while, you walked in comfortable silence, the bustling city around you fading into the background as you wandered through the neighborhood with the dogs. Finally, you reached a small park, and you stopped to let the dogs sniff around.

As they explored, you took a seat on a nearby bench, patting the spot beside you. Logan hesitated for a second before joining you, stretching his legs out in front of him.

You looked over at him, your expression soft. “Thanks for coming today. I know this probably isn’t your ideal way to spend an afternoon.”

Logan shrugged, trying to act casual, but he couldn’t hide the warmth in his gaze. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna be,” he said, his voice low.

The sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat, and you looked away, feeling a little bashful. You fiddled with one of the leashes, clearing your throat. “You know… the more time we spend together, the more I wonder how long you’re planning to stick around.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered his answer. He wanted to tell you the truth—that he’d been watching you, waiting for you, for so many lifetimes. But he couldn’t. Instead, he reached out, his hand covering yours where it rested on the bench.

“As long as you’ll have me,” he said quietly.

The words hung between you, and for a moment, it was like the whole world had faded away. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his, trying to read the depths of his expression.

A soft smile touched your lips, and you squeezed his hand. “Then you’re gonna be around for a long time, Logan.”

He felt a strange, hopeful ache in his chest at your words, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, this time, things could be different.

The dogs barked, breaking the spell, and you both laughed, pulling away as you got up to wrangle them again. But even as you continued on your walk, he stayed close by your side, his hand occasionally brushing yours as you walked—almost as if he was reminding himself that you were real, that you were here with him.

---

Late one night, you lay beside Logan in the dim light filtering through the window, the city’s night sounds a steady hum in the distance. Your head rested on his chest, your fingers tracing lazy circles over the skin above his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath your touch.

Logan shifted slightly, his hand coming up to rest gently on your back. For a long time, he just lay there, watching you in silence, his thumb brushing along your spine. You could tell he was relaxed, but there was something else—a quiet intensity in the way his gaze lingered on you, a heaviness in the air that made your heart race.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” you murmured, letting your fingers trail up to his collarbone. You glanced up at him, catching the faintest hint of a smile as he met your eyes.

“Just… wonderin’ how I got roped into all this,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. But the glint in his eyes gave him away, and you saw something softer there.

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem like you mind too much.” You smirked, giving his chest a light pat. “I’d almost say you’re gettin’ attached.”

He snorted, pulling you a little closer, his arm tightening around you. “Could say the same for you,” he replied, his voice low, almost teasing. “You’re insatiable, y’know that?”

You laughed, and the sound was soft in the quiet room. “You’re the one who keeps showin’ up, Logan. If you wanted me to behave, you’d stay away.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe I don’t want you to behave.”

Your fingers stilled on his chest, and you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “So you like me like this, then? A little reckless… a little spoiled?” you teased.

He chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Think I do.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you settled back against his chest, letting your hand rest over his heart. For a while, neither of you said anything, the silence comfortable, his warmth grounding you. It was a rare kind of peace—one that you’d come to cherish whenever you were with him.

But then, curiosity got the better of you, and you lifted your head, giving him a thoughtful look. “Logan,” you began, your voice hesitant. “How long are you gonna stick around? I mean… I know my dad thinks you’re just here for protection, but… it feels like more than that.”

Logan’s gaze darkened, a flash of something unreadable passing over his face. He glanced away, his jaw tensing as he seemed to search for the right words. “As long as you want me here, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

The weight of his words hung between you, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Then don’t,” you whispered, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I don’t want you to.”

He didn’t say anything in response, but his hand slipped up to cup the back of your head, pulling you down into a slow, lingering kiss. There was something different about it this time, a quiet desperation that made your pulse quicken, like he was trying to hold on to this moment, to keep it from slipping away.

When you finally pulled back, you searched his eyes, wondering what was going through his mind. “You’re not gonna let me go, are you?”

A small smile tugged at his lips, though his gaze was still shadowed. “Not a chance, darlin’.”

You felt a surge of affection for him then, this man who’d somehow become both your protector and your closest confidant. He was rough around the edges, guarded and distant with everyone else—but with you, he was different. You brought out a softness in him, a warmth that felt as though it had been buried for a long, long time.

Without thinking, you reached up and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, your fingertips lingering against his skin. “You know, for a guy who’s supposed to be my bodyguard, you’re doing a terrible job at keeping things professional,” you teased, though there was no bite in your words.

Logan let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re the one makin’ things complicated, Y/N.”

“Maybe.” You smirked, your fingers still tracing over his chest. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

He looked at you then, something fierce in his eyes, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the man he’d been—a man who’d loved and lost, who’d carried scars from lifetimes past. You wondered if he would ever tell you his story, if he would ever let you in on the secrets he guarded so closely.

But for now, you were content with the silence, with the feel of his heartbeat beneath your hand, with the quiet reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.

As the night wore on, you lay there together, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading away. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

---

Your father had asked you to come to his office in the spacious house. At first it was nothing but muffled voices from outside the door, until Logan heard your father speak again, for a longer period of time, causing your own voice to rise.

While Logan couldn’t make out the words you were saying even with his enhanced hearing, he could tell you weren’t happy. Your voice carried that sharp edge you only got when something really struck a nerve, and judging by the way you didn’t hold back, it had to be serious.

Logan lingered just outside the heavy, mahogany door of your father’s office, his fists clenched as he heard your voice rising behind it. It was clear you were upset, and whatever was being discussed inside, you didn’t like it. He’d seen you frustrated, angry even, but never like this—there was a desperation in your tone that sent a chill through him.

Moments later, the door flew open, and you stormed out, cheeks flushed with anger, eyes flashing as you spotted him. You barely paused, brushing past him, but Logan caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low. “What happened?”

You turned to face him, anger and hurt swirling in your eyes. “He’s… he’s marrying me off, Logan. To that family. After everything he promised me—he said he’d never force me into something like this.”

Logan’s expression hardened. “What are you talkin’ about? He can’t just… marry you off like some kind of deal.”

Your hands were shaking as you brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, struggling to keep your composure. “Apparently, he can. There’s been this feud with the Romano family for years, and he says this is the only way to keep the peace. To protect me. Protect us.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. He felt a familiar anger rising in him, a deep, protective instinct he’d been fighting to keep under wraps. “So, he’s just gonna throw you into a marriage you don’t want? You don’t even know this guy, do you?”

You shook your head, looking away. “I met him once. He was… polite enough. But that’s not the point, Logan. I don’t want to marry him—or anyone like this. My father always said he’d let me choose, that he wouldn’t… sell me off.” The bitterness in your tone stung, your gaze distant as if replaying the conversation.

Logan searched your face, feeling an ache he couldn’t put into words. “And he knows how you feel about this?”

You swallowed, nodding. “I told him, but he says I don’t understand the bigger picture, that this is what’s best for everyone.” You gave a hollow laugh, looking down. “For everyone but me.”

He felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was just a bodyguard, technically part of the arrangement meant to keep you safe from any threats. But you were more than just a job to him, and the thought of you being forced into something like this made his blood boil. He let out a rough breath, stepping closer. “Y/N, you don’t have to go along with this. Not if you don’t want to.”

Your gaze softened as you looked up at him. “And what am I supposed to do, Logan? Run off in the middle of the night?” You gave a small, bitter smile. “I don’t even know where I’d go.”

He didn’t hesitate, his voice dropping low. “Then we go together. If you don’t wanna go through with this, we’ll figure somethin’ else out.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, the anger and hurt seemed to fade, replaced by something warmer, more uncertain. “You’d really… leave everything?”

He shrugged, almost nonchalant, but there was a fierce determination in his eyes. “I got no reason to stay here if you’re not here, too.”

You hesitated, torn between the depth of his offer and the weight of the decision you knew would follow. Finally, you gave a small nod, as if grounding yourself in the moment. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, Logan, but… I just need to know you’re here. That I’m not going through this alone.”

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, Y/N. You got my word on that.”

There was a silence between you, thick and charged, each of you processing the weight of everything unsaid. His gaze stayed locked on yours, and for a moment, the anger and fear in your eyes softened, replaced by something closer to relief. And then, almost impulsively, you took his hand, squeezing it tight.

“Thank you, Logan. I… I needed to hear that,” you said softly, glancing away before meeting his gaze again, vulnerability written all over your face. “Just… don’t let go, okay?”

He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not a chance, darlin’.”

---

Nancy was doing your hair once again for the dinner with the Romano family. You had tried everything over the past few weeks, trying to convince your father that this didn’t have to happen. That he promised you he would never do this.

But no matter what you did, he was firm in his stance, "you're getting married to Clyde, and that's final."

You sat still, staring at your reflection in the mirror as Nancy pinned up the last of your curls. Your face looked composed, serene even, but beneath it, there was a storm brewing—a knot of anger and dread you couldn’t shake. Every time you thought about that dinner tonight, your stomach twisted. Clyde Romano. A stranger. And yet, your father had decided this was your future, and nothing you said seemed to change his mind.

Nancy, sensing the tension, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It’ll be alright, Y/N. You’ll be surrounded by family."

Family. Right. But none of them seemed to understand how trapped you felt. You forced a tight-lipped smile, nodding. "Thanks, Nancy."

As she stepped back, there was a light knock at the door. You turned to see Logan standing there, looking slightly uncomfortable in his formal attire but as steadfast as ever. His gaze softened as he took in your appearance, though he quickly masked it.

"Didn’t mean to interrupt," he said, glancing between you and Nancy. "Just wanted to make sure you’re ready."

Nancy finished adjusting your hair and excused herself, leaving you alone with Logan. You looked at him, searching his face, hoping for some kind of lifeline.

"Logan," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I’m being dragged somewhere I can’t escape from."

He stepped closer, his expression darkening as he listened. “You’re not alone in this, Y/N. You know I’m with you, whatever you decide.” His hand reached out, brushing against your arm, his touch grounding you.

You drew in a shaky breath, steadying yourself. “What if I decide to just… disappear?” you asked, half-joking but mostly serious.

Logan’s eyes met yours, and you saw the unspoken resolve there. “Then I’ll be right behind you. Doesn’t matter where.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe it—that you could simply run, with Logan at your side. But reality crashed back in, and you dropped your gaze.

"I wish it were that simple," you whispered, clenching your fists. "But if I leave, it could tear everything apart."

Logan’s hand settled over yours, his grip firm and reassuring. "Then we make it through tonight. And tomorrow, we figure out the rest. You’re not facing this alone, darlin’. Not as long as I’m here."

You looked up at him, finding strength in his gaze. He’d been your rock through all of this, his presence steady and unwavering. And tonight, that was what you needed most.

“Alright,” you murmured, giving him a small, grateful smile. “Let’s go face this… together.”

He nodded, his grip on your hand a silent promise. Whatever came next, you knew he’d be there, just as he always had been. And with that thought, you found the courage to head downstairs to face your family—and the Romanos—one more time.

---

The dinner was at an Italian restaurant, one your father owned as cover for his business. Your dad sat at the head of the table while Clyde’s father sat at the other end. In front of you was your uncle Ermanno, who was also your dad’s consigliere, while Clyde sat next to you.

Logan, along with the other bodyguards, stood watch at the entrance of the private dining room, their silent gazes sweeping the place. He wore his usual hard expression, though his eyes softened just a touch when they found you across the room. He’d been watching you all night—catching every little shift, each moment you looked down or forced a smile, every subtle tightening of your hand on the tablecloth.

Clyde Romano leaned in a little closer, his arm casually brushing against yours as he tried to make small talk. "So, Y/N, I hear you’ve been helping out at a shelter?"

You nodded, barely meeting his eyes. “Yeah, I volunteer with the dogs mostly. It’s…nice to get away from all this sometimes.” You forced a smile, trying to keep things polite. You could feel your father’s gaze on you, watching for any misstep.

Clyde smiled back, but it felt too rehearsed. “Well, once we’re married, you won’t have to worry about shelters or anything like that. You’ll have enough responsibilities as a Romano.”

You felt your stomach twist at his words. Logan’s gaze sharpened from across the room as he picked up on the slight shift in your expression. You shot him a quick look, your eyes pleading for any kind of rescue. Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, he almost looked like he’d step in. But he stayed put, his hands clenched behind his back.

Instead, he looked for the smallest opening. Just as Clyde’s attention was pulled away by his father, Logan slipped into view, leaning down beside you. “You alright?” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

“Not even close,” you whispered back, your eyes fixed on your glass. “He’s already talking about our future like… like it’s set in stone.”

Logan’s eyes flickered with something fierce. “We’ll get through this, Y/N. Tonight’s just another show. Nothing more.” His fingers brushed the back of your chair, the barely-there touch sending a wave of calm through you.

But Clyde’s voice cut back in before Logan could say anything more. “Y/N, we were thinking of heading to Italy for the honeymoon. It’ll be a good chance to meet the rest of the family there.”

Your heart sank further. Italy. An entire ocean away, away from everything you knew, from everyone who mattered to you. “Italy,” you echoed, your voice strained but steady.

“Yeah. The Romano estates are beautiful—beaches, vineyards… a real paradise.” He seemed oblivious to your hesitation, already dreaming up plans you’d had no say in. Your father looked pleased, nodding his approval from his end of the table.

Logan straightened, but the look he gave you was unmistakable: You don’t have to do this.

You swallowed, shifting in your seat as Clyde rambled on. When his focus shifted to his own father again, you leaned back just enough to whisper to Logan, “I’m not sure I can keep pretending.”

Logan’s expression softened, and for a second, he let a hint of his guard down. “You don’t have to, darlin’.” His voice was low, almost tender, meant for you alone. “Say the word, and we walk outta here. Right now.”

The thought made your heart skip, but your gaze drifted toward your father, seated across the table with a look of satisfaction. Leaving wasn’t just about you; it would mean defying him, challenging the life he’d molded for you. The thought felt like a mountain on your shoulders.

“I can’t just walk away,” you said quietly. “He’s… he’d never forgive me.”

Logan’s hand brushed yours under the table, a quiet show of support. “Maybe he’s the one who should be asking for forgiveness,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a light circle over your knuckles. The warmth of his touch settled something in you, steadying your breath.

You gave a tiny nod, squeezing his hand for just a second before pulling away. Logan straightened, stepping back to his post but still keeping his gaze on you. Clyde was oblivious, caught up in a conversation with his father about future business plans, each word feeling like a nail in the coffin.

Dinner dragged on, a blur of forced laughter and stiff conversation. Every time you felt yourself sinking, you looked toward Logan. He was there, solid and watchful, like a silent promise of something real in a room full of facades.

Eventually, the families began to wind down, talk shifting to more casual chatter. Clyde, emboldened by the night’s success, reached over and took your hand, his grip possessive. “Soon, you’ll be part of the family, Y/N. You’ll see. You’ll come to love it.”

Your mind screamed at the thought, every fiber of you wanting to pull away. But you held still, not daring to make a scene. Logan’s gaze narrowed, his jaw set as he took in the sight of Clyde’s hand around yours.

Finally, as the night came to an end and the families started to stand, Clyde leaned in with a smug smile. “Ready to go? I thought we’d take a walk, just the two of us.”

Before you could answer, Logan was there, stepping in with a casual yet firm presence. “Mr. Romano,” he said, addressing Clyde but looking right at you, “your father asked to speak with you in private before you head out.”

Clyde frowned but nodded, reluctantly releasing your hand. “I’ll be back soon, Y/N.” He disappeared toward the far end of the room, leaving you alone with Logan.

You let out a slow breath, the tension finally loosening from your shoulders. “Thank you,” you whispered, looking up at him, gratitude spilling from every word.

Logan gave a slight nod. “Couldn’t let him drag you out there without a say.” His voice was rough, but his eyes softened as he held your gaze. “You’re not alone in this, Y/N. Whatever happens… you got me.”

The weight of the night lifted just a little, and for a moment, you almost believed you had a choice in all of this.

---

“A week?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood in your father’s office. The weight of the word seemed to pull you under, even as you fought to keep your voice steady.

Your father’s expression was impassive, arms crossed as he looked at you. “Yes, Y/N. The Romano family wants to move quickly. They think it’s best, and I agree. It’s time you take on this responsibility for the family.”

Your jaw clenched. You remembered the promises he made, back when you were younger, that he’d never force you into something like this. “I just… I don’t understand. You always said—”

“People change, Y/N,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “This is what’s best for you and for us. For the family.”

You shook your head, feeling a rush of helplessness. “And what about what I want? I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks that I don’t want this, and you’re not listening.”

He exhaled sharply, the kind of sigh that signaled his patience was running thin. “This isn’t about what you want. I didn’t raise you to be selfish.”

“Selfish?” The word stung, and you couldn’t help the surge of anger that rose within you. “I’m asking for my life. How is that selfish?”

He frowned, unyielding. “Enough, Y/N. This is happening. We’re done discussing it.”

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to stay composed. The walls of the office seemed to close in on you, the reality of it settling heavy and cold. You had a week—seven days—to either submit to this life he’d chosen for you or… what? You didn’t even know.

Without another word, you turned and left, fighting the urge to slam the door behind you. The hall felt stifling as you walked out, your thoughts churning.

When you reached your room, Logan was there, waiting. The moment he saw your face, he stiffened. “What happened?” His voice was a low rumble, the concern clear.

“A week,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “I have a week before he marries me off to Clyde.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and you could see the flash of anger in his eyes. He stepped closer, his hand moving to rest on your shoulder. “So that’s it, then? He’s just… throwing you to that bastard?”

You nodded, the words catching in your throat. “I don’t know what to do, Logan. I tried everything, but he won’t listen. He’s set on it.”

Logan’s hand slipped down, finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze, his rough fingers warm and grounding. You tightened your grip, the frustration and helplessness boiling inside you finally having somewhere to go.

“I’m supposed to just go along with it,” you muttered, bitterness seeping into your words. “Act like I’m thrilled to be Clyde’s obedient little wife. Like my life’s just… his to take.”

Logan’s gaze darkened. “It’s not. You know that. And anyone who tries to take it without your say? They got me to deal with.” His voice was low and dangerous, a promise just for you.

You looked up, searching his face, a flicker of hope stirring. “But what can we do, Logan? He’s not going to listen to me. And if I push back too hard… I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“Then let me get you out of here,” Logan said, leaning in closer. His voice softened, gentler now. “We can leave, right now if you want. Just say the word.”

Your heart twisted painfully, the temptation so fierce you almost said yes then and there. But reality clawed its way back, the weight of your father’s expectations and the tight grip he kept on every part of your life. Leaving would mean giving up everything—and, deep down, you weren’t sure you could risk it.

“What about my dad?” you whispered, feeling the weight of it pressing down again. “He’s… he’d see it as betrayal, Logan. And what if he goes after you?”

A flicker of something familiar crossed Logan’s face, a shadow from a life you couldn’t remember but that he clearly did. “Y/N, don’t worry about me,” he murmured. “Been through worse.” He squeezed your hand a little tighter, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture so tender it nearly undid you. “And if he’s got a problem, then he can take it up with me.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the anger and fear give way just a bit. “You say that now, but you haven’t seen how he gets when people cross him. He’d never forgive me, Logan. He’d never forgive us.”

Logan’s hand moved to cup your face, his touch steadying you as his eyes met yours. “Then we don’t need his forgiveness. We get you out, and I keep you safe. Whatever comes after, we face it together.”

The fierce certainty in his voice sent a warmth flooding through you, your resolve hardening under his gaze. “But Clyde, the Romano’s… they won’t just let it go.”

A smirk tugged at Logan’s mouth, the edge of defiance clear. “Then they’ll learn what happens when they mess with you. Ain’t nobody’s right to take away your freedom, Y/N. Not your old man, not Clyde, not anyone.”

A beat of silence stretched between you, his hand still warm against your cheek. Your fingers tightened around his, and for a second, all the anger and dread faded, leaving just you and him in the quiet of the room.

“What about… us?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and for a second, you held your breath, waiting for his reaction.

Logan’s eyes softened, his gaze never leaving yours. “What about us, darlin’?” He brushed a thumb along your cheek, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You think I’d just leave you here to face this on your own?”

His words sent a rush of warmth through you, and before you knew it, you were leaning into him, his presence steady and unshakable. He let out a low sigh, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer, his other hand tracing gentle circles over your back.

“You’re all I’ve got in this,” you whispered, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I can’t lose you, too.”

“You won’t,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his hold tightening just enough to reassure you. “Not now, not ever.”

You stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in his embrace, the weight of everything slipping away in his arms. But eventually, reality crept back in, and you pulled back, catching the flicker of resolve in his gaze.

“If we do this…” You paused, steadying yourself. “If we leave, we need a plan.”

Logan gave a small nod, his hand still resting on yours. “We’ll figure it out. Tonight, we’re just gettin’ you through this.”

It was a promise, simple and unbreakable, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of hope stirring deep inside you.

---

The rehearsal dinner was held in a private room at the church a few days later; a grand, echoing place with gilded walls and tall stained-glass windows that cast colored light over everything. Clyde, his parents, and your family were all gathered, discussing wedding arrangements like it was a done deal, each word chipping away at any illusion of control you had left.

Logan and the other bodyguards stood at a respectful distance, keeping watch. He tried to keep his gaze neutral, but his eyes lingered on you longer than necessary, catching every forced smile and stiff nod you gave.

As the minister went through the motions, you and Clyde practiced exchanging vows. You held his hands, repeating words that felt like a foreign language—lifeless, meaningless. Your eyes drifted toward Logan, and he gave you the barest nod, grounding you with that single, unspoken promise.

After the vows, Clyde leaned in close, his voice low and smug. “I think you’ll come to love our life together, Y/N. Just give it time.”

You forced a polite smile, biting back the words you wanted to say. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Logan clench his fists, his face darkening.

Finally, as the rehearsal ended and people began drifting off, you made your way to a quiet corner, needing a moment alone. Logan slipped over to you, his movements subtle as he came to stand beside you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice softer now that it was just the two of you.

You shook your head, feeling that familiar knot of dread twist tighter. “Logan, I don’t think I can go through with this. But I don’t know if I can run, either. I’m… I’m stuck.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze intense as he looked down at you. “What if I told you that you didn’t have to decide tonight?” he asked quietly. “That we could just… take it one day at a time. You don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

The tension in your shoulders eased a bit, and you met his eyes, finding strength in the certainty there. He wasn’t pushing you, wasn’t forcing anything on you. He was just… here, with you, in whatever way you needed.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding slowly. “One day at a time.”

Logan gave a small, reassuring smile. “That’s all we need, darlin’.” His hand brushed your shoulder, lingering just a second longer than necessary before he stepped back.

---

The day of the wedding had arrived, and you were dolled up, your makeup and hair were perfect, and your wedding dress was heavy, constricting, and large.

Once the makeup artists and hair stylists left, you had fled to the bathroom in the bridal suite and were currently hunched over the toilet. You hadn’t thrown up—yet—but you could feel the nausea and anxiousness rising.

You braced yourself against the counter, taking deep breaths as you tried to calm the twisting feeling in your stomach. The dress felt like a vice, heavy and restrictive, pressing on every nerve, suffocating in a way that went beyond fabric and lace. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping the queasiness would pass.

A knock at the door pulled you from the spinning in your head.

“Y/N?” Nancy’s soft, steady voice filtered through, full of that motherly concern you’d come to rely on all your life.

You took a steadying breath, swallowing hard before calling out, “Come in, Nancy.”

The door creaked open, and Nancy stepped inside, closing it quietly behind her. Her gaze immediately softened as she took in the look on your face, her expression a mix of sympathy and something else—resolve, maybe.

“Oh, cara mia,” she murmured, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t look well. This whole business—it’s too much, isn’t it?”

You managed a shaky nod. “I… I don’t know if I can do this, Nancy. Every time I think about it, I just…” You trailed off, not sure how to put into words the suffocating dread that had settled over you.

She gave you a small, encouraging squeeze. “You know,” she said quietly, “there are other paths besides the one your father chose for you. And you don’t have to walk it alone.”

Your heart skipped at her words. “You… you’d help me? Even if I…?”

Nancy nodded, a spark of fierce protectiveness in her eyes. “Logan’s already got your things in his car,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you’re ready to go, he’s waiting.”

You blinked back tears before grabbing one of her hands, “y- you want me to go?”

“SÌ. Your father is a bastardo, breaking that promise him and your mother made.” She squeezed your hand, “Logan’s a good man. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He won’t let you down.”

You swallowed hard, Nancy’s words settling like a quiet fire in your chest. She was right. Your father had broken his promise, and you didn’t owe him your life just because he controlled every other part of it.

With a shaky exhale, you gave her a nod. “Alright… I’ll go.”

Nancy’s face softened, relief mingling with pride. “Good girl. Now, take this.” She pressed a small envelope into your hand. “Cash. Just in case.”

You looked down at it, blinking back tears. “Thank you, Nancy. For everything.”

She pulled you into a hug, her hand stroking your back gently. “Go, cara mia. Go live your life.” She pulled back, eyes glinting with fierce determination. “And don’t look back.”

You nodded, holding onto that resolve as you slipped out of the bathroom and made your way down the hall, heart pounding. Every step felt heavier, weighed down by fear and the voice in the back of your mind that told you this was dangerous, reckless. But when you stepped outside and saw Logan waiting by his car, the weight lifted.

He looked up, his gaze intense but soft, like he’d been waiting for this moment just as long as you had. “You ready?”

You hesitated, just for a moment, before giving him a small nod. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

Logan opened the passenger door for you, helping you in, his hand lingering on yours for a second longer than necessary. He closed the door, then climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the engine with a low rumble that matched the pulse pounding in your ears.

As he pulled out of the church’s parking lot, the weight of the decision hit you again. You were leaving everything behind—the security, the expectations, the people who’d shaped your entire life. But with each passing second, the fear melted away, replaced by a strange, liberating sense of excitement.

Logan glanced over, noticing the small smile tugging at your lips. “You don’t look so panicked now.”

You shook your head, unable to hide your grin. “I’m not. Not with you here.”

He gave a soft chuckle, that familiar warmth in his gaze. “Good. Because we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

You settled back, feeling more at ease than you’d felt in months. There was silence for a moment, comfortable and charged, before you turned to him, voice barely a whisper.

“Where are we going?”

Logan smirked. “Anywhere but here.”

You laughed softly, relaxing into your seat. The road stretched ahead, open and endless, and for the first time in a long while, the future felt like something you could shape.

logan is 141 years old and reader is around 23-25 years old

what!? is that a happy ending? who would've thought... next up, is origins!

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time #logan ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ #abby's works ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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shouyuus · 5 months ago

Note

hello, i think u are WONDERFUL !

i adore your writing. if possible - can you please write some vi x reader with lots of pining? i need pining! vi and her figuring out reader is into girls. i need denial, i need her confiding in vander or jayce or whomever, i need whatever your beautiful brain can come up with !

a series of firsts

violet; very slightly nsfw (mentions of sex, but no actual smut), fluff, slight angst, and so much pining; college roommate!vi au

the first time she breaks your heart, she has no idea she's done it -- has no clue about the hairline fracture that cracks into the thumping thing in your chest when she smiles and nods and tells you that you're a great friend.

the first time you break hers, well... you see it happen, in the infinitesimal pause just before you turn, before you leave. though, not for the last time. her smile falters for just a second as you hug her and turn away, saying --

"thanks for always being here, vi."

you do not say goodbye.

the first time she realizes you're into girls, she spends a whole night lying awake in her bed, fancying that she'd be able to hear your steady breathing on the opposite side of the wall if she just held still enough. that maybe, if she closed her eyes and tried to keep her breathing in sync with yours, that somehow, as if by magic, she'd be able to peer into the ephemeral windows of your dreams, see what you see, and for once stop wondering how you might be seeing her -- in the end, she couldn't hear anything but the frantic murmuring of her own over-excited heartbeat.

the first time you truly hear her fucking yet another one night stand (or perhaps her flavor of the week, so you hear the rugby team calls it), you tell yourself that the ache in your belly does not taste like longing. and yet, you can't help but wonder how her name might taste on your lips, pleasure soaking through all it's vowels.

the first time you almost kiss, it is at a frat party -- the both of you drunk, the music too loud, the air thick with sweat and cheap whiskey. she's laughing, her grin so easy that you're laughing too, pulled into the spin of her, unbidden, drawn in by her innate magnetism. it's not the first time you've lost yourself at a dance, but it is the first time you've found yourself anchored to the heat of vi's palms on your hips. your lips are so close that the gasping breath between you is more kiss than not but -- then the music ends, and you blink.

and vi is pulling away.

the next morning, neither of you talk about it. she hands you a warm glass of milk and an ibuprofen, and you cast her a grateful grin.

"thanks."

"no worries, cupcake."

you pause, cocking your head, "is that what you call all your --" you wave a hand vaguely through the air.

vi's eyebrows tick up, "all my...?"

you sigh, dropping your eyes back down to your half-finished milk, considering the opaque white depths before taking another long sip. vi drops into the seat next to you, leaning back just far enough to balance on two legs.

"what? don't like sharing?" she smirks.

you roll your eyes, wincing as pain lances through your head.

"nevermind -- i'm gonna get back in bed... i don't have morning lecture today so."

you push up from your seat and vi watches you, her eyes altogether too sharp for a "morning after". she lets her chair drop back down with a loud clack, calling after you --

"sweet dreams, princess."

you pause at your door, but you don't look back at her. a beat.

"you too, vi."

the first time you realize it's been months since she's brought someone home, you're giddy for a week, humming as you dance through the apartment, doing laundry when you don't have to, making breakfast and buying vi's favorite brand of hot sauce for her eggs.

"all this for me, sweet cheeks?" vi asks, grinning as you set down a plate in front of her, on a rare saturday morning when she hasn't got practice, and you don't have any kind of study group.

you shrug, dropping into the seat adjacent to hers.

"just had extra," you say.

vi chuckles, shoveling a large spoonful into her mouth, "yeah? of all my favorites? "

you crinkle your nose, slicing through your own sunny side up egg and sprinkling the top with salt and pepper.

"something like that."

you don't look at her; she never stops looking at you.

neither of you mention it the next saturday when you do the same. and then the next after that, until it becomes habit. until it becomes something almost sacred -- saturday mornings, the two of you, sharing breakfast and laughter smeared across fresh toast. there's yogurt and berries and stupid stories from the week before.

the first time vi calls powder, she laughs in vi's face.

"wow, i haven't seen you this whipped since that one soccer chick who replaced you with that weird ginger from the poly-sci department."

"shut up --"

"i'm just sayin' -- seems like you're already in pretty deep, and if she's makin' you breakfast every saturday then..." powder shrugs, grinning through the phone screen, "seems like she's pretty fuckin' whipped too."

vi groans, burying her face in her arms.

"yeah... that's what people keep telling me but..."

"but nothin' -- just ask her out! what's the worst thing --"

"uh, we're roommates. i really don't wanna make things awkward if we're stuck in this lease together for the next --"

"or. you could spend the next six months eating her ass like you so clearly want to --"

"powder."

"i mean, doesn't that sound nice? why would you try to deprive yourself of --"

"powder. please, for the love of god, stop talking about eating the ass of the girl i live with --"

"and clearly have the most embarrassing crush on?"

"yeah. right. whatever," vi huffs, her cheeks burning at the thought of being buried between your legs proper. she swallows, her mouth suddenly very dry.

powder rolls her eyes.

"just... i dunno -- take her out dancing and see if she's into it -- and if she is..." she lets her voice trail off, her tone meaningful.

vi groans, letting here head loll back.

"and if she's not?" vi almost winces at how small her voice sounds.

powder scoffs, "i'll eat my wrench but fine -- hypothetically if she's not... then at least you know and you can stop fuckin' pining and go fuck some other girl as a rebound. didn't you say there was a cheerleader you thought was trying to hit on you?"

vi nods absently, "yeah. sure."

powder hangs up without saying goodbye. vi stares at her own image in the phone screen until it goes dark.

a few days later, she comes home to you, staring at your computer screen, looking dumbstruck. you turn and tell her that you've passed your dissertation defense and the words are out of her mouth before she can stop herself.

"c'mon, put on one of those pretty dresses of yours. we're going out."

the first time she kisses you, she thinks she's fucked it all up. the way you look at her after, the club lights strobing across the glaze of your eyes. and she's running away, because it's the only thing she can think of to do. there's an ache in her chest that feels like a gunshot wound, that is, until she feels you tug her back in the cool air of the back alley.

the second time she kisses you, you kiss her back.

you kiss her back like it's the first time.

when she finally pulls away, you're giggling and breathless. she licks her lips and thinks that you taste like breakfast on saturday mornings and coffee on thursday nights, maybe for the rest of her life.

she sucks in a long breath and blows it out. there's a thrumming, thundering hoofbeat at the back of her throat as she grabs your hand and tries not to be too giddy.

"let's get you home, princess."

#⛈ monsoon season #college roommate!vi #vi x reader #arcane x reader #vi x you #arcane x you #vi fluff #arcane fluff #vi smut #arcane smut #wlw writing #wlw fanfic #lesbian #PININGGGGGGGG yall wanted pining so here the fuck it is LMFAO #it feels weird to not be writing smut for vi HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA im sorry but it's true #when did i become this person im so sorry #arcane

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glorifiedagents · 5 months ago

Text

Paid to be Ruined — agatha harkness

"YOU LISTENED." Agatha’s voice was velvet and steel, laced with amusement and unmistakable hunger. Her gaze dragged over you — slow, knowing, lingering on the bare skin of your thighs peeking from beneath your coat. She took a step closer, fingers brushing the belt at your waist, her smirk deepening as she tugged — just enough to loosen it. "Good girl."

SUMMARY: agatha hires you for the night again - and you know for a fact that she's gonna ruin you PAIRING: g!p agatha harkness & escort!fem!reader CAUTION: swallowing cum, creampie, deepthroat, size kink, stomach bulge, spit, dom!sub!dynamics, overstimulation, escort!reader, g!p agatha, degradation and slight aftercare from agatha WORD COUNT: 5.1K AUTHOR'S NOTE: not proof read, let me know if i made mistakes! currently going through my agatha phase - literally need fucking help

You weren’t new to this.

The job, the money, the whole give them what they want, take what you need, and walk away thing. You had it down to a science. You knew how to read people, how to figure out exactly what they were looking for and play the part they wanted. It was easy. Simple. No emotions, no attachments, no mess.

But then there was her.

Agatha Harkness had been different from the start. The first time she hired you, you had expected the usual, maybe a drink, some small talk, a client who wanted to pretend there was more to this than just an exchange. But Agatha? She didn’t do small talk. She didn’t waste time.

She had taken one look at you, studied you with those dark, unreadable eyes, and smirked like she already knew exactly how the night would go. Like she had already decided how far she was going to push you. And the worst part?

She was right.

That night, she had left you wrecked. Not just satisfied — ruined.

You had walked away with sore thighs, a raw throat, and a pay-check big enough to make your head spin. You should have left it at that. Should have chalked it up to just one really good night with a really dangerous woman.

But then she called again. No discussion. No questions. Just a time, a room number, and the unspoken expectation that you would show up.

And against your better judgment, you did.

Only this time, you weren’t just going to show up. This time, you wanted to see just how much further she could break you.

You remembered something she had said the first time around, almost offhand but still deliberate in that way she did everything.

"Red suits you."

So you wore red.

Your best set — delicate lace, thin straps, garters and thigh-high stockings that made you feel like sin itself. And as the elevator carried you up to the top floor, heart pounding, pulse racing, you knew one thing for sure.

You weren’t just getting paid tonight.

You were getting owned.

The black car idled outside the grand hotel, its sleek design gleaming beneath the golden glow of the streetlights. You sat in the back seat, smoothing your hands over your thighs, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. The fabric of your long coat was soft, but it did nothing to still the pounding of your heart.

The driver hadn’t spoken much since picking you up from your apartment — just a clipped greeting and a quiet confirmation of the address before pulling away from the curb. You were grateful. Any attempt at conversation would have been wasted on you. Your mind was too preoccupied, too restless, too consumed by what awaited you on the top floor of this building.

Your breath hitched as you stepped out of the car, heels clicking softly against the pavement. The grand entrance of the hotel loomed ahead, its revolving doors ushering guests in and out with quiet efficiency. The warm air inside wrapped around you as you stepped through, a stark contrast to the crisp night air outside.

The lobby was a sight of wealth — high ceilings, polished marble floors, chandeliers dripping with crystal. The hum of quiet conversation surrounded you, but none of it registered. You walked with purpose, straight to the bank of elevators tucked near the back of the lobby.

Agatha’s message had been simple. A room number. A time. Nothing else.

Your fingers toyed with the belt of your coat as you waited for the elevator, a mix of nerves and anticipation coiling low in your stomach. You had dressed for her. The finest red lace and silk clung to your curves beneath your coat, the bra delicate yet daring, framing your breasts perfectly. The matching panties sat low on your hips, sheer enough to leave little to the imagination. Garters held up sheer thigh-high stockings, adding an extra layer of tease.

She would appreciate the effort. And then she would ruin it.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and you stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor. The space was empty save for you, the only sound the soft hum of the elevator rising.

Your pulse quickened. You could already imagine the way she would look at you. The weight of her gaze, dark and knowing, as she took in every inch of you. The way she liked to test your limits, the way she devoured, possessed. She was dangerous in the most intoxicating way, and you had walked straight into her grasp.

Another chime. The doors opened.

The hallway was quiet, lined with plush carpeting that softened the sound of your steps. Each step forward sent another jolt of anticipation through you, every breath felt heavier. The door number burned in your mind.

And then, you were there.

Before you could knock, the door swung open.

Agatha stood in the doorway, bathed in the soft glow of the suite’s lighting. Her dark button-up was partially undone, sleeves rolled up to her forearms, revealing toned, elegant wrists. She looked effortless, but you knew better. Everything about her was intentional.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Agatha wasted no time. She had you pinned before you could take another breath, her strong hands pressing you back against the door, her body a solid wall of heat against yours. Her mouth crashed onto yours—hungry, claiming, her teeth scraping against your lower lip before she bit down just hard enough to make you gasp. She swallowed the sound with a satisfied hum, her tongue slipping past your lips as she deepened the kiss, rough yet tantalizingly slow, like she had all the time in the world to ruin you.

Her fingers trailed from your wrists, still trapped against the wood, down the length of your arms, her touch featherlight—teasing. By the time she reached your shoulders, she slid her fingers beneath the delicate straps of your red lace bra, pulling them down achingly slow, her mouth never leaving yours until she finally ripped herself away.

"Look at you," she murmured, stepping back just enough to take in the sight of you, her dark eyes raking over your body like she was devouring you whole. "Dressed up like a good little whore, just for me."

Heat flared through your body at the way she said it, dripping with amusement but edged with something dangerous, something that made your pulse stutter in your throat.

You barely had a second to react before she was on you again—her mouth hot against the curve of your jaw, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your throat. Her hands were everywhere at once—sliding down your arms, gripping your hips, owning every inch of you as she backed you up toward the bed. You whimpered when she took one of your nipples into her mouth, sucking hard, her tongue circling the sensitive peak before her teeth grazed it just enough to make you jerk in her grasp.

"Mm, so fucking sensitive," she mused against your skin before switching to the other, her free hand rolling the abandoned nipple between her fingers. Your hips bucked reflexively against her, needing more, desperate for friction.

And fuck, you felt it. The thick, hard length of her cock pressing against your stomach through her slacks, the outline making your mouth water as you squirmed beneath her.

"Pathetic," Agatha laughed, the sound low and mocking, her fingers trailing down your stomach, stopping just at the waistband of your panties. She could feel how wet they were, her smirk widening as she pressed her fingers against the soaked lace, applying just enough pressure to make you moan. "This soaked already? And I haven't even touched you properly. Such a desperate little thing."

"Agatha, please—"

A sharp slap to your thigh cut you off, the sting making you whimper as your skin burned beneath her palm.

"Did I say you could fucking beg?" she growled, her tone dark, commanding. "You're so needy it’s pathetic. You don’t deserve my cock yet."

You let out a choked sound of frustration, your body aching for more, but she just smirked, dragging her fingers up the inside of your thigh, making you tremble.

Then, without warning, she dropped to her knees.

You gasped at the sudden shift, your breath hitching as she pressed a kiss to your hip, her mouth lingering over the thin straps of your panties. She breathed you in, her nose nudging against the damp lace before she let out a low, satisfied hum.

"Fucking filthy," she murmured, dragging her tongue over the wet fabric, slow and deliberate, tasting you through it. The friction was exquisite—a teasing, maddening pressure that made your thighs shake. She licked a second time, the heat of her mouth soaking through, her fingers digging into your hips as she held you still.

You whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets behind you as your hips jerked up, chasing her mouth. But she pulled away just enough to deny you.

"Patience," she scolded, voice thick with amusement, before reaching up and undoing the garter straps excruciatingly slow, watching your face the entire time.

And then—fuck.

She hooked her fingers into the waistband and pulled your panties down, dragging them down your legs inch by inch, her lips brushing along your thighs as she went. And then, instead of tossing them aside—

She brought them to her mouth.

Your breath caught as she slid the drenched fabric between her teeth, her dark eyes locked onto yours as she pulled them taut, letting them drag over her tongue. She moaned like she was savoring the taste, her smirk never fading as she finally removed them—only to shove them into your mouth.

"Since you can't seem to stop moaning like a desperate slut," she taunted, her fingers trailing down your exposed cunt. "Now you can keep quiet."

You whimpered against the soaked lace in your mouth as she finally pressed two fingers between your folds, spreading you open. She groaned at how wet you were, her thumb finding your clit and rubbing in slow, devastating circles.

"Fuck, look at this mess," she muttered, her fingers teasing your entrance, just barely pushing in before pulling away. "So fucking needy for me. Do you even have a single ounce of dignity left?"

You tried to respond, but your voice was muffled by the panties in your mouth.

Agatha laughed. "That’s what I thought."

And then, without warning, she thrust two fingers inside of you.

Your entire body arched off the bed, a muffled scream escaping past the gag as she filled you all at once, stretching you open with zero hesitation. She set a relentless pace immediately, her fingers driving into you with obscene, wet sounds that only seemed to fuel her amusement.

"Listen to you," she groaned, her free hand palming her cock through her slacks. "Taking my fingers so fucking well. You were made to be used like this."

Her thumb pressed against your clit, circling in time with the thrusts, sending sharp jolts of pleasure racing through your core. The pressure was unbearable, the pleasure so intense that your legs started shaking.

"You're gonna come already, aren’t you?" she mocked, watching you struggle. "Go on. Make a mess."

And then—fuck, fuck, fuck.

She angled her fingers just right, curling them against that perfect spot inside of you while pressing harder against your clit. Your entire body locked up before pleasure exploded through you, a sharp, overwhelming rush that had you squirting all over her fingers, your release dripping down your thighs as you writhed beneath her.

Agatha groaned as she watched you come undone, fucking you through it, her pace unrelenting as she worked you through every wave. "That's it. So fucking messy for me."

When she finally pulled her fingers out, they were dripping. She brought them to her lips, eyes locked onto yours as she sucked them clean, humming at the taste.

Then she stood, undoing her slacks, letting them pool at her feet.

Your breath caught at the sight of her thick, hard cock springing free, the tip glistening. You reached for it immediately, but she caught your wrist, pinning it back against the mattress with a warning glare.

"You don’t get to touch until I say so," she growled, leaning over you, pressing the heavy length against your overstimulated clit, making you whimper. "And you will take every fucking inch."

And fuck, you knew she meant it.

Every single word.

Agatha’s cock drags against your slick folds, teasing, the head catching on your clit with every slow, deliberate stroke. The obscene, wet sounds fill the room, mixing with your breathy whimpers and the low, guttural hum of amusement from her lips. She’s playing with you, watching the way you tremble beneath her, the way your thighs try to clamp together, only to be forced apart by her strong grip.

"Spit." The command is sharp, leaving no room for hesitation.

Your lips part instantly, tongue pushing forward as a warm strand of saliva drips onto her waiting fingers. She smears it over her cock, mixing it with the slick beads of pre-cum already glistening at the tip. A slow, shuddering breath leaves her as she fists herself, pumping with languid strokes, eyes heavy-lidded as she watches you. A few stray drops spill onto your stomach, smearing across your skin, and marking you.

She lines herself up again, pressing the swollen tip against your entrance but not pushing in. Instead, she leans in close, mouth ghosting over yours, her breath hot and teasing.

"You want it?" she murmurs, smirking as she rubs herself against you, teasing, taunting. "Say it. Beg for it."

"Please," you gasp, fingers digging into the sheets. "Please, Agatha, I need—"

The words cut off in a sharp cry as she thrusts into you in one smooth motion, burying herself to the hilt. The stretch is instant, overwhelming — your walls clenching desperately around her thick cock as she fills you completely.

But she doesn’t give you time to adjust.

She sets a ruthless pace from the start, each powerful thrust driving deep, punching the air from your lungs as she claims you. The slap of skin on skin echoes through the room, the mattress creaking beneath the force of her movements. Your back arches, head falling back against the pillows as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you.

"Feel that?" she growls, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand down to your stomach. She presses your palm flat against your lower abdomen, right where she’s buried so deep inside you. "Feel me stretching you out? Fucking you open?"

The sensation is dizzying — you can feel the thick, hard outline of her cock through your own skin, feel the way she moves inside you, relentless and unyielding. Your body is burning, electric, the pressure coiling tight in your core with every brutal thrust.

"You’re squeezing me so fucking tight," Agatha groans, her fingers bruising against your hips as she fucks into you harder, deeper. "Like your body's desperate to milk me dry."

The words send a violent shudder through you, the pleasure teetering on the edge of something devastating.

"That’s it," she pants, her grip tightening as she slams into you harder. "Come for me, you filthy little thing — fucking soak me."

It’s too much. The overwhelming fullness, the sharp slap of her hips against yours, the way her cock presses against that perfect spot inside you — it sends you spiralling. Your body seizes, the orgasm ripping through you like a lightning strike, white-hot and all-consuming.

Fuck.

A strangled cry breaks from your lips as the pleasure turns into something explosive — your walls clenching down in rhythmic, desperate spasms, forcing liquid heat to gush from you, soaking Agatha’s cock, your thighs, and the sheets beneath you. The release is violent, messy, your body shuddering uncontrollably as the pleasure crashes over you in waves, each one dragging you under deeper.

Agatha curses under her breath, watching as you fall apart, watching the way you soak her cock, your slick dripping down onto her thighs. Her movements grow erratic, her breath ragged as she slams into you one final time, burying herself to the hilt as her own pleasure overtakes her.

A deep, guttural groan rumbles from her chest as she comes, filling you with heat. You can feel it — the thick warmth spilling deep inside, coating your insides. As if it was seeping into every inch of you. She doesn’t pull out, just grinds against you, making sure every drop stays buried within you.

Your body is still trembling, aftershocks pulsing through your core, your skin flushed and feverish. Agatha finally collapses against you, her cock still inside, pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, her breath still ragged as she murmurs against your ear:

"Mine."

Agatha pulls out slowly, deliberately, watching with dark, predatory eyes as your walls clench around nothing, your body still trembling from the force of your release. A satisfied smirk curls at the corner of her lips as she watches the thick spill of her cum start to leak out of you, glistening as it drips onto your thighs.

"Messy little thing," she muses, voice dripping with amusement and something darker, something possessive. Her fingers trail down your stomach, teasing over the sensitive, overstimulated skin before she presses two fingers against your entrance, spreading you open just enough to watch more of her cum seep out.

"Don’t waste it," she commands, and when you hesitate, she grabs your wrist, guiding your hand down. "Use your fingers. Push it back in."

Your breath stutters, but you do as you're told, your own fingers gathering the warmth of her release, feeling it slick and sticky against your skin before pressing it back inside, your walls fluttering around the intrusion. The act is filthy and it makes you burn with humiliation and arousal all at once.

Agatha hums approvingly, dragging her thumb over your bottom lip, her smirk widening. "That’s a good girl."

But she isn’t done with you.

"On your knees."

Your body obeys before your mind fully catches up, slipping off the bed and sinking onto the floor. The shift makes more of her spend trickle down your thighs, and Agatha notices; her gaze flicking down, her smirk deepening.

"Open your mouth," she orders, tilting your chin up with two fingers.

The second your lips part, she grips the base of her cock and taps the heavy length against your tongue. She’s still hard, impossibly thick, coated in a mix of your slick and her own release. The taste is intoxicating — salty and musky. The scent clings to her skin, warm and heady, something rich and masculine with the faintest hint of sweat.

You could get used to this.

Agatha doesn’t ease you into it. She grips the back of your head and pushes forward, the thick head stretching your lips wide as she sinks deep, pressing against your tongue. The intrusion makes your throat tighten, and she groans at the feeling, her other hand coming to rest heavy on the back of your neck.

"That’s it. Take it," she growls, rolling her hips forward, pushing deeper until your nose nearly brushes the coarse, dark hair at the base of her cock. There’s just enough of it for you to feel against your skin, soft yet undeniably masculine, a reminder of how utterly she’s claiming you.

Your fingers twitch at your sides before you reach up, cupping her balls — heavy, full, sensitive under your touch. You can feel the heat of them against your palm, the weight of them tightening slightly as she thrusts into your mouth.

"Look at you," Agatha sneers, pulling back just enough to let you gasp for air before she thrusts forward again, setting a punishing rhythm. "Nothing but a desperate little cock-sleeve for me, aren’t you? So fucking needy, drooling all over yourself just to have me in your mouth."

Your throat constricts around her, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, saliva pooling and spilling from the corners of your lips. Your body shudders, caught between humiliation and arousal, between submission and the raw pleasure of being used like this.

"Messy, pathetic thing," she continues, her voice sharper now, laced with satisfaction. "You love this, don’t you? Love being on your knees for me, choking on my cock like the filthy little slut you are."

Her words send a fresh pulse of heat between your thighs, and she notices the slight tremor in your body, the way your nails dig into her thighs as if trying to ground yourself.

"You’re getting off on this," she chuckles darkly, shoving deeper, holding you there for a moment as your throat spasms around her. "Of course you are. You’d let me ruin you, wouldn’t you?"

She groans as she pulls back, letting you breathe just for a second before thrusting forward again, deeper, harder, until you’re gasping around her, tears streaking down your cheeks. And still, you don’t pull away. You take it.

Just like she knew you would.

Agatha’s grip tightens at the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair as she thrusts deeper, groaning low and guttural as she feels herself teetering on the edge. You can feel the way her cock pulses on your tongue, the way her breath stutters, her rhythm faltering just slightly as she chases that final burst of pleasure.

"Fuck—" she growls, her hips snapping forward one last time, holding you down as her release spills down your throat. The taste is thick, warm, — salty and rich, coating your tongue in waves. She doesn’t let you pull away, making sure you take as much as you can, but it’s too much — some of it dribbles from the corners of your lips, spilling down your chin in hot, sticky trails.

She watches with dark, satisfied eyes as you gasp for breath when she finally pulls back, her cock glistening with spit and the remnants of her orgasm.

"Messy little thing," she murmurs again, thumb swiping at the cum dripping from your chin before pressing it against your lips. "Swallow every last drop."

Your throat bobs as you obey, the act making her smirk in satisfaction.

Then, without warning, she grabs you and pulls you up onto shaky legs, her lips crashing onto yours in a bruising kiss. The taste of her own release lingers between you, and she doesn’t shy away from it —if anything, she deepens the kiss, claiming your mouth with a dominance that makes your knees weak.

She moves you easily, pushing you back onto the bed, her body covering yours, heavy with heat and lingering hunger. Her cock, still hard, presses against your stomach, smearing the last of her release against your skin. You’re panting, dazed, body still trembling from the relentless pleasure she’s wrung from you, but when she starts to pull away, you catch her wrist, eyes glassy with need.

"I wanna ride you," you gasp, the words tumbling out breathlessly, your body aching but desperate for more.

Agatha chuckles, low and smug, dragging her fingers down your chest, teasing over your already-sensitive skin. "You think you can handle that?" she taunts, tracing slow circles over your overstimulated clit, making your thighs twitch. "You’re still shaking, baby. After everything I’ve done to you, you really think you can take control?"

The challenge sends another shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as you push up onto shaky arms. "Let me try," you whisper, lips brushing against hers, your voice filled with determination despite the exhaustion in your limbs.

Agatha leans back against the pillows, her body stretched out beneath you, radiating heat and authority even in repose. Her cock, still thick and glistening with a mix of your slick and her own release, stands hard between her legs, a silent challenge. The way she watches you; head tilted, lips curled in a knowing smirk; makes your pulse spike, a flush crawling up your chest.

"Go on then," she murmurs, voice laced with amusement, fingers idly trailing up her stomach. "Show me what you can do, baby."

Your thighs tremble as you shift forward, crawling into position, your body still aching from the relentless way she’s used you but the hunger still simmers beneath the exhaustion, pulsing low in your belly. You want this. Need this. Need to take her in deep, to feel every inch stretch you open again.

You straddle her lap, your hands braced against her stomach, feeling the taut muscles flex beneath your palms as you hover just above her length. The heat of her cock brushes against your swollen folds, sending a fresh shudder through you. She feels like fire against your skin. Thick and rigid, pulsing with need, the tip teasing against your entrance as you roll your hips ever so slightly, coating her in your arousal.

Agatha hums in approval, her hands gliding up your thighs, slow and possessive. "Look at you," she murmurs, her thumbs pressing into the sensitive skin where your legs meet your hips. "So desperate to have me inside you again. Can’t get enough, can you?"

You bite your lip, but she catches your chin between her fingers, forcing your gaze to meet hers. "Say it."

Your breath stutters, your body burning from the inside out as you whisper, "I can’t get enough of you."

Her smirk deepens. "Good girl."

She releases you just as you sink down, your breath catching in your throat as the thick head of her cock pushes past your entrance, stretching you inch by inch. The burn is instant—blissful, overwhelming, your walls struggling to take her all at once.

Agatha groans beneath you, her fingers digging into your thighs. "Fuck, you’re tight," she rasps, watching with hooded eyes as you slowly lower yourself onto her, taking her deeper, letting the length of her disappear inside you.

Your head falls back as you bottom out, her cock nestled impossibly deep, pressing against every nerve inside you. The sensation is devastating, a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure, and you tremble above her, nails scraping against her abdomen as you struggle to catch your breath.

"Feel that?" Agatha murmurs, her voice smug as she presses a hand against your lower stomach, right where she’s buried to the hilt. "So deep I can feel myself inside you again. Fuck baby."

You whimper, rolling your hips experimentally, the movement sending sharp waves of pleasure through you. The drag of her cock against your walls is slow and torturous, every inch brushing against that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

Agatha watches you struggle to find a rhythm, her grip tightening. "Come on, baby," she taunts, giving your thigh a sharp slap that makes you jolt. "You wanted to ride me. Show me how much you need it."

A determined fire flares in your chest, and you plant your hands against her shoulders, lifting yourself just enough before sinking back down, harder this time. The impact sends a delicious jolt through you, pleasure sparking at the base of your spine.

Agatha groans, her hands sliding up to your chest, palms covering your breasts, squeezing as she rolls your sensitive nipples between her fingers. The sensation makes you gasp, the mix of pleasure and pain sending a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs.

"That’s it," she murmurs, her grip firm but teasing, playing with your body as she lets you work yourself on her cock. "Such pretty tits, bouncing every time you take me. Keep going, baby. Make yourself cum on me."

The words send a rush of heat through you, your movements growing desperate, erratic, your nails digging into her skin as you chase the high she’s leading you toward. The pleasure coils deep in your belly, unbearably tight, and when Agatha tweaks your nipple just right, rolling it between her fingers, it snaps.

A strangled cry rips from your throat as your climax crashes over you, your entire body shaking as pleasure consumes you. Your walls clench down around her, pulsing, milking her cock with every wave of your release.

Agatha groans, her thrusts turning erratic as she follows, burying herself deep inside you with one final snap of her hips. The warmth of her release floods your core, thick and hot, filling you completely as her grip tightens around you.

Then, with a smirk, Agatha leans in, nipping at your jaw but this time, her touch is softer. As you collapse onto her chest, spent and trembling, she strokes a hand down your back, her other hand massaging the sore muscles of your thighs.

"You did so well for me," she murmurs, pressing lazy kisses against your shoulder. "My good girl."

You hum, barely able to keep your eyes open as her hands knead away the ache, working out the tension she put into you. The warmth of her touch soothes the lingering sting of overstimulation, and for a moment, you think about letting yourself drift off.

But you don’t. You can’t.

The rules are the rules. Your rules.

With effort, you shift, slipping from her grasp, your limbs still shaky as you slide out of bed. Agatha watches as you stand, stretching despite the soreness in your legs, and move toward where your clothes are strewn across the floor.

"You’re not gonna shower?" she asks, her tone casual but curious as she props herself up on an elbow, watching you with sharp eyes.

You shake your head, pulling your clothes back on with practiced efficiency. "I’ll do it at home."

Agatha doesn’t say anything for a moment, just studies you as you gather your things. Then, without breaking eye contact, she reaches for the bedside table, grabs the check she had prepared, and hands it to you.

"You know…" she starts, voice slower now, something unreadable beneath the surface. "You can stay the night."

The offer lingers in the air between you, heavier than it should be.

But the rules are the rules.

You take the check, meeting her gaze one last time before slipping out the door.

And Agatha watches you go.

#agatha harkness #agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x you #wlw #wlw post #wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw #wlw yearning #sapphic #lesbianism #lesbian #wuh luh wuh #aaaedit #agatha x reader #agatha x you #kathryn hahn

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nathanbatemanfucker · 5 months ago

Text

Vuelve a Mí Pt. II

summary: you and joaquin try to reconnect-- it doesn't exactly go as joaquin had hoped, but he hasn't given up just yet.

pairing: joaquin torres x f!reader

wc: 1,727

gif credit: @gaybuckybarnesss

contents: 18+/minors dni, pining, longing, angst, dishonesty (from sma & it his heart is in the best place), KISSING

an: okay we're at it with a part two. i was on the phone with my sister while finishing this and she's convinced me to give yall at least FOUR parts so everyone say thank you j! pls don't ask to be on my taglist if you aren't 18+/have that in your bio <3

vuelve a mí masterlist

You should’ve known better truly. And even though you hadn’t, part of you thinks you should’ve said no. But, when Sam calls begging for your help, insisting that you’re the only person that can get Joaquin to take his meds, you want to help.

Or so you’d thought.

When you make it to Joaquin’s place, it’s a little strange. The last time you’d been to his place was because it was your place. And it wasn’t as nice and polished— you didn’t have a doorman when you lived together. Nevertheless, you sign in and head up to his floor in the elevator.

You’ll get in and get out. Implore him to stop being a brat and take his meds and then get out. The entire drive had been nothing but you hyping yourself up.

How were you supposed to look him in the eye after everything he’d said the last time you saw him? After you’d ignored his desperate pleas for you and answered none of his calls since.

It isn’t lost on you how unfair it is for you to show up now— especially for Sam. But you wanted Joaquin to get better…you needed him to. He had figured out a way to live life in a world without you in it, but you’re sure you couldn’t do the same.

Sam swings the door open before you can knock, his expression a mix of exasperation and relief.

“Thank god you’re here, he’s being a little shit,” He grabs you by your shoulders, rubbing them affectionately. You’re about to tell him it’s no problem when he quickly switches your places, leaving you in Joaquin’s apartment and him in the hallway.

“I’ll be back!” He assures you before slamming the door in your face.

That’s when you realize—you’ve been set up. Joaquin is fine, probably training again. It’s been over a month since you last saw him in the hospital.

You’re afraid to turn around and see what’s waiting for you. Instead, stupidly you close your eyes, willing this to go away. You’re not ready to talk through this with him. You weren’t ready in the hospital and you aren’t ready now. When you’re lost to the deep spiral of your thoughts, you wonder if you’ll ever be ready. Somehow, either answer to that question makes your heart race.

“Not excited to see me, I guess?” Joaquin asks wryly.

“You set me up.”

“How else was I gonna get you to talk to me? You won’t answer my calls, which is very rude if you didn’t know.”

Your belly fills with that dreadful guilt and you rest your head against the door, “Joaquin…”

“For once I don’t have any expectations, cross my heart and hope to die. I just wanted to see you. And some part of you…wanted to see me too,” He adds, his voice uncharacteristically shy.

“It’s never been about me wanting to see you. I always want to see you I just—

“Won’t?” He supplies.

“Can’t,” You correct. “I can't, it's too painful.”

“More painful than this? Because I think we both agree—this fucking sucks.”

You aren’t sure why, but what he says gets you to turn around. There before you on his coffee table is an unfinished puzzle— one you thought had been thrown away along with the rest of you. The gesture nearly winds you, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Quino, what kind of life could I possibly give you when I don’t know who I am anymore?”

“You say that like I don’t know you. But I do. I always have,” He simply gazes at you, studying you for a moment before his lips curve into a small smile.

"You probably don't remember this, but there was this little boy at the park once— he must've been five, maybe six. We were reading on this bench, you were so comfortable with your head in my lap, feet propped up. But the boy, he was struggling to fly this ridiculous, tangled-up kite. His dad kept trying to help, but the poor kid was just about ready to give up. And then…you put your book down."

You tilt your head. "I don't remember that."

"I do. Because I remember you. I could never forget, even if I tried, baby. You walked over to that kid, knelt down next to him, and helped him untangle the strings. You showed him everything; how to hold it, when to run, how to wait for the wind. And when that kite finally lifted off the ground, I swear l've never seen a kid so happy. You just stood there, watching him, smiling like it was the easiest thing in the world to make a stranger's day better."

You exhale, shaking your head. "That doesn't even sound like me anymore."

“That's the thing, querida," he says softly, closing the gap between you so that he can grasp your hand. "It is you. No matter how much you feel like you've lost yourself, I promise you're still that person. The one who stops, who helps, who makes the world.”

You gaze down at your hands, sucked into the warmth of his skin against yours. Still you ask, “That was a long time ago. What if that’s not who I am anymore?”

“You didn’t have to show up to the hospital to make sure I was okay. Or come here to make sure I took my meds. Brillas como la luz, entiendes?”

“I…I don’t know, Quino. We can’t just go back to how things were, we’d be lying to ourselves. I mean, you’ve changed too.”

“People change. They still love each other— I still love you.”

Your eyes go wide at his candor. After all you’ve put him through, all the rejection, he was still brave enough to tell you he loved you. You swallow thickly, throat dry. You aren’t sure what to say, because if you open your mouth, the weight of it all—of him, of this—might crush you.

Joaquin takes in your overwhelmed expression and immediately pulls back, though he doesn’t deny his previous words. “Too fast? Yeah, too fast. Look just…help me do this puzzle? I’ve waited years to finish it with you. Please?”

That’s something you could say yes to, isn’t it?

“Sure, yeah. Let’s do it,” You agree, giving him a small smile.

The sight of your happiness makes his heart soar.

Once the two of you are sat beside each other at the coffee table, Joaquin dives right in. You stay put, simply watching him and after a few minutes he notices your lack of participation.

Gently, he nudges a piece of the puzzle closer to you. “C’mon, you still got it,” He encourages.

It’s enough for you to try, really try and soon the two of you fall into a groove, in your respective corners of the puzzle but always looking out for one another. Always ready to aid if the other is stumped in finding the next piece or where one fits. After working diligently, your corners start to bleed into each other and your fingers brush as you reach for the same piece.

“Oh—sorry— um—“ You stutter softly, unable to move your hand. You feel made of cement and thought you’re frozen on the outside, your mind is moving a mile a minute.

Move your hand. Move your hand first or break the silence or something. Do something—anything—other than sit here, drowning in the weight of his gaze.

Before you can do any of those things, Joaquin is leaning in, his mouth just barely ghosting yours. Familiarity takes over to your surprise, and you press forward, kissing him back.

That confirmation, your unexpected desire for him makes his belly warm. He kisses you more firmly, raising a hand to cup your chin and hold you in place. His mouth is soft— so so painstakingly soft— and for several moments all you can do is give into him— succumbing to his skillful kiss that makes your brain feel melty.

His hand starts to move, thumb tracing the shape of your jaw before his gentle grip lowers to your neck. You shiver against him, moaning which grants him the access to taste you. It’s the sensual brush of his tongue against yours that brings you back to reality.

You jerk back against the couch, eyes down as you wipe your mouth. “Quino,” You murmur breathlessly, unsure of what more to say. Your mouth feels like it’s on fire, the place where he touched you searing with heat.

“I’m sorry, it just sort of— you looked at me like that. No pude evitarlo, preciosa. No con lo hermosa que eres,” He murmurs, hand reflexively raising to cup your cheek.

You flinch away, nervous about what will happen if he touches you like that again. “Joaquin this is all just…it’s too much. I need time to think, to clear my head.

“It’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes either,” You remind him gently.

“I know. But I’ll take it for now. Can I walk you out?” He asks hopefully, rising to his feet as you do.

“Just to the door…I need space, Quino.”

“Sure, hermosa. Whatever you say.”

Once you’re standing in the hallway, feeling a little more separated from him you turn around, meeting his intense gaze. “Thank you for tonight. You’re being so kind and patient with me, and I know it’s difficult but you’re doing it anyway.”

His eyes soften, gooey and warm as he looks at you. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I— I’ll call you, okay?”

“Alright,” He agrees.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, querida.”

Joaquin waits until the elevator doors close to shut his own door. He leans against the sturdy wood, a slow smile spreading across his face as he thinks about what just transpired. He got to spend time with you, to touch you and taste you for the first time in 7 years. This is the closest he’s ever been to getting you back and he’ll take it, even if it uses every drop of patience in his body.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and dials Sam.

“Well?” Sam asks, skipping pleasantries.

The goofy grin on Joaquin’s face has his cheeks aching. “I think…I think it might’ve worked.”

Sam can hear the smile in his voice and wants every detail. “I’m on my way.”

> pt. III

must be 18+ to be added to the joaquin taglist! <3

joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @moonymeloncholymoney, @glader13, @how2besalty

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x fem!reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres fanfiction #captain america brave new world fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #x reader #arson writes

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teeskzagain · 5 months ago

Text

⁺⋆｡°✩⁺˚｡Party Favors ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

» pairing: arrogant!sunghoon x bratty!reader

» summary: it's nearing the end of mid-term season, and sunghoon is truly on the brink of death. luckily, his roommates have a solution to help him recuperate from the treacherous week: one large ass, big ass, loud ass party. even if it may not be his scene normally , sunghoon figures there's no harm in trying it out. little did he know, from the moment he would step foot into that house, the night was going to be full of mistakes.

» genre + warnings: college au, alcohol consumption, heavy kissing + hard make outs, lots of arguments, hickies, rough sex (like rough), choking, unprotected sex (DONT DO THAT), cream pies, dirty talking, t e n s i on, mean!dom sunghoon, batty!sub reader, enemies to NO lovers, shitty depictions of sim jake and lee heeseung (don't take this seriously)

» w.c: 10.9k

» a/n: not on time, but at least it's within the hour! (no its not) still, give me some credit...

» taglist: @indigoez @jakeswifez @aanniikkaa-blog @slut4hee @heeknow @rairaiblog-blog @no1likeneo @d-dilemma @soobingf-blog @shuaxzcake @mingyuslice @heelovesmeknot @mitmit01 @hpnsfwaddict @jooniesbears-blog @notrosemary @remii830@jooniesbears-blog @pasteltheghost16 @goodforgyu @sunghoonsbigcoketip

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Entering his shared apartment, Sunghoon is quick to throw off his backpack and sling off his coat. He doesn’t even bother putting them in their designated spots, rather deciding to leave the items scattered about. Yep, he's that out of it, that he doesn’t even care for the mess just now created.

Despite having recently finished his latest mid-term exam, it's as if the burden of stress still weighs on him. His shoulders are tense, there's pressure in his head, his eyes are hanging low. Truthfully, he doesn't even remember the last time he smiled within the past week. Mid-terms were absolutely brutal this time around.

The only saving grace is the fact that it's now done. Finally. After damn near killing himself for the past week and a half; the sleepless nights, the treacherous study hours. Even if he may not have his results for some time now, he's just glad to have it over with.

“Thank, god.” He mumbles more to himself. Currently, he’s beelining straight into the kitchen and to the refrigerator.

He grabs the first water bottle seen, and waste no time screwing the cap off and gulping down sections of liquid. Because of the back to back exams, he couldn’t even find time to properly eat or drink anything, leaving him parched and fatigued. He swings his head forward to cut off the remaining water flow, a small gasp falling from his throat as well.

Little huffs continuously erupt from Sunghoon. Today must’ve worn him out even more than he realized. So much so, that he finds himself going in for another swing, downing the bottle half empty until-

“Holy shit, dude!”

Sunghoon rips the bottle away from his mouth, slightly startled from the sudden outbreak. There, standing in the kitchen, is his roommate and close friend, Sim Jake. Who from the looks of it- with his messy hair, oversized shirt/shorts combo, and titled glasses -probably either just woke up or got done boning someone.

Maybe….both?

“Did you just run a fucking marathon? Why are you drinking it like that?” Jake questions as he goes in above to reach for the cabinet. He originally came in for some snacks, only to get jumpscared by his roommate acting strange.

Realizing he must have looked crazy, Sunghoon lets out a small chuckle, “I just got done with my last exam, and now I’m exhausted.”

“Clearly...” Jake mutters. Quickly, he retrieves a couple of chip bags then closes the cubby door, “But, I hear you. I mean, you did take 19 credit hours this semester. Probably wasn’t gonna be a walk in the park when it came to the tests.”

And to that, Sunghoon could only nod in agreement. Yes, he’s fully aware how psychotic it must have been to request 19 hours this semester. But, Sunghoon has his reasons for doing so, plus he was certain he could have handled it. Now….not so much. If this amount of stress is already getting to him, he doesn’t even want to think about finals week.

Jake lets his own words linger as he’s about ready to step out of the kitchen. Before doing just that, he catches a glimpse of Sunghoon’s face, causing him to instead move in closer. Eyeing the stoic boy, Jake’s face scrunches, “Oh, god. Dude, and your eye bags are getting darker. How much sleep have you been getting?”

With a ‘tch’, Sunghoon swats the boy away and does a side step from the space invasion. He opts to leave the crammed space and book it towards the connected living room, “None, basically. I was hauling ass these past couple of weeks to prepare for mid-terms. In which, there’s no such thing as sleep.”

As he flops down on to the couch, a laborious groan leaves his chest and even that surprises Sunghoon. God, what’s wrong with him? Jake follows him into the living room as well, watching the way Sunghoon’s body stiffly sinks into the cushions.

“Jesus Christ,” Jake comments, the scene unfolding before his very eyes becoming increasingly sad. It looks as if Sunghoon has strained something in the process of….relaxing? and is now rubbing his lower back, “No wonder Y/N called you a hallowed-out machine the other day. It’s like you’re wearing down more and more by the hour.”

At the mention of your name, Sunghoon’s neck snaps up towards Jake’s vicinity. Jake, in turn, finds himself shuffling backwards slightly out of fear, “Don’t you dare speak her name in this apartment. Are you asking for a death wish?”

He and his other roommate, Heeseung, know the rules: no mentions of you ever. It irks him every single time. Coupled with the fact that Jake had brought up the insult thrown at him not too long ago by you? Yeah, maybe he did have a death wish.

Jake swiftly raises his hands in the air as a sign of surrendering, “Look, I’m just saying. You’re so rigid, your spine doesn’t even curve.” Sunghoon instinctively glances behind his shoulder, then goes to straighten his back. Well, as much as he could.

Regarding him, Jake continues, “You’ve been stressed out of your mind lately, Hoon. And now, you can’t even relax properly.”

The disgruntled boy scoffs, shifting around in his seat briefly, “Oh, fuck off…” It also didn’t help that minor sounds of his back cracking occurred.

“I’m being serious!” Throwing his arms out, Jake tries to emphasize his point by a, ‘just look at you!’ claim of evidence. Sunghoon merely jeers, opposing his statements.

Just as the conversation gained traction, out comes Lee Heeseung from his room, a bowl of finished noodles in hand as he slurps the last remaining ramen. He gets only a couple steps in when he gazes up and stops in his tracks, and with wide eyes, he darts back and forth between the always stressed out Sunghoon and a growing stressed out Jake.

He swallows his food, “What’s going on in here?”

“Oh, Hee! Great, now you can be apart of this, I need backup.” Jake’s eyes scan Heeseung’s body as he travels into the kitchen to wash his dish.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sunghoon rests two fingers on his forehead and goes in for a message, swearing he’s going to lose his mind soon. The swooshing from the running water causes Jake to shout over it.

“Our mate over here doesn’t believe that he’s lost it. You know, with his terribly designed schedule and all.”

Sliding the digits down his face, Sunghoon could only deadpan towards his roommate, “I’m going to strangle you.”

While looking back behind him, Heeseung is wrist deep into cleaning the bowl. Though, that doesn’t stop him from answering, “Oh, yeah. Sunghoon, you’ve been out of it for weeks, man!”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Sarcasm oozes from Sunghoon’s statement which only acts as more fuel for the fire Jake has created.

“And that’s the issue,” Jake counters, “You’ve been wound up for so long, it’s starting to impact you even after the fact.”

The faucet promptly gets turned off, him placing the bowl in the nearby drying rack, and soon Heeseung is strolling out of the kitchen and up to Jake. The two stand side by side each other as a small pout forms on Heeseung’s face.

“You haven’t slept in days. I know, cause I’ve heard you up past like 1 AM every single night, groaning about your tests.” It took Heeseung about a couple of days into the week to realize Sunghoon wasn’t just jerking off unusually loud, but instead was producing pained moans from his grueling study hours.

A low grumble bubbles out from Sunghoon, with him throwing harsh dagger eyes towards his roommates, “Is this some sort of impromptu intervention? What the fuck?”

“What? No-”

“Yes.” Jake butts-in before Heeseung had a chance to satiate him, “You know what, actually, yeah it is. As your best friends and amazing roommates-”

Holy god.

“-we can’t just let you work yourself dead. Then, who would help us pay for rent?”

Sunghoon stares blankly at Jake’s stupid puppy dog eyes and stupid half grin. After a quick round of silence, Heeseung then takes the time to chime in.

“On a more….sincere note,” he starts off by accentuating the sincere part, “we really are just worried for you, Hoon. Yeah, you’ve always been pretty stiff in manners, but now that’s like…been amplified.”

Jake uses the crown of his head to point towards Heeseung, signaling his consensus. He then brings his hands to his hips, his face morphing into a pondering pose. As his brain churns, the remaining boys just wait for whatever idea is brewing.

“Oh!” Like a light bulb going off in his head, Jake gets the brightest idea. One, for the record, he just knows will cure whatever academic illness Sunghoon’s been subjected to, “What you need…is a few drinks in you.”

“It’s 2 in the afternoon.” Sunghoon turns his nose upright at whatever proposition that was, only for Jake to come back with a retort.

“No..no, not right now. I mean later tonight.”

It’s after those words Heeseung perks his own head up. Ah, okay. He’s picking up what Jake’s putting down, “Ohhh, right. Jungwon did say he was gonna throw tonight.”

“Exactly, and it’s supposed to be the biggest one yet.” Jake sticks out his tongue wickedly, “You should be able to loosen up there. Cause if anything, Jungwon is gonna make sure you will.”

Sunghoon truly can’t think of any other place he would hate going to more than a party. What kind of shitty idea is that?

“No.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, “No?”

“I have to study-”

“No, you don’t!” He exclaims back at the boy sitting on the couch, “See, it’s like you’re infected. Always worrying about school, always concerned about your grades. Blah. Blah. Doesn’t it get tiring?”

Sunghoon can’t believe what he’s hearing. Of course his dumbass friend couldn’t understand the hard work and care he puts into university, when he’s too busy practically sleeping the day away. Or fucking someone, who knows, really. Hoon opens his mouth and is ready to refute the comment when Heeseung jumps in, stopping any forming sentences.

“Just think of this as a chance for you to actually enjoy yourself. You know, getting out, putting some alcohol into your system, maybe….finding another way to relieve some stress?” His eyebrows shoot upwards with a wiggle, indicating an innuendo. Jake immediately yells in delight.

“Fuck yes!” It’s as if Jake’s figured it all out. No wonder why Sunghoon’s been so cranky, “You need to find some girl and stick your dick in her. You’ve been celibate for too long.”

Sunghoon glares over to the two standing near him. One of them bears a look of plead while the other waits patiently for his answer. He doesn’t get it. His friends know he’d rather drop dead than go to some party. So, why try to convince him? Letting out a ghostly sigh, Sunghoon thinks for a bit.

“What if…that’s by choice?” Sunghoon attempts to counter argue. He brings his forearms down to his knees, resting them there.

Jake could only roll his eyes, “Oh, we know it’s by choice. Too many girls have asked us for your socials and shit.”

“They like the whole unapproachable act you do. Apparently, it’s hot.” Heeseung adds, which means it’s now Sunghoon’s turn to do a dramatic eye roll. There is no act. There is no strategy. That’s just how he is.

“You guys are crazy.” He mumbles with a light shake, though Jake doesn’t falter. Instead, he inches closer towards Sunghoon with another single attempt.

“Listen to us Hoon,” Jake starts again one final time. He is determined to get his friend to see the bigger picture, “You’re finished with your midterms, which we know for fact you killed them. At least do it as a celebration for yourself.”

Heeseung points a finger in Sunghoon’s direction, “And the weekend is coming up. You could use this party as a gateway into your much needed time away from school.”

“Plus, you’ll have us there to make sure you don’t get too bored. And wingman if you want us too.” A wink gets thrown in from Jake, and that finally cracks down Sunghoon’s hard exterior. He lets out a short laugh.

So, maybe there is some plausible truth to what he is hearing. And, if Sunghoon’s being honest, he does feel as if he has accomplished something. Is there really any harm in celebrating? Plus, it’s only for one night and he knows the host, Jungwon; if things get too crazy, he can always just leave.

“Are you considering it?” Heeseung quips, leaning in towards his friend. He truly does believe this will help resolve some of that pent up frustration.

Sunghoon blows out a harsh breath, dropping one arm as the other goes in to scratch the back of his head. He thinks it over one last time. Jesus, is he really about to go to this thing? Giving it some more thought, Sunghoon raises back up and soon flashes a tired smile in the boys’ direction.

“What the hell. Alright, fine.”

His two friends cheer proudly. Finally, an actual chance at winding down and enjoying himself. They’re happy Sunghoon made the right choice, or else he would’ve been holed up in here by himself. Which, it’s already sad enough he does that on the regular, at least now he can have somewhat of a social life. All thanks to them.

“Damn, it’s gonna be so much fun tonight.” Exclaiming, Jake knocks himself into Heeseung with a fat smile.

Heeseung laughs back, “I already know Jungwon’s gonnna be psyched to hear that Hoon’s coming. I think Jay and Sunoo said they’ll show up too. Plus Riki, maybe. Either way, it’ll be great.”

Sunghoon sits up and brushes his palms over his thighs, already feeling a mixture between excitement and nerves, “I hope it is.”

“Don’t sweat it. Jungwon’s parties are always fun. You’ll enjoy it.” Jake reassures him and Heeseung throws in his own attestant, confirming the statement.

As they all finish out their conversation, soft footsteps creak against their hard floors, causing the talking to die down. They all look over to see where the noise came from, only to find a disheveled looking girl with messy hair and an oversized T-shirt standing idly near the hallway.

Sunghoon tilts his head in confusion.

“Jake…I was getting worried,” She begins, rubbing her sleepy eyes, “Come back to bed.”

While Sunghoon and Heeseung exchange a glance with one another, Jake placates the girl with a quick, ‘Be there in a second’, then turns towards the two. He drags a lip into his mouth, which does nothing to stop the devilish smile from taking over.

“Well, duty calls.” And then he’s gone.

Heeseung takes his leave as well, returning back to his room after saying his departure to Sunghoon. Now there’s only him.

Sunghoon rethinks the events of what just happened, and although he feels some wariness beginning to creep inside of him, he also knows the feeling of elation is ever more present. Yeah, he really does see himself as being excited for tonight.

Because truly, what’s the worst that could happen?

Sunghoon feels as if his mind is on Cloud ni- no, scratch that -Cloud 20 right now.

With a sappy grin, flushed face, and hooded eyes, the boy spends his time hovering in a corner, basking in the warmness that's practically radiating off of him.

In contrast, his eyes scan around the chaotic mess of dancing bodies, crowded groups, and alcohol flowing throughout the living room of some giant ass mansion Jungwon was able to rent out. There’s colored lights bouncing off the walls, and if he didn’t know any better, they were synced with the music blasting all around.

He finds that he can’t exactly pinpoint what’s making him feel so at ease. His muscles are relaxed and not tense as usual. He rests casually against the wall. The cup in his hand had only a few sips remaining, and even that would be gone within the next 5 seconds.

Even though he usually chooses to stay indoors and rest, Sunghoon doesn’t truly understand why or how he actually found enjoyment at something so degenerating as a party-

"Hey!"

As if he's moving in slow motion, Sunghoon twists his head to see where the voice is coming from, his light smile not faltering once. Jake comes into focus, who’s sporting a similar manner as himself right now. He walks up with another red cup in grasp.

"You good, man?" He asks once standing next to Sunghoon.

Eyes glossy, Sunghoon regards his friend before whipping his head forwards to the sea of people. Sighing, he allows his head to fall back gently onto the dry wall, "I feel great. Feel so fucking good right now."

"Holy shit. See," Jake laughs a little too hard into Sunghoon's shoulder, causing both boys to stumble slightly, "Aren't you happy Heeseung and I brought you here tonight? You’re finally relaxing.”

Sunghoon could only chuckle softly at the words. Nothing truer could have been spoken. Right now, he is completely at peace and is tranquil all thanks to his persistent friends.

“So,” Jake starts as he moves to the left of Sunghoon, “Found someone worth exploring yet?”

Sunghoon laughs even more, though he knew nothing funny was really said. He didn’t know why, but everything seems more humorous. He loves it, “No. No, I haven’t been looking.”

Groaning, Jake begins to chastise his friend for acting like such a rookie, “Seriously, come on,” he jabs a finger into his temple, “You need to- to get your head…in the game. Start scoping out the scene.”

“What the fuck, man.” Sunghoon playfully darts his eyes away, the corners of his mouth staying upright.

“No, really. You gotta do it for Little Hoon.”

Sunghoon shoves Jake’s arm with a guffaw. What is he even saying right now? The two of them continue laughing and talking, the the topic of ‘Little Hoon’ becoming the forefront of their conversation, when a loud whoop followed by cheers interrupt them.

Entering through a doorway with a silver platter in hand, Heeseung emerges from god knows where, wearing a nearly identical expression to his two buddies. Even with people shouting and yelling at him, he stalks right up to them standing near the wall, and it’s at that moment Sunghoon notices the tray holding six more shots.

“It’s time, guys.” Heeseung parks right in front of them, now blocking Sunghoon’s view of the chaos. He lowers the platter so it’s waist level with everyone, “Rouuunnd three. You know the drill, Hoon.”

Since this is Heeseung’s third time bringing out the tray, of course Sunghoon knows what to do. The first time there were only three shots, second time a merely two- Heeseung had already taken his, and now this is supposed to be the final punch.

Sunghoon reaches down and picks up one of the plastic shot cups, then brings the rim to his eyes, “I think…I should’ve asked earlier. But, what’s in here?”

For a moment there’s silence. Then, instead of answering, Heeseung simply shushes at the curious boy while Jake helps guide Sunghoon’s arm down to his mouth. Once there, he grabs at a mini cup and so does Heeseung.

“Don’t ask. Just drink.” Jake directs, and it’s only then Sunghoon notices just how much thicker his accent gets when he’s inebriated.

“Here we go!” Heeseung leads first with him throwing his head back, and shortly everyone followed suit.

The first of the two shots slide down Sunghoon’s throat with no problem, but he’s still not used to the burning that arises with the liquid. After drinking the last remains in his cup, he goes back in for the final shot, in which the three of them take simultaneously.

“Oh, god.” Jake grimaces from the taste and shakes his head.

“Fuck, those hit me. Yep, I’m feeling those now.” Heeseung shuts his eyes reactively then quickly opens them, letting out a small huff.

Sunghoon feels the alcohol course down his pipe and land right in his chest. It leaves him with a tingly feeling that doesn’t leave him right away. And then, he’s coughing. Oh, wow. That one must’ve went down the wrong way.

“Whew. Alright,” Jake claps his hands together, and with a rub, he glances back and forth between his friends, “Now that we’ve gotten Sunghoon really loosened up, let’s see what’s around.”

Heeseung cheers and does a side step, the three of them now lined up against the wall.

Sunghoon takes a deep breath, yet even that simple task makes him feel strange, “If I’m- being honest. I don’t even know what I’m looking for…” Sunghoon half-shrugs while his eyelids slowly drop then widens.

Heeseung cranes his neck upwards, essentially dismissing the comment. He attempts to see over the crowd in front of him, then instantly, something catches his eye, “Oh, there’s Park Jia,” he peers back slightly towards his friend, “If you’re wanting a screamer, she’s your match.”

Both Sunghoon and Jake try to follow Heeseung’s eyeline, then quickly spot a girl downing a cup near the beer pong table.

Jake scrunches his nose, “Dude, she has a boyfriend. Of like…3 years.”

Sunghoon glances back over to Heeseung, to which he dryly chuckles, “Not my fault if she came on to me. Suho should have a better grip on her.”

“Fair.” Jake nods then scans his head once more, “How about Lee Chennie? Apparently you can make her wet in seconds, she’s that desperate.”

“But she also does those high-pitched fake porn moans. It’s so annoying whenever you’re trying to fuck her.” Heeseung sneers, obviously not a fan, “How do you feel about Kang Minhee, Hoon?”

“What about Kim Gyuri?”

“Kim Haeyun?”

“Oh, shit. She does give great head.”

“I know.”

As his friends continue to explain previous flings, ex-hookups, and horror stories, Sunghoon’s finding it rather hard to keep up. Just from their recaps, apparently they’ve gotten with nearly every single girl within a 10 meter radius, with each girl having their own unique experience. ‘This girl can do this’, ‘this girl can do that’, ’this girl has a trick with her tongue…’ Sunghoon feels his head is gonna explode with all of this new information. Instead of narrowing down his options, he feels his horizon has expanded. Now, how is he supposed to choose?

“Look, I really don’t have a preference,” He waves a hand around to try and calm the boys down. His own head is getting jumbled from listening to them, “I’ll just see if there’s anyone worth pursui….”

His eyes are trained forward as he kept speaking. He watches the crowd begin to disperse in front of him. People made their way from out of the living room, clearing up space in the once packed area. And it’s only then, when the living room is now much more barren and empty, in which he finds a sight that captivated him, causing him to trail away from his speech.

And not in a good way.

You.

Straight across from him, there you are. You’re passionately dancing with a couple of surrounding girls, a cup waving alongside in the air. You look ecstatic. A bright grin is etched onto your face, body moving along to the thumping beat. While Jake and Heeseung start up talking his ear off again, Sunghoon zeros in on your presence.

What the fuck are you doing here?

He eyes you down. You’re grinding against nothing like a fucking dog in heat, then do a quick twirl. Unintentionally, the movement causes Sunghoon to briefly drop his gaze down to your backside that sways in circles. The dress plastered onto you is short, tight, and black, so it leaves little room to the imagination. His lips quiver from disapproval. Of course you’re going around parading yourself like this. What a whore.

While working his vision back up, a loud giggle floats across the room and stabs him in his ears, courtesy of you. Instinctively, his eye twitches from the sound. It sends him back to the bittersweet laugh you had given him days prior, when you were insulting him. Murmuring behind his chair in class, calling him every name in the goddamn book, ‘an arrogant prick’, ‘a hallowed-out machine’, and other rude things. It ticked him off to no end.

Just like that, he feels his chest begin to burn once more, and this time it’s not from the alcohol. It’s the swirling anger that starts from his inside and radiates outward. Sunghoon tilts his head to the side, squinting his eyes to further look at you.

How is that you always manage to get underneath his skin? One glance in your direction and he’s already losing all rationality. You’ve always had a way of doing this to him, and he absolutely despises you for this fact.

He keeps his sight on you, now feeling his chest heave up and down. Even as the two girls you were fooling around with begin exiting to somewhere else, you keep on dancing; not a care to your name. You’re by yourself now, yet the only drive that’s keeping you in motion is the rhythm that’s blaring aloud.

Jake and Heeseung are still conversing with him, even as they keep recalling more and more girls that walk on by, a few of the girls sending flirty looks their way. Once Heeseung flirts actively back with one of them, only then did Sunghoon snap out of whatever minor trance you had him in.

Right. He should be focusing on relaxing. He should be picking out the girl that he’s going to take upstairs and fuck nice and hard tonight. He deserves at least that. He should be thinking about those kinds of things, and certainly not you. Because when it comes to you, there’s nothing to even consider besides your bratty ass attitude.

Even when trying to distract himself with his friends and their continuous talking, Sunghoon is certainly not fleeting his gaze over towards you every so often, catching glimpses of your winding curves. He knows for a fact that he shouldn’t be staring at your dress which is constantly riding up, almost as if it’s teasing him. Or….inviting him? Fuck, what the hell is he thinking right now?

He shakes his head and rips his gaze away from you, suppressing whatever feeling was creeping up inside him. This is dangerous. He’s becoming too aware of your presence.

That much is evident when he catches himself peering over to your body once more. He follows your hips down to the floor before seductively rising again, and a pang quickly surges throughout his core.

He needs to stop this now. His senses are becoming jumbled, from ideas of hooking up with a girl to you intercepting his attention. It's all leaving him a mess right now. Yet, he finds himself addicted to the risk. Inhaling deeply, he fixes his gaze back on you. This time it's permanent.

He recognizes the fact that his mind is not right. Sunghoon knows this. So why does he find himself shifting against the wall, itching to go over towards you. Why? He has no fucking clue. It has to be the alcohol coercing through him, otherwise in a sober state he’d conclude you as nothing more than a thorn in his side. But, he’s not sober. And his head, which is now flowing with thoughts that just can’t be his, is making him consider going up to you.

His brain feels hazy. Not so much scattered, but full. Full of those unwanted thoughts he would otherwise typically suppress. The kind that normally repulses Sunghoon on a daily basis, but for some reason is invading his head tonight and not wanting to leave. It’s becoming unbearable.

He doesn’t know what comes over. His legs just start moving. Even as he peels from the wall and amble forward, he really isn’t sure what’s happening. His friends shout at him, perplexed about his actions, but he’s direct in where he’s going. With one foot in front of his next, he’s running on autopilot.

It doesn’t make sense why he’s doing this. He’s certain, that with every fiber of his being, he would never allow himself to do something so horrendous had the circumstance been different. Unfortunately, this isn’t any usual scenario.

Soon, he’s standing right in front of you. Sunghoon just regards your carefree stature with glazed eyes and a burning heart, waiting.

You don’t notice your absolute enemy standing mere inches from you. Your eyes are closed as you continue grooving and flowing, the bass hitting your sternum just right. It’s not until you make a full circle, bringing your head up and around, in which you finally crack them open- revealing a scolding Sunghoon now in your vision.

You immediately recoil at the sight, shrieking from being startled, “Oh- what the fuck, Sunghoon?”

He stares at you with flared nostrils, his gaze boring down harshly into yours, “What are you doing here?”

“Huh?” You start to scowl, “What am I…? What are you doing here?”

“Oh.” Sunghoon tries to focus his blurred eyes on your expression; wide, yet confused, “Is me being here really that surprising?”

When going to refute that, you lose your balance momentarily, though you try hiding it with a quick dance move. Regaining yourself, you look back up to him. Your puzzled face has now been replaced with a snarl, “Yeah, actually it is. A hallowed-out machine with nothing better to do with his life….is actually attending a party?” You drop your face mockingly, “Who would’ve thunk it?”

Anger builds up inside of Sunghoon, proven by his eyebrows furrowing in discontentment, “Really? You’re really gonna…gonna act like this? Hasn’t even been a minute of us talking and you’re already being bitchy.”

You simply shrug your shoulders while you keep on dancing, your legs moving about. If he thought he could ruin your good time, oh, he’d be so wrong.

Spinning around, you let a few seconds pass before deciding to addres him, “Did you come alone ‘cause no one else wanted to be around you? Is that why you’re desperate for company?”

He laughs dryly, though his hard expression says otherwise. In all honesty, he isn’t completely sure why he came over here either. Was it the adrenaline rush? The fuzziness of his brain? His brewing thoughts? It wasn’t clear. One thing for sure, he would never reveal that to you.

Rather, he tightens his face as you keep gyrating in circles, “Just like how you’re desperate for attention? You were in my eyesight, and I saw you practically humping the air- thank you for that.”

A disgruntled huff trickles from your mouth. What a fucking scrooge, “Now you’re watching me? Like a fucking creep?”

“I’m sure you wanted the attention,” He makes it obvious he’s referring to your outfit, with the way his eyes casts a disgusted look downwards. He hates how it outlines each and every curve of yours, and pours out your breasts, “Which, now that I think about, doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always had to seek it out somehow.”

Despite your easy going attitude, you find Sunghoon’s words are starting to penetrate you. He always does this. Inputting his beliefs onto you, degrading you. He loves causing unnecessary problems. All. The. Time. God, you can’t stand him. You glower angrily towards the irritating boy, this time putting a halt to your dancing, “What is your problem?”

Sunghoon shifts his weight onto his other foot, crossing his arms. The action causes his muscles to bulge outwards against his short sleeves. Watching that annoyed you, so you peer eyes up. His dark hair is parted and styled, in his usual classic manner. The straight-faced expression he wears perfectly captures his stoic personality, even if his dumb, flawless features help to sculpt his perfect face. Ugh, he just irks you so bad.

“My problem?” He mulls the question over, an eyebrow slightly raising, “To be honest, everything you do pisses me off. It’s hard to pick just one.”

Holy- You think you’re going to kill him.

Abruptly, you spin on your heels- which give you an extra inch of height, and begin staggering your way towards the staircase, “I’m done.”

Sunghoon’s face contorts unpleasantly. His brain short-circuits, and for a second he doesn’t register you leaving, until he’s shaking his head to get his vision clear once again, “Where the hell are you going?”

“Away from you.” You yell over your shoulder. Having made it to the staircase, you grip the railing and start ascending upwards.

“No- no….” Sunghoon’s bunched-in face is ever more present, and this time he takes a step closer to you, “No, I’m not done with you.”

“How about you just take it up the ass.”

“Excuse me?”

You didn’t care if there was no correlation between your statement and his. Instead, you’re too concerned about having to will yourself up each and every stair, “You heard me,” you mumble the next part, “Such a fucking cunt.”

Sunghoon’s absolutely confused, because what? Even as he reels in from the shocking phrase, that doesn’t stop him from leisurely trailing you to the staircase. He still has more to say to you.

“You’re so-”

“-so what?” Cutting him off, you have a bite to your tone. You continue to work your way up the steps, and find it bothersome that you sense his presence lurking directly behind you.

Each time his mouth opens you just want to throw your hands around his throat and strangle him. However, even in your state, you knew unfortunately that wouldn’t go well at a party. Strangling someone and all…

“So fucking annoying. Seriously. I don’t know how anyone can like you.” He jeers. With him following close behind him, he has to stop himself from fully taking in the view of your round ass intruding his space. Oh, fuck him.

“Are you kidding me? I don’t know how anyone can like you.” The two of you reach the top of the staircase and fall into silence afterwards. You dart out a hand to glide against the wall, mainly using it as an aid to maneuver your way down the hall.

He follows your path through the tight area, dodging passerbyers along the way. For the most part, this floor seems to be much more secluded than downstairs. Hardly anyone resides up here. Which also means that once you both reach a bathroom at the far end of the hall- apparently that was the destination all along, you yelp in joy when realizing there would be no line.

As you scurry in, you brush a palm against the door frame then swing around to face Sunghoon who’s coming to a stop, “I’m gonna pee now. So, you can take your….entitled, arrogant, annoying ass somewhere else.”

Those words send him into a spiral. When you go to shut the door close, he’s swiftly throwing it back open, his head jutting out in perplexity, “What was that?”

You waste no time repeating yourself, “You’re an entitled, arrogant ass. That’s also dumb,” you attempt to push harder on the door, “You have a stupid, dumb face.”

“What the…you think you can just say that and leave? Are you trying to piss me off?” He doesn’t let up on the door, and so you quickly give up.

Aimlessly, you make your way over to the toilet, though you don’t sit down immediately. You’re too busy staring down Sunghoon, who’s now worked his way into the bathroom and promptly shuts the door, and locks it.

“You're not so perfect yourself, Y/N,” Sporadically, he gazes all over your body, irritation and something else seeping from within him, “You whine and complain and start problems. You've always had since high school.”

“Oh.” Mentioning the past was not a good idea. Your eyes go large as you now stare intensely at him, taking one step forward, “You wanna bring up high school? Hmm? You wanna? Fine. Let's talk about just how shitty of a person you became.��

“Here we go, again.” Sunghoon rolls his eyes into the back of his head, “That’s what you always say.”

“Because it’s true!” You throw a hand in his direction for emphasis, then without hesitation you plop down on top of the closed toilet lid, “You became friends with those two fucking idiots, and ended up as one yourself.”

Your words simmer aloud before a light chuckles leaves Sunghoon. He shuffles and places his back onto the bathroom door, while crossing his arms yet again, “That’s rich."

You narrow your eyes in his direction, "What?"

"I find it funny you think you have any room to call someone an idiot."

That takes you aback, “What?”

He tilts his head mockingly, "Did you think I forgot? How you almost flunked out our third year because your grades were so low?"

Oh, screw him. Actually, screw him. How could he bring that up? One of the worst periods of your life. Your college career was at stake and he just casually drops that as if it were nothing? Fuck, he's such a cunt.

You don't reply to him, obvious that this struck a nerve so deep. Even Sunghoon is surprised to hear you shut up for once. A chilling silence overtakes the air as you continue to sit on the toilet, sinking in your detest.

Your leg begins to bounce and instinctively, you drag your puffy lip into your mouth, gnawing gently as you begin thinking. Thinking about how to retaliate. You're lost in thought when a past memory brims to the surface of your head.

This time, you're the one to do the short laugh, "Our third year...right. Just like how Na Sohee started that rumor about you being the worst lay she's ever had," you pull your attention over towards his stance, a more apprehensive attitude overtaking him, "Yeah. When she said you were sloppy and gross. That you repulsed her.” you practically spit those words back at him, then finish off your statement, “Which for the record, I never thought of it as a rumor. I'm sure you are shitty in bed, too."

Now that cuts deeply for Sunghoon, evident by the quick inhale he does and his chest raising high. Yeah, he wasn't expecting you to say that. Sohee knew she was wrong for spreading that about him, after he didn’t want to sleep with her. It was disgusting for her to even say such a thing. And there you are, smirking back at him as his jaw clenches.

He’s quiet for a second, then uncomfortably clears his throat, “…..whatever.”

Yeah. That’s what you fucking thought. You eye Sunghoon down menacingly while he becomes visibly twitchy in how he’s constantly moving around. It makes you glad to have made him so scattered, “Yeah, embarrassing isn’t it? Having your past throw in your face…”

He waits a beat before speaking up. Sunghoon’s not blind. He gets why’re saying this. He started the conversation, meaning he can’t necessarily fault you for bringing…that up. However, he feels his pride is getting the best of him. To which, he darts his eyes away and mutters, “Alright. I hear you.”

“Sooo fucking embarrassing. Oh, are your ears turning red, Sunghoon?” You lean your torso in further to tease him, though judging by the plain look he sports, he was clearly not amused by your joke.

“Very funny,” in a deadpan tone he blinks back at you, “You can cut it out now.”

But, you don’t. No, you decide to keep going. Because if there is one thing about you, once the topic of Park Sunghoon gets brought up, you can speak on it for hours. You bring up how the rumor must’ve made him feel so insecure about himself, and how his ego definitely took damages from hearing it. You mention how he probably hasn’t gotten fucked since then, because of how much of a fucking loser he is. Poor Sunghoon.

With each passing second, and each passing insult being hurled in his direction, Sunghoon feels himself dwindling down in composure. He’s already said all of the different variations of ‘You’re right’ without actually saying those surrendering words: ‘Okay, I get it’, ‘Yeah, got it’, ‘Okay’, ‘Yeah’.

And yet, you still ramble on. Like the floodgates are open and nothing’s being done to stop it. You dish out harsher words, “No one is going to ever-”

“Y/N. Just stop talking.” His voice is raised and even slightly reverberates between the walls of the bathroom. He casts a look and regards you with bewilderment. Whatever else that was about to leave your mouth immediately stops after his interruption.

You twist your body even more, so you’re holding eye contact; your knees slightly opening and closing because for some reason you can’t seem to sit still. While you think of a retort to say back, your vision goes away from Sunghoon and focuses on the nearby details. In doing so, you miss the begrudging glance down Sunghoon gives your thighs. He spots a brief glimpse of something white alongside it.

And then, he’s retreating his gaze. He’s not going to allow himself to get distracted. Especially from you. His mind was just cleared. Yes, it took a while for those previous thoughts to fade out, but he was finally escaping them. It would be catastrophic if he permitted himself to start thinking like that once again. To view you as anything more.

You become more vocal about your animosity, which then breaks his internal thinking, “Such a fucking loser. I can’t believe someone like you could even think you had a chance with Na Sohee. With your shit personality? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

In a matter of milliseconds, Sunghoon is back to fuming. Fuck, you just never know when to shut up, “I’m telling you. Seriously, stop it.”

The hotness in his chest is slowly consuming him, and you are doing absolutely nothing to ease him.

Instead, you simply fuel his anger. You put on a fake pout as the movements from your legs gradually widen. You even feel your dress start to hike up a bit, though not a single part of you had an ounce of care, “What? You’re gonna cry? Whiny baby gonna cry? Give me a break. You’re pathetic, truly. A pathetic piece of shit who’s gonna live a shitty life because you’re just too obsessed with yourself to be an actual, functioning person. Good riddance.”

Something snaps within Sunghoon that instantly makes his eyes go dark. You’ve done it. He told you to stop. He told you. The audacity you must have to blatantly disregard and talk down on him, makes him sick. Sunghoon gave you chances to stop. You didn’t. So, can he really be blamed for what’s about happen?

Similar to earlier, he doesn’t know what comes over him. His mouth moves before even a thought registers in his mind. With his eyes narrowing in vexation, and jawline prominent, Sunghoon erects himself from resting on the door. He’s now at his full height when he says the low, simple words, “Come here.”

You didn’t understand the threat that’s laced within the warning, so unbeknownst to you, you shoot up like a rocket taking off, “Gladly.”

There isn’t much room for you to go, but you do in fact make the quick trek to stand right in front of Sunghoon, whom of which harbors a dark and still expression. Even when you challenge him in stance, you glaring upwards to meet his eyes while he stares you down, you feel nothing. You’re not scared.

“What the fuck do you want?” You mutter through your teeth. Though, he heard you perfectly clear.

“What I want….” His wild eyes dart back and forth between your gaze, making sure you were really present for what he was about to say, “Is to put my hand around your throat, and make you shut the actual fuck up.”

And your heart drops.

You register his words- his threat. Scanning his face, you become aware of your heavy breathing because now, your heart is beating ten times faster. He stares at you right back. Coldly. Not a moment of regret is present in his eyes. He meant what he said.

What’s worse? You know that. Sunghoon’s not one to bluff, so you understand the words thrown at you were nothing short of the truth. Your heart begins to beat in your ears, with the acceleration almost deafening you. Yet, for some reason, you want to call him out.

You remain silent as you take one step closer to the fuming boy, scoffing. You don’t break eye contact, not once, not even as the pit of your stomach churns deliciously at his statement. It’s sadistic, how you already know the consequence to your upcoming response. But, that doesn’t stop you from going, in barely a whisper, “Then. Do it.”

Sunghoon’s unmoving, at least initially he was. Then, in a quick turn around, his hand goes flying in the air and grips onto your neck. Five fingers, all squeezing your skin. You immediately seize your breathing and your mouth falls agape, labored breaths tumbling from your open hole.

Sunghoon watches carefully your expression, and with all of his pent up thoughts, pent up feelings, pent up stress, all of it comes spilling out this moment, not another second was wasted, and soon he’s taking your lips within his.

A kiss is what you two share, if you can even call it that. His mouth envelopes your own, but there is no tenderness. No passion. You close your eyes, and follow down the rough path he started, the kiss increasingly becoming messier and sloppier.

Even with his hand around your pretty throat, you both continue kissing, the hatred and loathing seeping out from either ends consuming you two. There are no other thoughts. None of how wrong this is. Internally, you both sense the stirring feeling of regret, however, externally- lust and desire overrides it.

Until a brick of clarity hits.

Almost as if you two simultaneously awaken, you’re breaking away from one another. Sunghoon backpedals closer to the door and you and throw yourself towards the other end of the bathroom. You’re panting and so is he.

“What the fuck was that?” You grit, eyes scattering about. Did you seriously just make out with Park Sunghoon?

Sunghoon stays quiet as he tries to gather his own thoughts. Why did he just do that?

“You came in here to ambush me, didn’t you?” Throwing out an accusation, you find the kiss messed with your head more than you realized. It leaves you dizzy, disoriented, when you try to walk forward, you trip just slightly over your own feet.

He merely grunts, running a hand through his thick hair as a distraction, “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/N. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Yeah, clearly…” You try to regain your senses, putting one foot in front of the other, when you lose your balance once more and fall into the sink. A few items resting on the counter fly off, and you instantly sigh as Sunghoon scoffs lightly, saying, ‘Great job.’

You tell him to, ‘Fuck off’, then swiftly drop to your knees. The objects are all haphazardly placed around the floor, and so while reaching to obtain them, back arching in the process, your dress begins to raise. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sunghoon.

His attention gets drawn to those same cotton white underwear he saw earlier this night. This time, they’re cheekily cutting into the lower fat of your ass, and another surge courses throughout him. Dammit. He’s averting his gaze, yet again. Each and every time, you rile him up. How? He’s already lost his mind when he went in to kiss you, how can he trust his thoughts to not progress things further?

Before he knows it, you’re rising to your feet and placing the items back on top of the counter, just as they were. You’re mumbling quietly to yourself during the duration, but Sunghoon could pick out snippets of your words: can’t believe, how did, fucking idiot. He almost wants to tell you to learn how to mutter better, though he knew you were doing it on purpose. You just love pissing him off.

You flip around towards him and in that moment he sees part of your lip tint is smeared off to the side; and for you, you realize part of his lips has been dyed a shade darker. At the recognition, you two glance off to opposite sides of the room. Stillness engulfs the air, until eventually you speak up.

“I can’t believe you did that.” Your voice is hushed, and this time when dragging your bottom lip in- you almost recoil from how your body throbs pleasantly at the taste. The taste of Sunghoon’s spit coats your skin.

“Well, it was an accident. So, calm down.” He throws his head against the door frame, still reeling in from his actions. Even though his mouth claims one thing, his fuzzy head somewhat misses the close interaction. And for some reason, Sunghoon doesn’t mind this fact.

You still can’t help but shudder from disbelief, “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Thank you.” He accompanies the sarcasm with a half-assed eye roll. He’s really not in the mood to hear you whine or complain.

“For real,” You slowly turn to face him, “You’re insane. And drunk.”

He raises an eyebrow tiredly, now looking at you through his eyelids, “So are you.”

“That’s not the point.” You don’t really know what the point is, just not that.

“Oh, really?” He stares at you with hooded eyes as those same thoughts from earlier slowly begin to enter his mind again. The longer he keeps looking at your unkempt stature, the more he finds that same itch fixing to be scratched. By you, “Then what is it? Hmm?”

There’s a change to how he’s looking at you, no, staring at you. It’s not the same as earlier, which was lustful yet hateful. Now, you think you only see one of them. You switch your eyesight to something else, hating the warm feeling that was arising in your pit, “The point is. I would never kiss you sober. Never.”

He’s quick to add on to that, “And I would never kiss you sober.”

“Good.” You say final. Despite whatever longing your body does for Sunghoon, you allow yourself to suppress those growing emotions. It was dangerous territory anyways. Why are you even in the bathroom still? Your urge to pee has been gone for some time now, and really the close proximity is making you enact on otherwise bottled up-

A ragged sigh flows from Sunghoon’s mouth, his skin tingling from a desperation that just has to be curated. Now that he’s gotten a little bit from you, he’s needy for the full thing. He’s needing you.

“Come back here.”

Without thinking, you turn to his wispy tone and immediately the two of you lock eyes. He’s waiting for you to do as he says, him standing still with a resting gaze. The intense contact has your stomach in knots, and you feel your legs shifting in suspense.

“Hey,” you watch his tainted mouth form the sentence, and unhurriedly he does a once over at your uneven dress. He then rakes his eyes back up to your face, and tilting his head down just the slightest bit, he lets out the faintest groan, “I said come back.”

Without thinking, movement starts up in your legs as you feel yourself walk over to him. The closer you get to him, though, the faster you notice your pace increases, until you ram straight into his body and capture his mouth inside of yours. The heat and intensity all comes rushing back to you, to you both, and you hate how good this feels.

As if you two had never parted from one another, the kiss transforms quickly back into the one from earlier, the same insatiable make-out. No longer a kiss, it’s a grueling act of roughness that has you melting. You’re moving your heads in a rhythm, tilting and parting when necessary. You get into a pattern of closing in on his lips before sucking gently on his lower one, opening your lips more, then repeating. When a low buzz passes through his mouth, happy with your treatment, you want to moan right back. You think you even felt it shoot straight down to your pussy.

Sunghoon takes a few steps forward, now moving away from the door. While still entangled in you, he begins walking you back until your ass hits the adjacent wall. When he slips his tongue slightly into your mouth, the action causes you to mewl accordingly. He’s kissing you with hunger, delving deeper and deeper into your whiny mouth, as more faint groans erupt from him. His body leans harshly into yours, and his pelvis pushes even harder against your own.

You relax onto the wall and feel his weight sink down on top of you, his heavy kissing making you addicted. You feel some growth develop below you, and soon a large bulge is pressing against your naked thigh. You’re so turned on by the feeling, the fact that you got him to this point, that even you could sense the slickness from your cunt beginning to coat your fabric.

Then, he’s tearing himself away from your lips, and immediately dives down for your neck. His mouth nips and bites at your skin, quickly finding a sole spot to focus on and delivers stimulation there. You lean your head to side and give him access to the area, your face grimacing from the pleasure. You go to moan from it, when he thrusts his clothed erection against your hips. He just couldn’t help himself, his cock is throbbing so fucking bad right now.

Your hands, which were messily laced throughout his hair, leisurely begin to work their way down. The two of you move in sync, as he’s nearly humping through the wall, and your hands travel all around Sunghoon. Tiny whimpers escape your throat from and every thrust, while his sucking provides the gratification you’ve been needing all night. You feel his tongue lap at your throat, but when his mouth encloses on itself, resulting in a bite, you scream out, “Ah- shit!”

Instantly, you grip his shoulders for support, him continuing to rut rather harshly into your lower half, while his teeth grab at your throat, essentially marking you up. He rotates his head until he’s near your sternum, kissing and licking at that area. You bite your lip when an ungodly whine nearly leaves you.

You’re breathing heavy as increasingly you become lost in the sensation overtaking you. Sunghoon’s worked his way down to your breasts, sucking only the top of both. He leaves dark marks strung about as he switches back and forth between the equally soft tissues. He stuffs his mouth full, basically coating your flesh in a immense amount of wetness.

When he lifts his head up for a brief second, first to make split eye contact with you, then he’s quick to raise up his hands up and yank down that little ass dress which hardly covered your tits.

Now with easier access, the moment he takes one of your flesh within his damp mouth, you gasps sharply, “Nrgh- my god. Sunghoon, fuck, that feels good.”

He doesn’t respond, though you feel his smile against your skin. Swirling and licking all over your nipple, he knows you’re feeling good. He senses it in the way you’re squirming underneath him, hands gripping his backside. He’s becoming increasingly aware of how much this is affecting you, your shaking body has proven that for him.

He pops over to your other breast, sucking fast and harsh for this one. Your hips begin to wiggle, the euphoria starting to become too much. Fuck, how did he make you so aroused in a matter of minutes? You continue to move about from his licking, when suddenly he pulls away. Removing himself from your supple mound, though staying eye level with it, he holds his lips mere inches away from the spot of pleasure.

He only peers up to look at you through his eyelashes, “Are you going to let me fuck you? I have to know what you feel like. Need to know what you feel like.”

You spew out a mewl from his words and feel yourself clench around nothing. Just him saying that makes your body weak. When going to answer him, a blatant, 'yes', so close from toppling out, you don’t realize a sneaky finger creeping its way underwear you dress, and pushing your underwear ever so gently to the side.

With your mouth already opened, a loud groan unintentionally bellows out from your gut, all in response to Sunghoon now circling your soaked clit. His eyes still remain on you, a whine abruptly follows after your groan.

“So, are you? You’re going to let me fuck you, right?” He asks yet again. The ripples of pleasure send you into a frenzy, your hips chasing alongside his digit. His adds a second finger to his stimulation, rubbing largely around your active bud, and you feel your eyelids fluttering open and shut.

You rest your head against the wall, a low grunt emitting from you, “Fuck..fuck you. You know-” before you can speak, he presses his digits into your thick skin, causing your eyes to shut tightly and pussy to contract, “Ah! You know I’m going to say yes.”

He keeps his hand right in the spot that produces the most pleasure for you, your body now shaking from the arousal. Oh, fuck. You’ve never been turned on so quickly before- and have been this close to cumming. He’s barely touched you, and you already feel the knot in your stomach beginning to loosen.

“Yeah?” he gives your cunt a rapid shake, wiggling the pads of his fingertips back and forth at speed that must be criminal to your already sensitive clit. Then, as you're seconds away from having your fastest orgasm, he alleviates you from the torture, “Okay, let’s go.” Unplunging his fingers, he removes his hand from under your dress.

“Wha….?” Shaking your head along the wall, you’re too much in a daze to even recognize what’s happening.

One second your drowning in ecstasy, when the next, Sunghoon’s guiding you over to the bathroom sink. He pulls you in front of him, then before you can think, he proceeds to bend you over the counter, your back flattening and ass spreading.

“Good, girl,” he murmurs more to himself, absolutely loving how easy it was to put you in this position. He knew deep down this is what your slutty ass would like. Who is he to stop you from having it? “Gonna fuck you nice and hard from right here. That okay?”

You go to say something, your head slowly lifting up, yet a hand just shoves your face down against the flat surface. It's horrible that you let out a whimper in response.

He wastes no time lifting your dress the rest of the way up- it had already failed to cover half of your ass, and with his free hand he trails your plush skin, preparing himself for when he wrecks you.

The light feel gives your cheek quickly turns into a harsh slap. Your skin jiggles from the impact and you scream as a reply. Sunghoon forces himself to stop a moan from slipping out, “Fuck, I already know you’re gonna take me so well.”

He does the action once more, with you moaning aloud once again, and then he’s ready. He’s practically already pantsless, from how fast he was able to pull them off. His rock, hard cock springs out proudly as Sunghoon relishes in the freedom, finally out of restraints. He’s been untouched for too long, and so he knew he needed you bad.

“Can already feel my cock pulsing, Y/N,” little clear beads bud out from the tip of his cock, just from looking at your sexy ass. He stroking his foreskin while hitting his lip. “You’re lucky I didn’t….”

He has to rethink what he was about to say. He was about to say, ‘Cum all over you’, though, he had plans for that later on. Don’t worry, you’ll see soon.

Aligning his hard-on with your entrance, and without sparing another minute, Sunghoon inserts himself straight and far into your pussy. The moment contact was made, the two of you move forwards slightly, with your head nearly hitting the wall. His cock is lodged so deep inside of you, you swear wholeheartedly, that he’s in your stomach.

“Oh, fuck!” Your eyes go white from the feeling. With him smushing your face hard against the counter, you were left practically immobilized when goes in for another thrust. And then another. And then another.

His hips soon fell into a rocking motion, and Sunghoon has to clench his ass from almost cumming inside of you the moment he sank himself into your forgiving hole, "Holy, fuck."

You feel yourself moving along with him, and your forehead scrunches from the indulgence, your face constantly changing and morphing the faster he pumps in and out of you. Your moans become choppy, disorganized, from the quick movements, “Ah- ah- oh, god…Sung…”

As your eyelids are squeezing shut, then popping wide open when a particularly sharp buck causes you to, you begin to realize that not once did he allow you time to adjust to his length. Just from the feeling, however, you already know that he’s big; but frankly, you did not care.

No, because immediately, you’re already succumbing to the growingly fast pace he’s only offered you. The kind that has you bouncing right back against him. And it feels so, so good.

He holds true to what he said earlier; he’s really is fucking you nice and hard. He's giving you everything you would want in a hook up session. And, you hate him for this. The fact that he felt he could just have free rein over your body. The way he didn’t even let you talk unless it’s to praise him. The fact that this is Park Sunghoon, completely drilling into your leaking backside with no remorse. All of it pisses you off so much.

But, you hate that you're also loving it so much. You love the sensation that builds within your core, and how it grows more and noticeable the quicker he thrusts. The more he keeps pounding into you, the more you feel the sensation change into utter bliss. The kind of pleasure that is going to have you finishing in merely seconds.

“Fu-uck, so fucking good,” He clenches his teeth while raising his head high, his hips continuing to buck deep inside of you, “So fucking good. Yeah, take me like the good brat you are.”

Sunghoon could get lost in this feeling forever. How you velvet walls wrap tightly, perfectly, around his throbbing, bulging cock. You squeeze out just the right amount of pressure that's making him see starts. It pleases him in a way he thinks he wouldn't be able to get anywhere else; from anyone else. Even if you irritate him to no fucking end, he’s always known you're good for something, something magnificent.

“Oh, fuck me,” His body contorts in half, folding in a similar manner to yours. His mouth hangs near you ear as he lets out a low buzzing moan, which falls delicately into your brain. “Oh. S-shit. You’re gonna let me cum inside you too, right? Right?”

He hammers his dick in and out of you, and soon, you find that he’s hitting your pleasure point. Now, it's game over. You begin more rounds of shrieking, mewing, crying; all because Sunghoon somehow found exactly what ruins you. You'll be done in no time.

You whine, “Stupid. Stupid- fucking... I hate you. Hate you so-”

“Answer,” he’s now wrapping his arms around your torso, his hips slamming harshly into your flesh. You better answer soon, or else he’s going to make the decision for you.

A sob bubbles out from your lips, though not a single tear flowed. You were so consumed in your rapture, it made you nearly wail.

“F-Fine! Fine, cum inside me, Sunghoon. Please, please-” a guttural moan gets in the way of you finishing and soon you grow limp. Little moans replace whatever it was you were going to say, and you wait for your orgasm to take over at any point.

You’re so aroused, you can’t even think straight.

Sunghoon’s heard enough. Oh, he’s heard plenty, actually. The moment he heard the slightest bit of confirmation, he relaxed himself into your body with the full intentions of you filling you to the brim with his sticky, thick load.

He’s already unclenched his ass and is just waiting for him cum to shoot out of him, which happens the moment he knicks the special spot that has his cock twitching and releasing hot fluids within your walls.

“Ohh, shit,” he grabs ahold of your hips and forces you close to him, as his dick spills out basically ounces of his semen all inside your pussy. He creams inside of you.

Your eyelids vibrate for the last time, "I'm- c-cumming..."

At the feeling of his orgasm, you quickly experience your own. Your eyes roll back. Your body becomes a trembling mess. Your cunt pulses so much that it’s milking Sunghoon dry, causing his overstimulated dick to shoot out spurts of remaining liquid.

“Fuck, Y/N, fuck.” Sunghoon’s hips stutter as he slows his thrusts down. You’re babbling you’re own incoherent sayings, still experiencing the after shakes of your explosive pop.

Although Sunghoon's climax is slow decreasing, him feeling his once hard cock now softening, he doesn't remove himself immediately.

No, he keeps himself inside of you, and relaxes his tired body, now drenched in both arousal and sweat, on top of yours. Both of you need a breather. And a breather was definitely taken. Which, after a few minutes of heaving panting, turned into a round 2, with this time, Sunghoon fucking you from the front.

While you two stayed in the bathroom for much longer than intended for, trying out different positions, or simply enclosing each other's lips over their own, there’s was an unspoken agreement. A peace treaty, as one might say.

Because, one thing is for certain.

Even if you allowed Sunghoon to continuously stick his dick inside of you round after round, or even as Sunghoon let himself get off to how horny you make him. Even as you two came over and over and over, consecutively…..

Neither of you would remember this night had ever happened, by the time morning came around.

Right?

- Bonus -

Your eyes crack faintly open, the sun shining directly onto you. It acts as a natural alarm for you, which, as you begin stirring awake and slowly sitting up, that fact almost annoys you.

You sit resting on a plush, comforting top, and only after a few bounces, you're able to register that you're in your on-campus apartment, on top of your bed. Though after a few more bounces, you quickly stop because the action begins to hurt your abdomen.

"Oh, god..." Croaking, you let out a good stretch. Then lazily, you swing your legs over your mattress and soon stand up. Your bladder is for some reason screaming at you to go pee.

Even as you shuffle softly into your bathroom, part of your brain must be turned off, because you sense that you're still so out of it from last night. You have no recollection. Of. Anything. You don't even have a memory of getting home, it was bad.

Quietly, you scold yourself for even allowing you to get so inebriated. You mentally said you wouldn't do this again, yet here you are, lost for your memories. You don't remember a single event from before pregamming with your friend, Jungwon.

Screw his stupid jungle juice. That's the last time you'll ever drink that abomination.

Flicking on the light to the bathroom, you find the artificial light creating an even greater headache for you, you squinting your eyes the whole way to the toilet.

Plopping down, you finally relieve yourself your, wipe, flush the toilet, then you're on your way back towards your sink, your head staying down the whole time.

You're mid-washing your hands, with you doing a brief glance upwards, when a quick scream leaves you from what you saw staring back at you.

Red splotches are marked all along your neck, some darker than others. It travels down, you can tell that much, though the random shirt you had on covers the rest.

You lean in closer to the mirror, extending your head up to see the full extent. Oh...is that a hand print? Your eyes go wide at this, the outline becoming much more apparent the longer you stared at the marking.

Just what the actual fuck happened last night?

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